After a long moment, he responded. Sunday mornings. I’d go into my parents’ bedroom and my father would always be reading the newspaper, my mother doing some kind of paperwork. I’d slide between them and pretend.
She sat up. Pretend what?
That we were a real family.
Her heart lurched. What do you mean?
This response took even longer. She’d almost given up, wondering if she’d pried too much, when his response popped onto the screen. That was the extent of my relationship with them. They’re both married to their careers, worked long hours. Still do. If I lay very quiet and still, they’d let me stay.
Lexie shut her eyes, imagining the man she’d met this morning as a little boy craving his parents’ attention. A hollow feeling filled her. Sad.
We all have our stories.
She thought about her losses. Chris was a survivor then, too. Let me rephrase, what’s your favorite childhood memory that won’t break my heart?
That’s easy. I was walking home from school in the fifth grade when a stray kitten followed me. He was the cutest ball of fur, orange and white stripes and big green eyes. He also became my first pet. Never felt lonely in that house again. Are you a cat or dog person?
She warmed at the image of a big, tough guy holding a helpless kitten. Was there anything sexier? Neither. My mother’s allergic.
Are you?
I don’t know.
I guess we’ll have to run a trial. If you can tolerate an evening at my place, you’ll pass the test.
She snorted. A for effort.
Since part of Ms. Swann’s plans for the fifteenth ended at a swanky suite Lexie had already reserved for them at the Ritz, she typed: If we go to a hotel, that avoids the problem altogether.
Works for me. As long as we’re together. TTYL.
Night.
Lexie scrolled up the thread of texts and nodded. All the details she’d shared tonight on Ms. Swann’s behalf were true. And the stories he’d shared about his childhood tugged at her heart.
Or were they just that? Fictional tales to get Ms. Swann into his bed? Then again, why would he lie? Her boss was the one chasing him.
Frustrated by her merry-go-round of worries, she grabbed her Steel journal to update her notes before settling in for a late night session of writing. After all, the big date was only six days away.
Chapter Sixteen
“You ready?” Lexie bounced in her cross-trainers.
Her forehead puckered with concern, Isabella joined her at the women’s locker room door. “Are you sure it’s smart to talk with the guy?”
“I want to show Ms. Swann I can go the extra mile, you know?” She yanked open the door to the main gym. As much as she dreamed of overnight success, she couldn’t count on her writing to support her anytime soon.
If ever.
So depressing.
She lifted her chin. No negative thoughts allowed. If she worked hard and never quit, she’d make it happen.
“I think you’ve already proven that, but I hear you. Never know how much they’ll expect of us.” Isabella brushed past her. “Sorry, grabbing that elliptical before someone else. Good luck!”
Lexie hummed a few bars of her ringtone as she headed for the guy who could be Daniel Radcliffe’s stunt double. Was Chris really the man she’d texted all afternoon yesterday about his interests and pet peeves, then debated with last night about the pros and cons of city living?
Maybe.
She stopped a few feet away. “Hi.”
Chris glanced over his shoulder as he set a dumbbell onto the rack. “Hey!” His smile was polite, eyes wary.
What had she expected? Of course he wasn’t interested in her. That was a good sign. “We didn’t talk the other day on campus, so I figured I’d stop by before my session starts. You like working here?”
“Sure.” His shoulders relaxed.
Picking at her nail polish, she asked, “Been here long?”
“Two weeks.”
Her head whipped up. “Two weeks?”
He nodded. “Enjoying the facilities?”
“Mm-hmm.” He’s not Steel? No wonder Matthew hadn’t mentioned his friend when she’d asked about professors. He knew Chris couldn’t be the guy her boss had met back in March.
“Great, enjoy your workout. I see my next client over there. See you around?” He extended his hand.
Lexie smiled and shook it.
Pleasant, but not a single hint of Steel’s personality, which oozed through every text.
He’s so not Steel.
Another round lost, and she was still in the dark when it came to Steel’s identity.
Why do so many professors work as trainers? Isn’t that weird? She’d never thought of the profs at her college as being terribly fit. Maybe it was different in New York.
And why do I care? He’s not my guy.
Only four more days before Ms. Swann’s hot date with him.
“Prepared to sweat?”
She wobbled, that now-familiar fire igniting in her middle. “Um. Sure?” She twisted her hands so she wouldn’t play with her hair.
Matthew grinned.
“You’re in a good mood.” She couldn’t help but smile in return. He made her forget her worries, even those involving her uncontrollable attraction to him. “Win the lottery or something?” She leaned close, feeling bolder than usual. “Or are you just happy to see me?” Friday had been awesome. They’d held hands. She could swear he’d almost been about to kiss her a half dozen times that night.
Holding hands? Almost kissed? I sound like I’m back in middle school.
“I’m always in a good mood, and I’m always happy to see you. And…my news is way better than the lottery.”
“Ooh, I can’t wait to hear it. It’ll take my mind off my pain and suffering while you torture me.” Why hadn’t he kissed her? Was he trying to slowly drive her insane?
“Such a drama queen.” Matthew shook his head in mock disappointment. “C’mon.” He waved for her to follow. “Starting in here today.”
Lexie joined him inside the glass-partitioned room where they’d first met, all the weights and mats and bars the same. The only difference was her. She no longer avoided them. She didn’t want to avoid him anymore, either. Was that why he hadn’t kissed her? Could he see she was the type of girl who’d fall hard for him if he wasn’t careful?
He sat on the padded bench and slid to one end. “Whatcha thinking?”
Uh… She glanced around. “I was so clueless about exercise equipment. I’m amazed how much I’ve learned already.”
I’ve learned a lot about him, too.
Perching on the opposite end of the bench, she gripped the pad.
He was more than Thor with darker, shorter hair, and more than her trainer. He was a new friend, and if she could come to terms with her attraction for his delectable body, she’d start to relax.
Even without alcohol.
“You’re a star pupil.” He nudged her with an elbow.
Her breath hitched at his innocent contact. “Why, thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Lexie glanced sideways at him. He was such a flirt. “I need to be strong,” she muttered.
“What’s that?”
“I’m not looking forward to the impending torture.” That was true, although it wasn’t what she’d meant. “I like this kind of exercise, hanging out on a comfy seat. Could do this for hours.”
“I like it, too.” His voice was soft.
She warmed. “That’s good, because you’re stuck with me three more weeks.”
Matthew’s expression was solemn. “Ten hours.”
“Counting down already, huh?” The queasiness in her stomach grew along with the intensity in his gaze. Why had she brought it up? No need to think about the end of the month. She’d vowed to live in the present.
He shifted and nudged her shoulder. “I’m onto you.”
Lexie pretended to study the stick figure
poster on the wall behind him, all systems on high alert. He knows, he knows, he knows.
“You’re the world’s biggest procrastinator when it comes to working out.”
She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled. “Yep. Got me there.” Slapping her hands on her knees, she rose from the bench. He didn’t know how much she’d come to look forward to their time together. “What’s on the schedule today?”
“I’ve got a trainers’ meeting for about fifteen minutes, but should be able to join you at cardio. Good?”
She nodded, reassured by his smile. Maybe the end of their trainer-client relationship didn’t have to be the end. Everyone needed friends, even girls who didn’t want love.
…
Matthew watched the emotions flit across her transparent face. The envelope he’d wanted to give her since Saturday was now burning a hole in the pocket of his basketball shorts. He wanted out of the Friend Zone, to have Lexie to see him as more, but he’d stick to the game plan because he needed her to think it had all been her idea.
He stood. “Do you like surprises?”
Lexie looked up, her nose wrinkled like she was working through a problem. “Good or bad?”
“Good, of course.”
“How long between the announcement and the actual reveal?”
“What’s with the twenty questions?” he teased, enjoying her playful attitude.
“I need all the facts to make an informed decision.”
There was a lift to her chin and a sparkle in her eyes that almost made him forget his speech. Matthew slid his hand into the pocket with the envelope. “Three days.”
“Sheer anguish.” She groaned. “I’d be way too curious.”
“Good to know.” He threw her a matter-of-fact nod. He could almost hear her teeth grinding behind him as he strolled toward the exit. Stopping at the door, he put on his trainer face. “Treadmill’s programmed. If the meeting runs long, see me at the weight machines. Shoulder work.”
“Are you for real?”
Matthew averted his gaze, fighting the urge to smile.
She stalked him, arms crossed. “Tell me.”
“What?”
Lexie stepped closer. “Tell me.” She batted her lashes.
“Dust in your eyes?” It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms right then and be done with the farce.
She blushed, shaking her head. “Tell me. Please?”
He stepped back from her sweet scent. “It was a hypothetical.” He finally gave in to the urge to smile. “What are you shaking your head at me for?”
“Tsk. Tsk. Such a bad liar.” She stepped close and whispered, “Tell me.”
He was a bad liar. How was it that she hadn’t figured out the truth? Should he take that as a sign from the universe that he was lying to her for all the right reasons? “Sorry. Can’t be late. Stretch your neck and arms good.” He slipped out the door and escaped her playful punch aimed at his chest.
A quarter of an hour later, he jogged the reverse length of the gym, eager to execute Phase Two of his master plan. He slowed upon reaching the row of cardio machines and rolled his neck and shoulders.
“That was mean,” she accused, not bothering to look at him as she continued to run.
He leaned close to read the treadmill display. “How about I tell you in sixteen minutes?”
She flashed an innocent smile. “Tell me now, or I get off the machine.”
He folded his arms, playing along. “It’s your fitness.”
“It’s your reputation.” She flipped her ponytail over a shoulder. “By the way, the other trainers are watching.”
Matthew checked the mirror to call her bluff, but she wasn’t kidding around.
They were watching, but did she realize all eyes were on her, not him?
Couldn’t blame them. Lexie was the entire package—smart, sweet, and sexy. The best part, she didn’t realize her power, much less take advantage of it.
Look all you want, fellas. She’s going to be with me. He snorted. If I don’t fuck it up.
Like ignoring her when he should be charming her instead…
“Surprise. Two Broadway tickets. Premium package.” He swept the envelope from his pocket and tapped it against his palm. “Interested?”
Her eyes shone, but she cocked her head. “What’s the catch?”
He shrugged. “None. Answer an easy question, and one of these babies is yours.”
“What night?”
“Thursday, with me.”
“What play?”
“That’s the question.”
Lexie wrinkled her nose. “Give me a hint?”
He fanned his face with the envelope, riveted by the rise and fall of her chest. So close. So ripe and ready for picking.
What are you thinking, man? The woman’s far more than the sum of her parts. And focus, she’s waiting for an answer.
“Since I’m in a good mood, sure. It’s a popular musical.”
“Opening night date?”
He scrubbed his jaw.
“Only a true Broadway fanatic would know that. A ticket like the one you’re offering should only be matched with a most deserving recipient.”
“In that case, how about I throw in a romantic pre-show dinner, too?” He held her gaze.
She stumbled, breaking eye contact in the process, and grabbed the bars. “Romantic?”
Oops. Slow down. “Bad idea?”
She turned, her eyes filled with a mixture of regret and desire.
Damn, it was hard to keep to the script, but she needed it, so…
“That’s quite a package,” she said.
Her words had him snapping to attention, in more ways than one.
She dazzled him with a come-hither smile.
Brat. Maybe she was learning to give as good as she got…
He cleared his throat, fumbling through his memory for the correct date. “June twenty-third—”
“Two thousand seven.” With a delighted whoop, she vaulted off the machine.
“Final answer?” He held the envelope behind his back, in case she had any more femme fatale tricks up her nonexistent sleeves.
“True fans know the answer’s Wicked.” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers.
“Ding-ding-ding.” He held the envelope overhead like it was a championship belt for the Rocky fan bouncing around in front of him. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got ourselves a winner.”
A few clients and trainers close by shot curious looks their way, but when Lexie leaned forward to hug him, her full breasts pressing eagerly against his chest, all thoughts fled south.
“Wicked like you,” she whispered, gazing up at him, pink tongue darting out to moisten full lips. “Now hand over my prize.”
Desire, hot and greedy, licked at him. “Congrats,” he mumbled, patting her shoulder and stepping back. Blindly, he reached for a towel and wiped his brow. He wanted to explore her, please her, drive himself into her, make her cry out for more. He’d satisfy her. Again, and again, and again.
“Matthew?”
“What’s that?” His vision cleared.
“Shoulders?”
He nodded. “Yeah, uh, I’ll meet you there in a minute. Forgot something.” He smiled in reassurance then jogged to the locker room for a quick cool down. If she kept looking at him like that, he might not survive Phase Three.
Chapter Seventeen
Captivated by the green woman in a black cape and hat, the theater audience exploded into thunderous applause and rose as one. Lexie clapped until the last note of the Act I finale faded, then turned to the handsome man beside her. “Everything about this is incredible!”
“Not bad for a non-sporting event,” Matthew teased. “And it ain’t over yet.” His eyes held that hungry glint that had taken up permanent residence since she’d won the ticket.
Velvet curtains rustled, and a bald head appeared between the curtains to their private balcony. “Sir?” Their theater attendant leaned forwar
d to speak with her date.
My date?
Lexie sank onto the edge of her chair, hands twisting on her lap. If it looks like a date, acts like a date, sounds like a date… She sat back. Yep, I’m on a date.
“Flying Monkey Punch?” Matthew asked.
“That some new kind of boxing move?”
He leaned close and shook his head slowly. “Our attendant says they’re like you.”
“How’s that?” Lexie craned her neck toward the curtain, but couldn’t get a glimpse of the spritely older gentleman with Matthew’s broad shoulders in the way.
“Sweet, with a bit of a kick,” he explained.
“Ah.” A warm flush rushed through her at his assessment. “Sure. Why not?”
He handed her a souvenir cup filled with red fizzy liquid.
She set the drink down, hoping he didn’t notice that her fingers trembled at his nearness, and grabbed her Playbill to preview the upcoming musical numbers.
If only I could stop imagining what it would be like with him.
His scruff tickled her cheek
“Don’t be a parrot,” she breathed.
“A what?” he whispered.
Lexie shifted. Why had she said that? Maybe the cocktail she’d drunk that night at the karaoke bar hadn’t been to blame. Why couldn’t she stick to her rule about keeping her life private when it came to Matthew?
She glanced up and met his patient gaze. Or was he to blame, for being such a good listener? “Parrot,” she whispered. “My dad used to say that whenever I looked over his shoulder to see the computer. You know, like a pirate and his parrot.”
He smiled. “Cute.”
Mom and Dad had never given Aiden or her any reason to doubt their love. What would life be like without that security? Steel’s description of his childhood flew into her head. Poor guy.
Biting her lip, she glanced at the man sitting next to her. She’d confided far more with Steel, a man who didn’t know she existed, than with Matthew, a man who continually surprised her with his caring gestures. That needed to change. “My father died when I was a kid. We were really close, and I was angry for a long time that he’d left us way too soon. I wanted to talk about him, but it hurt too much. So I clammed up, and that caused a rift between my brother and me, because he thought I didn’t want to remember the good times. Took us both a long time to understand that we each needed to grieve in our own way, and in our own time. But I get it, now. I’m comfortable talking about him. In fact, I probably talk about him so much now because I’d held it all in for all those years.” Over a decade. “It’s just, the longer my brother and I went without talking, the further we grew apart, and the harder it has gotten to overcome.”
Text Me, Maybe Page 8