“I don’t expect you two kids to support me. You have your own lives.”
“It’s not much, but I want to send you whatever I can each week. Between that and whatever Aiden can spare, we’ll help you get by until you’re well enough to get another job.”
“But—”
“No buts,” she said, proud of the calm in her voice. “Let me help. I love you, too, and I want to do it. You’ve sacrificed so much for us since Dad died.” She took her mother’s silence as agreement. “Talk tonight, okay?”
“Okay. Love you. Be careful.”
Gazing at the brilliant sky with its scattered clouds floating by, Lexie let the memories settle and her goals resurface. She had to succeed, for her mother’s sake as much as her own.
With renewed determination, she sank onto a marble step and pulled out the boss’s phone. When she tapped Contacts, one appeared: Buns of Steel. She snorted and tapped again. Ms. Swann had sent the first text on St. Patrick’s Day, reminding the trainer when they’d met and expressing her interest in getting together “for a bit of fun.”
His response to her boss’s initial text had arrived a few days later: ‘Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind…’ I’m on overload the next few weeks as well, but schedule should open up in May. Does that work for you?
She smiled. Her boss’s Google search had been accurate. The quote was by Hawthorne, and an obscure commentary by the author on life in general, rather than a line from one of his classics.
Phone in her lap, she bit into her apple. What could she write to inspire his quick response? There were plenty of memorable quotes from The Scarlet Letter, but no, those were too predictable. She took another bite of her fruit and considered.
Lexie was tossing her apple core when the perfect line popped into her head. With eager thumbs, she typed her favorite Yeats’ quote: ‘For everything that’s lovely is but a brief, dreamy, kind delight.’ A new month. Another try. Would you be free this Friday evening? Look forward to getting to know you. She read the text twice, then hit send before returning the phone to her purse.
If the guy didn’t respond, it was his loss. Well, it would likely be hers, too, but she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. Ms. Swann had granted her an extra thirty minutes of respite, and she wasn’t about to waste it. She pulled out her notebook and pen and began to write.
Chapter Four
‘April is the cruelest month.’ With spring comes essay grading and the final push before exams, along with fitness clients far more motivated than usual. I love the season. I love the work. But I also regret having to decline your invitation. I would’ve enjoyed hearing your interpretation of Hawthorne’s quote. :)
Lexie slouched on the women’s locker room bench and combed her fingers through her hair, still damp from her post-workout shower. Crap. She’d failed.
Her cell rang and she lifted it to her ear, not bothering to look at the screen since only her mom and roommate ever called. “Hello?”
“I found the most adorable heels to go with my dress.”
She sat up. Ms. Swann had never called after hours before.
“I want to make it a night he’ll never forget. Can you take notes?”
“Uh—I’m just leaving the gym.” Her stomach clenched. How could she have been so confident when she’d sent that text to him six hours ago? And how was she going to tell her boss the bad news?
“This won’t take long.”
While Ms. Swann rattled off the names of her preferred restaurant and nightclubs, she scrambled to jot them down in her notebook, clutching her middle when the butterflies inside morphed into flapping birds of prey.
“Got that?”
“Yeah, but—”
“What would I do without you? Looking forward to updates.”
“Ms. Swann?” She checked the screen. Call ended. So much for telling her.
When the locker room door opened a few minutes later, Lexie was still staring into space, mulling over her options.
“What’s wrong, chica?”
Isabella, her friend and coworker of three weeks, approached.
Lexie held out the boss’s phone, since her coworker already knew about her unusual assignment from their earlier conversation in the copy room.
Isabella read the messages, and then sank onto the bench next to her. “It’s not that bad.”
“Think I need to update my LinkedIn profile?”
She looped a comforting arm around her.
“Turns out Ms. Swann’s more serious about this guy than I’d anticipated.”
“Could it have been her nickname for him that threw you off?”
Lexie laughed. “Yeah, could’ve been. Well, I’d better find a magic wand if I’m going to play fairy godmother to Buns and Swann, since even I know that reservations at Lynda’s Steakhouse are hard to come by.” She stood. “Of course, nothing else matters if I don’t get him to show.”
“Then you’ve got one choice. Convince him.”
“I know what I’ll do. I’ll treat him like he’s the last single man on earth.” Lexie bounced from one foot to another like a prizefighter. “By the time their date rolls around, he’ll be so intellectually turned on by my texts, he’ll be head over heels for her.” She stilled, the tips of her ears burning. “I only wish I didn’t have to lie.”
Isabella pulled her in for a quick hug. “Hang in there.”
“If I only knew more about the guy.” Maybe there was someone who could help track down her mystery man. She smiled. Of course there was. “Later. I’m off to eat lightning and crap thunder.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, one of my dad’s favorite lines from Rocky.” Lexie paused at the door. “The coach tells the boxer all his hard work will pay off when he steps into the ring a very dangerous man.”
“And here I thought they were just dumb boxing flicks.” Isabella grinned.
“Join me for a movie marathon someday. Always up for it,” she said, then stepped into the main gym to locate her trainer. Humming her favorite movie theme song, she inhaled the spa-like air. Lavender and lemons. Dad would’ve gotten a kick out of that, too.
She strode forward, falling silent when she spied her target. How did he manage to make stacking towels as erotic as a Thunder From Down Under performance?
Matthew turned. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She stopped at a safe distance.
Safe from what? His scorching hotness? Or from my naughty side?
“Can I ask you a question?”
He smirked. “You just did.”
Smartass. She found herself smiling. “Could you tell me which trainer’s also a professor?”
He leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms.
“If it helps, the guy works mornings.”
“Why do you want to know?” He signaled for her to walk with him.
“My boss, well, she mentioned something about a professor working here.”
“She?”
“I work for Sylvia Swann. You know her?”
“Seen her around.” Matthew shrugged. “Why ask me and not her, then?”
Aw, damn. She’d really hoped he’d know the guy’s name. “Thanks, anyway. Uh, Matthew?”
“Yeah?” He glanced up from his phone.
“The morning manager’s name is Mike, right?”
His eyes turned thoughtful. “Yup.”
“Great. Thanks again.” She turned and headed for the elevator. Maybe if she walked away from him fast enough she wouldn’t blurt out something completely outlandish, like how she’d love to have wild animal sex with him.
Useless urges.
She was checking her messages at the elevator when heavy footsteps approached and stopped in front of her.
His scent filled the space.
“Did you remember which one’s a professor?” she asked, that phone-sex voice of hers back for an encore.
Matthew looked deep into her eyes, as if searching for an answer only she could pr
ovide, then shook his head slowly. “How about I contact Mike and save you the legwork?”
“I figured you’d want me walking more.” She smiled. “Considering you’re my trainer.”
Ugh. I’m flirting with him. What’s next? Flipping my hair?
He leaned against the column opposite the elevator and gave her a lazy smile.
Hope flowered inside of her.
Stop. He’s off-limits.
Dropping her gaze, she got another eyeful of those muscled thighs. Heaven bless spandex. She coughed and tucked her phone into her sweatshirt pocket. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it myself.”
Right after I find that elusive magic wand.
Chapter Five
“Hey, I’ve got a better idea. How about I give Mike a call right now?” Matthew pulled out his phone and tapped the manager’s number.
Lexie shrugged.
Did she want the information or not? He put the phone to his ear. As expected, the call went to voicemail after two rings. “No answer. I’ll try again later. Give me your number, and I’ll text his response.”
She wrinkled her nose.
So, she didn’t trust him. Fair enough. “Okay, then. I’ll leave a voicemail at the work number you gave me on your form.”
“You really don’t have to.” She jabbed the elevator button.
“You sure?”
The elevator chimed its arrival.
“I’m sure. Good night.” She raced into the car as the doors whooshed open, but not before he caught a whiff of her scent. Reluctant to see her go just yet, he gripped the top frame of the elevator with both hands and leaned in. Would it catch her eye? “Remember to stretch.”
Her tongue peeked out to moisten full, pink lips, and her eyes swept over him.
Hell, yeah. She’d be thinking about him long after the doors closed. He stepped back, strangely satisfied. “And drink plenty of water.”
Her shoulders slumped. “April truly is the cruelest month.”
“What?” He shot an arm between the doors and halted their progress, his mind running through the odds of her citing the same line of poetry he’d sent Sylvia Swann fifteen minutes ago.
“Nothing.” Her face flushed. “Just a quote I read.”
But where did she read it?
He racked his brain, staring at the woman who had his body raging for just one touch from her.
“T. S. Eliot, I believe,” she added, her tone wistful.
He swallowed and did his best to sound cooler than he felt. “I believe so, too. Next time?”
“Next time.”
Matthew stared at the elevator long after its doors had closed. Would Sylvia Swann have forwarded her assistant the text he’d sent? From the little he knew about J&C’s newest partner, she didn’t strike him as the type to confide in a subordinate and—considering the woman’s ego was rumored to be even bigger than his—it didn’t make sense she’d brag about a rejection. But what did he know?
And why should he care?
Because you like Lexie.
Sure, he’d been intrigued by the text, but not the woman behind it. Lexie was more his type.
More? Since when do you have a type?
Tapping his phone, he scrolled down the texts. Hmm. The first was different from the others. He rubbed the back of his neck as he replayed the night’s events in his mind, along with any details he knew about his new client and J&C. If his suspicion was on the mark, he wasn’t the only one in the client-trainer relationship withholding information.
Lexie was an executive assistant. Check. She held an English degree. Check. His literary quote in his first text to Sylvia might have led the woman to research his background and discover he was a professor. Check. As a new partner, Sylvia would be consumed by her work with little time to socialize. Check. Partners at J&C had a reputation of asking assistants to take care of personal business in addition to corporate tasks.
He scratched the scruff on the side of his jaw.
Was the first text different from the others because a different woman had written them? If so, then Lexie using the quote he’d sent her boss made a hell of a lot more sense. But why would she care about which men her boss was chasing?
Unless… Sylvia had given her new assistant a task as some sort of test. Could Lexie’s job somehow hinge on whether she succeeded in getting that date for her boss? She had seemed pretty intent on learning the man’s name, and even more disappointed when he hadn’t supplied it.
Aw, shit. If that was the case, he’d just screwed things up for her by turning her boss down.
His phone buzzed.
Your mother’s birthday is the 15th. Don’t forget.
Matthew knew the drill. No worries. Bought a charm for her bracelet and will order flowers for her office.
Another mess.
He pinched the bridge of his nose then exhaled. Might as well focus on a situation he had a chance in hell of fixing…
Perhaps, with his godfather’s help, he could make everyone happy. He’d play along with the date—to a certain point—so Lexie would succeed at her task, if his gut feeling about that was correct. And if he managed things right, Sylvia would also get a chance to show her value to J&C.
And as for him, since he was being so giving toward others… Well, he’d have the opportunity to discover whether Lexie Bloom was the more in his life he hadn’t known he wanted.
Check.
Chapter Six
Lexie released the dead bolt with a twist of her key and entered the one-bedroom apartment on Bowery she shared with her best friend. “Sam?” Clicking on the lights as she walked, Lexie peeked in the bedroom and bath.
Her best friend who was never home.
Alone as usual.
She plopped onto the sofa that, with a lift and pull, transformed into her bed. Lumpy, but it was hers.
Sirens blared on the street. Theirs wasn’t the nicest or safest of neighborhoods in the city, but it wasn’t the worst, either, for a lower-rent space on the island of Manhattan.
After recovering from the image of Matthew Hennessey leaning into the elevator car like he was Rocky and she was Adrian, she’d stared out the F train’s window at the underground blackness, debating her Buns of Steel problem. She didn’t know much about the man her boss wanted to catch.
She tapped the boss’s phone against her weary head. Think, think, think.
The phone pinged.
‘Life is the flower for which love is the honey.’ Please ignore my last text. I’d love to get together. Can’t make this Friday, but how about the 15th?
She read it twice, and, to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, pinched herself. “Ow. Yep, it’s real.” Lexie sprang off the sofa and ran through the apartment, pumping her fists. “He changed his mind. Am I good or what? And the dude quotes Victor Hugo. How cool is that?” She flopped back on the cushions and reveled in her good fortune, before snatching her own phone from her purse. Tapping the screen, she logged in to Ms. Swann’s Google calendar. “Please be open, please be open. Score! The fifteenth works.” She added the new event as B.O.S. 7:00-11:00 PM. “Nope, that doesn’t look right,” she muttered, then tapped some more, and smiled. “Steel.”
Before he changed his mind again, Lexie typed her response. The fifteenth’s perfect. I ask just one favor. ‘Tread softly for you tread on my dreams.’
A staccato heartbeat later, he responded. I’m part of your dreams?
High on her success, she typed back. Every night since we first met.
I’ll be available after eight. That okay? Tell me where you’d like to meet, and I’ll be there.
“Yes, yes, yes.” She sang loud and off-key, but didn’t care. Let Chihuahua bark next door. Shaking with relief, she typed her agreement and sent him the link to Ms. Swann’s preferred restaurant.
Phew. She was tired. Running around the apartment had to count as her stretching before bed, especially since she’d just confirmed a date on her boss’s behalf at an establishment she’
d yet to reserve.
The phone pinged again.
‘The faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.’ Look forward to seeing you.
Snatching a pillow next to her, she hugged it close, her middle warm and mushy like the leftover Chinese noodles she’d eaten for dinner. If she were foolish enough to believe that the anonymous trainer-slash-professor she’d begun to think of as Steel was a man who actually meant what he wrote… She shook her head.
It was a line, a means to an end.
Just like her messages to him…and her position at the firm.
Until then. Lexie hit send, then leaned forward to exchange the phone for her laptop. Opening her web browser, she settled in for a long night. She’d squeaked by in the first round, but the fight was far from over. Next up, planning her restaurant and nightclub strategy. Glancing at the notebook and pen on the coffee table, she sighed. Writing would have to wait.
Chapter Seven
Wednesday evening, Matthew strolled south along Park Avenue with his new client, sunshine streaming between the skyscrapers at each cross street, providing them sporadic warmth against the April breeze.
“A brisk walk was the best idea, thanks.” Her eyes darted from one building to the next, soaking in the city’s sights, unlike jaded New Yorkers like him who mostly took it for granted.
“Much better than jogging indoors on a treadmill?” he teased, resisting the urge to touch the hair framing her face.
For the last few days, Lexie had been a constant in his brain. He’d found himself staring off into space, thinking about her.
Lame.
But he couldn’t help it.
“Your knee feeling better?”
She paused and flexed it. “Much. I should’ve listened to you and stretched more. I felt like the rusty Tin Man from Wizard of Oz, after sitting in an office chair all day. It’s all good, though.”
Wonder what she thought of those texts the other night? If she really was trying to do this for her boss, he’d have to come clean soon. But for now, he hoped to get to know her better.
Text Me, Maybe Page 3