She offered her hand and they shook. “Renee Wright. My membership lapsed, but I'm interested in renewing. I haven't been here for a while so I was hoping you could show me around.” Her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, constantly straying to his muscled chest.
“I'd be happy to give you the tour. You know, every renewal comes with a complimentary personal training session. If you're free now, I just had a cancellation. I see you're dressed for it.”
“That would be great, Lyle.”
He punched a few keys into the computer behind the reception desk. “You want to go ahead and renew then?”
If she made that financial commitment, she’d surely make the time and effort to come.
“It’s only nineteen dollars a months. And I see you already have automatic payments coming out of your bank account.” He raised an eyebrow.
She swallowed hard. Wasn’t as if it was a lot of money. Heck, she got almost that much for one manicure. “Why not.”
His smile widened. “All done.”
She dropped her keys in a cubbyhole next to the desk. “Where do we start?”
“Let me grab my body fat calipers.”
Fat calipers? Sounded like a real torture device. She grabbed his thick forearm as he started to walk away. “Um, can we skip that part?” Warmth settled on her cheeks.
“Perhaps next time.”
How about not in this lifetime? No hunky guy was going to pinch her fat.
He led her to the bank of cardio equipment. “Normally, you'd start here. Are you currently doing anything aerobic?”
“I run sometimes,” she lied.
“Good. You can get on the treadmill or the elliptical trainer after we do your weight training if you'd like.” He led her deeper into the dungeon to an area of assorted silver weight machines. “Let's try this one. Sit here.” He patted the seat then adjusted the weight stack. “This one works your inner thighs.” He helped her move her legs over two swinging arms that looked like the leg rests on a wheelchair. “Now push together.” His massive hands landed on her outer thighs, forcing them closer together.
She repeated the move.
“Is that too heavy?”
“It's fine.” She struggled to close her legs without his assistance.
“Okay. Let's have a set of twenty.” He counted for her, helping her on the last two. “Good. Now rest a minute, then we'll do another set.”
“Hi, Lyle.” A blonde bimbo-looking creature strutted past in a hot pink thong-back leotard over white tights. Apparently the place didn’t have much of a dress code.
“Hi, Bridget.” He watched her until she disappeared around a corner.
“Who was that? Good and Plenty?” Renee asked.
He laughed. “She's definitely eye candy.”
Renee rolled her eyes then did another two sets before they moved to the next machine, which looked similar to the first.
“This one works your outer thighs. Start with your legs together and push them apart.”
She completed three sets on that machine, after which Lyle took her to four others.
“Okay, last machine for today, then you're done with lower body. Next time we do upper body. This is a leg press.” He showed her how to adjustment the weights and back cushion. “Now sit here and lean your back against the pad.”
She sat just off the floor with her legs facing up and out in front of her.
“Now, push straight out, then let your legs come back toward your body. We're going to do a set of fifteen.”
She pushed her legs hard as she could until she heard a ripping sound. Confusion gave way to horror as the inner seam of her pants gave way.
Please, let this not be happening, not now.
A two-inch long fissure erupted near the crotch. Her face burned as she watched a grotesque bulb of brown flesh grow on her inner thigh. Trying to minimize it, she pushed her legs out straight, but it was too late. The thick ball of skin and fat got a little smaller, but wouldn't go back inside her pants. She could hardly breath. Her heart strummed in her ears.
Unfortunately, Lyle was actually looking at her when all this occurred instead of the bevy of Barbies he'd been concentrating on throughout most of her workout. Head suddenly pounding, she moved the safety handles to lock the weight stack into place, then pulled herself up and off the machine.
“Thanks, Lyle. I'll call you.” She ran for the door, grabbing her keys from the cubbyhole. Then she sprinted for her car. Once inside, she laid her head against the steering wheel. That had to be the most embarrassing moment ever. And she'd had plenty of them. But then again, she never had to see Lyle again. He was probably having a big tee-hee over it right this very moment. Maybe they were describing the scene over the PA system.
She took a deep, cleansing breath. So much for the gym. Black women were supposed to have big booties anyway.
But she’d just wasted a couple hundred bucks on another failed attempt at self-improvement. If she stayed the course she’d be in the poorhouse in no time. Or worse—she’d be forced to move back with her parents.
* * * * *
“So how did it go with the fertility doctor?” Renee set two cups of coffee on her nail table Tuesday morning—one for her, one for Melissa.
Melissa slumped in the chair. “I started on this regimen of hormone shots that would make Vin Diesel turn gay.” She blew out a long breath. “I have to mix three different vials of stuff, then give myself shots morning and night. I swear, every time the wind blows I start to cry.”
“And what do all these pharmaceuticals do for you?”
“Aside from depleting our checking account, you mean?”
“Yeah, aside from that?”
“They're supposed to make me more fertile and make my womb a more pleasant place for a little zygote to set up shop. Rich and I must have sex when the moon is full on the third Tuesday of the month, then go outside naked, pray to the Moon Goddess and spin around three times.” She rolled her eyes.
Renee chuckled. “So if you do all that, you'll be able to get pregnant and maintain the pregnancy?”
“That's the plan.”
“I know it'll happen for you.” She prayed it would. Her client seemed so dedicated to having a child.
After seeing Melissa out, Renee was sitting at the reception desk when the front door chimed and a young man came in holding a green glass vase filled with a dozen red roses. She crossed her fingers, hoping they were for her. Perhaps from Cleave or Joe?
“Becky Weiss?” the man asked.
Her heart sank and guilt stabbed at her for it. “I'll give them to her. Thanks.” She carried the flowers to Becky's station. “For you, my dear.” She set them down on the counter and sniffed in the aroma.
Becky stopped sweeping the hair around her station to admire the bouquet. Leaning the broom against her chair, she approached the arrangement and found the tiny card sticking out. A dreamy smile settled on her lips.
Renee, Zoey and Chantelle all stared at her, waiting for an explanation.
“Ahem,” Hazel cleared his throat. “Zoey, I have an appointment after this, dear. Are you going to get the rest of these rollers out and finish my hair?”
“Sorry.” Zoey threw Renee an exaggerated frown before continuing with Hazel's hair.
“Well?” Renee finally said.
“They're from Charles. Let's say we took our relationship to a new level over the weekend.”
Chantelle stared at Becky, then at Renee with a puzzled expression.
Renee shook her head. “I'll explain later, Chantelle.”
“Things going well, then?” Renee kept her voice quiet as she finished sweeping for Becky.
“They're going great.” She took another whiff of the flowers.
“Ladies,” Hazel said while Zoey teased his hair. “I am looking for a very understanding woman. Any of you know someone searching for an unusual, loving heterosexual man who likes to dress as a woman?”
All eyes in the salon fell
upon Hazel, but no one spoke.
Finally, Chantelle sauntered across the room and handed Hazel a slip of paper. “This is my Mama's number. Her name is Ramona and she's game for most anything. She broke up with her boyfriend recently, so she's on the prowl. Why don't you give her a call?” With that, Chantelle returned to her table, winking at Renee as she passed.
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
When Hazel's hair was done, he walked to Chantelle's table. “Thank you, Chantelle, I'll give her a call. If she’s half as pretty as you, I’ll be thrilled.”
Renee waited for him to leave before she said anything to Chantelle. “Do you think that was a good idea?”
Chantelle giggled. “My Mama's gonna shit when she finds out what kind of unusual man he is.”
Zoey was going to blow a gasket when she found out what Chantelle had done. Peace and harmony, she silently chanted. That was all she wanted at the salon. Peace and harmony.
Zoey came over and set her hands on her slim hips. “You mean you gave him your mother’s number as a joke?” Her face was red and her chest heaved.
Chantelle shrugged. “You never know. Maybe she'll like him. She’s dated a couple white men. They could share makeup tips. It would be like dating your best girlfriend.” She started giggling again.
“Chantelle, you're wicked,” Renee said.
“If you piss off my client and I lose him, Chantelle, I'll…I'll be very upset. You better hope that doesn't happen.” Zoey scowled, spun on her heels and marched back to her station.
Renee prayed nothing would happen that would cause either woman to leave the salon. Losing a renter would surely put them in a deep, deep hole.
* * * * *
Joe opened his front door Friday night, looking quite sexy leaning against the doorjamb wearing a pair of faded Levis and a royal blue T-shirt that hugged his muscular shoulders in all the right ways. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”
Renee nearly swooned as he pulled her close for a kiss. He smelled like a pine forest and she breathed deeply, hoping to memorize the comfort of the moment.
His touch sent delicious chills rippling through her. “Nice to see you too.” She walked past him into the house carrying a bottle of white zinfandel. The aroma of garlic filled the air. “Something smells good.”
Besides you.
The living room was open to a dining area and the kitchen sat to the left, separated from the rest of the room by a long snack bar. A skylight in the vaulted ceiling let in a little moonlight. Joe's color scheme from the outside carried into the interior. Pale blue and gray hues were everywhere; a blue sectional couch, gray carpeting, white tile in the kitchen and in front of the stone fireplace and a blue tablecloth on the dining room table. Everything was neat and clean. Good sign. No more slobs like Damien. “Do I get the nickel tour?”
“Sure. This is the great room, of course. Back there are three bedrooms and two bathrooms.” He pointed toward a hallway. “Did you want to see all that?”
“Well, if I don't, it's only the penny tour.”
He shifted from foot to foot. “Um, that part of the house isn't as neat as the front. I sort of threw all the junk that was out here, back there.”
“So you're not as perfect as I thought. Forget it, I'm leaving.” She started for the door then turned back and grinned at him.
He met her gaze. Was he blushing or did he have slight sunburn? She could have melted under the heat of his stare.
A white longhaired cat slinked by, rubbing Renee's leg, meowing.
“So which one is this” The feline purred as Renee scratched it behind the ears. “No, don't tell me. Let me guess. Are you Law?”
“Sorry, that's Order. Law's around here somewhere. He's a little shy. He'll come out soon enough.” He gestured toward the wine bottle in her hand. “Shall I open that?”
She handed it over.
“There's some crab dip and crackers on the coffee table. Help yourself.”
She turned toward the couch, searching for the food. What she found was Law. The gray cat stood on his hind legs, licking dip from the bowl. “On second thought, I'll skip the dip. No offense.” She tipped her chin toward the cat.
“What's wrong with…Law!” Joe's shout sent the cat running from the room. “Damn it. I'm sorry, I should have known better.”
“I don't like crab dip anyway,” she lied. “Apple did the same thing to me once. Ate an entire plate of cheese I left out.”
“Yeah, my fault. I know better.” He snatched the dip bowl and dumped the contents down the drain. Then he opened the refrigerator and stared inside. “Speaking of cheese, how about cheddar and crackers.”
“I love cheddar. Can I help?” God, he was adorable. She felt so at ease with him, and so turned on. Completely different from how it was with Cleave.
“I've got it. Dinner is in the oven. We're having Chicken Parmesan.” He placed a plate of cheese and a knife on the snack bar, then sat on one of the gray upholstered bar stools, patting the seat next to him. “Come have a bite to eat with me.”
She grabbed the plate of crackers from the coffee table and joined him. As she sat on the bar stool, he looped his hand around her neck, guiding her closer for another kiss.
“Did I tell you how gorgeous you look?” He stared at her a long moment. “I love the color. It's different.”
“One of the hairdressers got a wild hair, so to speak, and decided I needed a little pink in my life.”
He ran his fingers through her hair, searching her eyes. “Please don't bite me,” he whispered.
She giggled. “I promise I won't.” Her lips met his in another soft kiss. When her stomach growled, she gave him an apologetic smile then positioned a slice of cheese on a cracker and held it to his lips. “Open up.” She fed him the cracker, then made one for herself.
He pulled her off her stool and guided her body between his thighs. She planted her hands on his thighs. God, they were so muscular. A cyclone swirled in her belly, and it wasn't from the food.
“At this rate, we'll never have dinner.” He buried his face in her neck. His tongue flicked at her earlobe, tickling her and ratcheting her libido higher.
She couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I'm sorry. I'm very ticklish, like everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” His eyebrows waggled.
Her cheeks warmed. “Almost everywhere.”
“I'll try to remember that.” He nudged a curl away from her neck to gently nip at the flesh there. “That doesn't tickle, does it?” His voice was a low growl.
“No, it feels good.” She held her head back as he nibbled on her skin. A beeping sound startled them both and they separated. “Good thing you weren't kissing me. You know what happens when I get startled during a kiss.” She batted her lashes.
“Good thing I don't have the same affliction or your neck would look like Dracula had been there. That means the chicken's done. I'll grab it from the oven, then I guess we should start on our salads. I have homemade bleu cheese dressing.”
“Wow. Catching criminals, rescuing damsels in distress and a chef too. What other talents do you have?”
“You'll find out.” He picked up a wooden salad bowl from the counter and brought the dressing to the table as Renee poured them each a glass of wine.
“Oh, I forgot something.” Circling around the couch, he picked up long butane lighter, and lit a log in the fireplace. Then he pressed a button on the stereo and soft rock music filled the room. “Now we're ready to eat.” He’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble for her.
“You know, officer, I could get used to this.”
“Glad to hear that.” He lifted his glass, fixing his smoky stare on her. “To you.”
“To us.” Although she was hungry and the food looked good, there was no room in her stomach with all the butterflies dancing inside it.
They discussed their jobs, their families, politics and even religion. Their opinions concurred on just about everything. Joe told her ab
out the stupidest criminals he'd ever met and Renee shared tidbits about some of her more interesting clients. They never seemed to run out of things to say. After dinner, she helped him clear the table and load the dishwasher. When the work was done, they settled on the couch in front of a roaring fire.
“Your hair glows in the firelight.” He combed through her locks with his fingers, sending a pleasant chill through her.
Feeling more relaxed than she had with a man in ages, she stretched out on the sofa. Joe lay next to her. She might be heading for trouble, but she couldn't help herself. His dark soulful eyes burned for her, she could feel it, and it made her whole body tingle with excitement.
He kissed her gently at first, then deeply, hungrily. She squirmed, feeling a flutter down below. He slid his hand up under her shirt and a whisper of a breeze pebbled her already sensitized nipples. She shivered as his hot breath landed on her skin.
She found the velvety skin of his back and felt him quiver. He unfastened the hook on the front of her white lacy bra and opened it. His eyes caressed her for a moment before he lowered his mouth to her breasts. The stubble on his chin scratched her delicate skin.
His erection poked against her stomach, hard and urgent. Her heart pounded as intense desire burned through her, throbbing, begging her to continue. She was simmering just for him, her whole body on fire. Her hips seemed to have a life all their own as they rocked against him. Soon there would be no turning back. She had to stop this, but it felt so good, so right.
But she shouldn't, she couldn't.
“Stop.” She pushed him away. “I'm not ready for this, not yet.” Although her heart told her otherwise, she forced her brain to rule.
He hung his head. “I'm sorry. I'm really…I like you, a lot. You turn me on so much, Renee.” He got off the couch and offered her his hand to help her up. She let him pull her into his arms. “But I’m a gentleman and I'll wait until you're ready.”
Wrong Way Renee Page 9