Worth the Wait (Very Personal Training Book 2)

by Karla Doyle

  “Is the hat okay, or should I put on a hairnet too? I don’t want to contaminate anything.”

  She glanced at his hat and smiled. “With or without the hat, I’m sure you’re good without a hairnet.”

  That’s what she thought.

  He’d given up shaving his head since changing jobs. Given up other old habits recently too. “You tell me.” He slid the cap from his head and swiped his hand over the top section. “Is this good?”

  “Oh my god, you’ve got hair now. I mean, I noticed the little bit at the bottom of your hat, but I assumed it was stubble because you hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, not that you actually had hair now. You look younger with hair.”

  Not “you look good with hair” or “you look different with hair”. Younger. And given her diminishing smile, that didn’t seem to be a positive.

  Having been her trainer, he had the advantage of knowing her age—and the size of the gap between them. No big deal. To him, at least.

  He could prove that easily enough. “Want to know how old I am?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Twenty-eight. For a couple more months, anyway.”

  “Oh, Sam. You should be out clubbing with the under-thirties, not holed-up here, baking cookies with a forty-two-year-old single mother.”

  He shoved the cap in his back pocket while stalking squarely into her personal space. At an even six feet, he wasn’t one of those guys who towered over everybody. But he had more than half a foot on Miss Short’n’Sweet, and a lot more width across the shoulders. Enough presence to accompany what he wanted to say.

  “Let me straighten you out about a few things, Leigh. You’re a mother, but you don’t get to mother me. I’m not wet behind the ears when it comes to women. Being ‘under thirty’ doesn’t mean I have a sack of wild oats I still need to sow or that I want my weekends to be meaningless wastes of time. I cook, I clean and I don’t ruin laundry. I have a degree in math, but I don’t give a shit about the numbers twenty-eight or forty-two.”

  If Leigh preferred subtler men, probably best for both of them he’d shown her he didn’t fall into that group.

  “Oh, screw it…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers over his hair. No subtlety on her side of this equation either, given the way she pulled his head down. Zero hesitation when her lips parted in invitation. She slid her tongue into his mouth, touched his. Made a soft little moan as she opened for him completely.

  Sweet as honey and wild as a thunderstorm. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. Tight as he could get her with their clothes on. Goddamn apron ties. He battled the knot and won. Shoved her t-shirt out of the way and groaned when he connected with soft, silky skin.

  She answered by curling her leg around his hip. By capturing his tongue and sucking it into her mouth. Torture, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

  “My office,” she whispered against his mouth. “At the back, to the left.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the only thing keeping me in check is the fact that we’ll be violating a ton of health codes if I touch you the way I want to. If we move out of this kitchen, that reason will be gone, along with my gentlemanly intentions.”

  “Exactly.” She dragged her fingernails over his t-shirt-covered back before grabbing his butt and squeezing. “There’s a desk in my office.”

  “I came here to ask you on a date, not fuck you on your desk.”

  One eyebrow rose and a sexy, teasing smile tipped her mouth. “And these things are mutually exclusive?” She slid one hand under his belt. “Hmm?”

  Fuck, how was he supposed to think with her hand down his pants? Especially since she was heading toward the front. “Leigh…” He sucked in his breath when her fingertips grazed the tip of his cock through his boxers. To give her more room to explore—hell yeah. He was trying to be a gentleman, but he was still a man. His hips thrust instinctively as her fingers curled around his cloth-covered cock and stroked.

  “It feels like you want to fuck me on my desk.”

  “Never said I didn’t.”

  She used her other hand to unbuckle and unzip him. Peeled his boxers down. Slipped inside and cupped his bare skin.

  That much, he could’ve taken. The hungry eyes and pink tongue running over her juicy bottom lip were too much.

  “It’s going to cost me a ton of guy points, but I’m going to take a step back and zip up.”

  “Keep the points. I want you.” Another stroke up his shaft further eroded his willpower. “And I’m pretty sure you want me.”

  “Oh, I do. So fucking much. But it’s going to have to wait until later. I’ve been thinking about getting you naked for a very long time, Leigh, and when I finally do, it’ll be someplace where I can lay you out and take my time enjoying every gorgeous inch of you.” Somehow, he did the impossible and took that step back.

  Jesus, the flush on her cheeks, her eyes following his hands as he shifted and tucked his cock away, her pupils so large they practically overtook the soft gray of her irises.

  She took a couple steps back of her own, borderline stumbling until her hip bumped the long countertop. “Wow. Well. That’s the hottest rejection I’ve ever gotten.”

  “Postponement, not rejection. I promise to make it worth the wait.”

  “I believe you.” From the smile on her lips and gleam in her eyes, some very naughty things were rolling around inside her pretty head. “I’ll make you a promise too.”

  “Do tell, I’m all ears.” He glanced down, making a point of shifting his still-raring-to-go cock as he did. “Well, maybe not all.”

  “Your fault, mister, I wanted to take care of that,” she said while settling her t-shirt and apron back into place. “You opted to wait. But I promise that after I’ve had my way with you later, you won’t make that mistake again.”

  Of that he had no doubt.

  “So, cookies.” She cinched the black ties around her waist. “How many and what kind?”

  The apron should’ve helped deflate his cock. Not by half. Leigh made the geometric chunk of black fabric sexy. The way the ties accented her waist, how the curves of her breasts spilled out the sides.

  One day he’d fuck her while she wore nothing but that apron and a smile of his making. His focus drifted to her ass when she turned her back to him. Yeah, some spiky high heels would go nicely with the apron. Leigh’s legs would look amazing in heels.

  “What do you think—sugar?”

  He snapped out of his fantasy to find her looking at him over her shoulder as she flipped through a notebook. Nobody’d ever called him sugar before. Kind of a wussy pet name for a guy, but coming from Leigh, he’d take it and roll with it.

  “Whatever you think, babe.”

  One of the things he’d liked about Leigh since day one was the way a smile broke across her lips. How it spread and took over her entire face. And when she turned it on him directly, like now, he was powerless to do anything other than smile back.

  “Uh-huh.” Those two syllables held a whole lot of amusement.

  He’d missed something. Possibly a bunch of somethings. “You caught me, I wasn’t listening.” He crossed the galley to stand near her. Close enough to feel the heat of her skin and charge of electricity where their arms brushed incidentally. He hooked his finger under the ties snugly wrapping her waist and tugged her tight to his body. “I got distracted by your apron.”

  She raised her eyebrows as he pressed his cock against her abdomen. “You have an apron fetish?”

  “Yeah, since about two minutes ago, when I was imagining you wearing one with nothing underneath.”

  “Oh. Hmm. And was I cooking in this little musing of yours, or something else?”

  “Things were definitely cooking.”

  The soft, seductive sound of her laughter rippled through him. Being around Leigh was easy, natural. Kissing her, instinctual. Had to be done. Right now.

  “Mmm, you’
re good at that,” she said when they came up for air.

  “So are you.” He should’ve made this move months ago. Many months. He lifted a hand to touch her, then stopped. “Mind if I do something?”

  Gaze still locked with his, she shook her head. “Do whatever you want.” Simple as that. Maybe that was her way.

  His ego preferred to believe it was because she trusted him. “This has to go.” He slipped a finger beneath the edge of her hairnet and peeled it away. “This too.” A gentle tug freed her hair of a ponytail. “There. Just needed to do this for a minute.” He sifted through the silky strands. “Before we have to put the gear on and get to work.”

  She hummed in satisfaction, relaxing under his touch. “We don’t have to.”

  “To hell with work and skip straight to the part where I take you home to bed?”

  A soft laugh drifted up. “I wish. Your friend’s cookies aside, those cakes need frosting and piping before I can go anywhere. I meant we don’t have to wear hairnets. I do, as an extra hygiene precaution, but they’re not mandatory.” She moaned softly when he stepped behind her to massage her neck and shoulders. “That feels so good. You have amazing hands. Too amazing. I’m already calculating how early I’d have to come in to finish those cakes if I throw responsibility out the door tonight.”

  He didn’t fight it when she moved away. The last thing he wanted Leigh to think was that this was some one-night stand, that he’d waltzed in here on a whim. He’d learned enough about her from conversations during their training sessions to know she took her responsibilities very seriously. Work and family varieties, both.

  “Let’s get your stuff going while the cakes cool some more. Sugar cookies, then?”

  He nearly choked on his tongue.

  She managed to look more adorable by tilting her head. “What?”

  “You were talking about the type of cookies.”

  A cute crease formed between her eyebrows. She’d known he wasn’t paying attention a few minutes earlier, but she had no idea how he’d misinterpreted the word “sugar” when it originally slid from her lips.

  And damn if he wasn’t a little disappointed. “Nothing, ignore me. I’m an idiot sometimes, that’s all. Yeah, sugar cookies sound great.” And now he knew she was a merciful woman, because she shook her head and let the subject drop. “Tell me how to help.”

  LEIGH

  Since she’d opened Short’n’Sweet, most of her baking time had been solitary. Occasionally, Lennox got it in her head that she wanted to make something and they’d share a couple hours here. There’d been times when Tim had helped her with large orders or had hung about the office, watching a much-younger Lennox play with measuring cups and bowls while Leigh worked.

  Leigh cherished those memories, the sounds of love and friendship surrounding her while she mixed and measured. But this—laughing with Sam, having his hands on her while she sifted and stirred—gah, the kitchen had never been so hot. Like now, and he wasn’t even touching her.

  “How many cookies will that make?” he asked as she dumped the ball of thick dough onto the work surface.

  “Depends on the size, but around five dozen.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “We don’t have to make them all now.” She reached for a knife, conveniently located in front of Sam, using the opportunity to brush against his warm, solid chest. “How many do you want for your friend? A dozen? Two? You never said what the occasion was, either. When you do, I can give you some ideas for the icing and decoration, unless you have something in mind already?”

  The perpetual smile he wore dimmed. “Remember at the coffee shop the other day, how I had to take that call, then cover my buddy’s shifts at the gym?” He scrubbed one hand back and forth over the short brown hair that’d replaced his once clean-shaven head. “He took his girlfriend to the emergency department because of severe abdominal pain. Turns out her appendix had ruptured.”

  “Oh no, that’s horrible.” Instinctively, she hugged herself around the middle. “Cassie’s okay, right?”

  “Yeah, thank God. Brian would go off the deep end if he lost Cassie. I’m sure he’ll be hovering and brooding for many weeks to come, if not longer.”

  “I imagine so. All right, tell me this—are the cookies for the patient or her giant nursemaid?” She played it off some, poking light fun at Sam’s massive friend-turned-boss, but in truth, envy tugged at her insides. She’d always wanted the kind of all-consuming love Sam described when he spoke of his friends.

  “The cookies are for Cassie. Mainly.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like she might not be the only one eating them. Two dozen it is, then.” Pushing the jealousy down, she focused on the task at hand. She dusted her palms with flour and worked one half of the dough into a smooth ball. “Maybe just some happy, solid colors for the icing, unless you have another idea? I like to personalize stuff, but I don’t know Brian and Cassie beyond the basic ‘hello’ in passing.”

  “They’re both great.” The tension left Sam’s face as he smoothed his hand over her nape. “I think you’ll really like them when you get to know them better.”

  “When I get to know them better? You mean, once you lure me to the new club?”

  He shook his head. Hazel eyes twinkled at her, mesmerizing her. “I meant getting together with them outside of business. Strictly personal.”

  The way he looked at her, as if he were looking beyond her skin with its laugh lines and beginnings of crow’s feet, directly into the essence of who she was, made her heart dance. Made her believe their age gap didn’t exist, let alone matter. And for the moment, it didn’t. That’s what she needed to focus on, not some farfetched idea of couplehood with a man fourteen years her junior.

  Fourteen years. At fourteen, she was earning pocket money by babysitting, and when she was fourteen, Sam was a baby. Oh god.

  “You okay?” he asked, sliding his arm around her waist as she wavered on her feet.

  She shook her head. Time to acknowledge that doing strictly personal things with Sam was a mistake in the making. She should send him on his way before she went full-blown cougar on him.

  “Low blood sugar, I bet.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly seven. I’m going to run down the street to the pita place and grab us something to eat.”

  “No, don’t.”

  “You’re not hungry?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, averting her gaze to a random tile on the floor.

  “Hey.” Gently, he tipped her chin up, until their eyes met. “I know eating takeout pitas while you work isn’t the most impressive first date.”

  “First date?”

  “Yeah. First of many.” He kissed her then, a soft brushing of lips with a hint of tongue that made the tender contact anything but sweet. “Next time, I’ll take you out for a nice dinner, somewhere I can show you off to the world. Then dancing. Or a movie. Anything you can think of. Anything you want.”

  Next time. Out on the town with Sam, an in-public date because he clearly didn’t give a flip about the fourteen years. She was older, but she needed to grow up about their age gap. If she didn’t, there might not be a next time.

  SAM

  He pulled in behind Leigh’s compact SUV. Back at the bakery, she’d given him her home address, then they’d walked in separate directions to their respective vehicles. Rather than wait for him inside the house, she stood beside her small white Honda, smiling brighter than the glow of the setting sun. So pretty.

  “You found it,” she said as he walked up the driveway.

  “You give good directions.”

  “That’s not the only good thing I give.”

  Just like that, his dick was twice its usual size, eager for whatever other good things she had in mind. Greedy thing could wait. At least until they got into the house.

  She jingled the keys in her hand. “Ready?”

  “For anything.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  “I’m here for w
hatever you want.” He scooped up her hand and tucked it under the crook of his arm. “And nothing that you don’t. That’s a promise.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  The small, white, stucco house didn’t have a garage. No porch either. Just a five-by-five terracotta-tiled stoop that matched the color of the heavy oak door and gleaming trims. What the house lacked in size and extras, it made up for with charm. The exterior light was on, as promised by the father of Leigh’s child. More details required on that subject.

  “This is nice,” he said as she unlocked the door.

  “Thanks, we like it.” Inside, she closed the door with a hip bump and hung her keys and purse on an ornate wall hook. “So…”

  Light filtered into the front hallway from somewhere within the house. Leigh alternated between twisting her hands together and shoving them into her pockets. She smiled at him, but with effort. The arm’s length separating them might as well have been twenty.

  “Would you like a drink? I have bottled water, two kinds of juice, regular or diet pop, beer, red and white wine, tea or coffee.” She covered the top portion of her face with one hand and peeked out at him from beneath tented fingers. “God, listen to me. Clearly I’m better at customer service than seduction.”

  “Leigh.” He captured her hands and held them hostage between their bodies. “We’re friends, you can trust me. Whatever happens tonight—or doesn’t—there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

  A short laugh slipped from her mouth. “Easy for you to say. You’ve probably had more sex in the past month than I’ve had in a year.”

  Call him hypocritical, but that little tidbit hit the spot nicely. “Hey now. I’m not a total man-whore.” Anymore.

  “Sorry, that did sound judgmental. And prudish, which I’m not.”

  “Never thought you were.” Time to get rid of the tension that’d developed since they walked through the door. He advanced, backing her up to the wall with her hands pinned at her sides. “A prude wouldn’t demand to be fucked on the desk, like you did a couple hours ago.”

  “True, I did. And you turned me down.” She cocked her head. “Maybe you’re the prudish one.”