Chase quickly followed, turned her around to face him, and silenced any further protest by lowering his lips breathtakingly onto hers, an act that even in her chagrin she responded to with fervor. Minutes later, as he tore his lips away from hers, he shook a weary finger at her. “We don’t go to sleep angry. I know you mean well, angel. If you are right about Logan and this girl, then nothing you can do will help or hinder their getting together. Right or wrong?”
“Yes,” she begrudgingly admitted, her thoroughly kiss-swollen lower lip still protruding.
“You wouldn’t have wanted someone getting this involved in our affairs, now, would you?” Chase asked with a worn-out but still fiendishly roguish smile, tracing his thumb across her cheek to check for any stray tears.
“No,” Amanda huffed, refusing a total surrender by turning back around, yet allowing him to reposition her into the very spot where their conversation started, snug and secure against him. She murmured under her breath, “But a little push never hurts.”
As Chase drifted off to sleep, the last thing he remembered, after thinking his wife had way too much time on her hands, was to tell her, “If anyone knows about pushing, it’s you.”
Chapter Nine
Holly lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling with fingers tightly intertwined across her stomach, a position she had assumed a thousand times before, throughout her childhood and adolescence. When in the darkness, she would pray to God. She would pray to feel the love of the detached unyielding people who created her. She prayed to be understood and appreciated and given a chance to succeed, even if she didn’t exactly know what her definition of success was. And daily, without fail, she would ask God to please let her be thin. Not forever, she would pray, just for a few days. Just long enough so that she might know what it’s like to bare her midriff, shop for a bikini. To look forward to attending the sort of event that required a sleeveless clingy little black dress, after receiving the countless invitations that were sure to accompany her new willowy figure. To show off her legs in a tight miniskirt with stiletto heels and not look like a moose trying to ice-skate. To have lecherous jerks gawk and stare, not because they were snickering at her rolls of fat, but because they were marveling at her beauty as she gracefully breezed by them without so much as a backward glance. To feel light on her feet as opposed to like a bull in a china shop, lumbering instead of walking. For one stinking day to not have to give a second thought to clothes and scales and judgments. It wasn’t too much to ask, and she would give anything back in return.
She knew that prayer by heart, although it had been a long time since she called upon it. Once she married she had been free to abandon it, secure that she had someone by her side who accepted her and then loved her, in spite of and even because of her socially perceived shortcomings. Bruce had never bothered with and was likely incapable of eloquent pronouncements about beauty or desire, but he did tell her he loved her every day with sincere affection. For Holly that was more than enough, and her prayers became ones of gratitude and thankfulness. About three seconds after they lowered him into the ground, she stopped praying altogether.
Thank God she was no longer the praying kind, she thought. After tonight, she wouldn’t even know what the hell to ask for.
Holly tried to reconcile the events of the evening. The way things were changing was too radical. Or was it that she’d been living in a state of suspended animation since Bruce’s death? Eight years ago, she had been living in the woods in Ontario and could count her social circle on one hand. Twenty months ago, she was virtually alone watching the man she pledged to stand by forever take his last breath. Now she was dining with baseball heroes. A week ago, she didn’t even know what a Chase Walker was, and if she’d had to venture a guess, she would have said it was some new fitness craze for geriatrics or a funky alcoholic beverage involving a shot and a beer. She thought back to sitting at the table in the restaurant, how surreal it all seemed. How surreal her life had become since getting on that plane and sitting down next to that man. How Logan was able to make her feel again, even if that feeling was intimidation and caution that morphed into admiration. And now she could add disconcertment. There were too many variables she just hadn’t counted on.
Originally, Holly thought “personal trainer” was just a polite term for “drill sergeant,” a mean-spirited taskmaster whose only goal in life was to try to kill you in the most wretched yet civilized ways possible. It was only your hatred for him that sustained you. When she accepted Logan’s proposal, she had been more than willing to hate him. Holly only excelled at hating herself. When she first met Logan, she was sure he would fill the role of hate magnet nicely. It would be like a mutual-torture society. He could hate her imperfections for her, and she could hate everything else. Sure, he was charming and hotter than Lucifer’s loincloth. She could consider that a bonus, for the days when she didn’t particularly feel like hating anybody.
So he was good-looking. Big deal. Good-looking she could handle. Anyone willing to take out a loan could achieve beauty. Tuck this, suck that, take a bit off here. Change colors on a whim. But character? It had no price tag; no amount of money could buy it. When Logan turned out to be a genuine human being and an all-around nice guy, Holly felt like she’d maybe turned a corner and possibly even made a friend. All he expected of her was that she participate in her own life. She had made the conscious decision when she started training that her best course of action was to just show up, refuse to whine, and focus on staying alive, no matter what atrocities he forced her to endure.
And the simple approach worked better than she ever imagined. Holly learned that she loved the feel of her strength bursting out of her. To have a totally different kind of pain, the kind that, after she gritted her teeth and got through it, would stop. He knew just how to create that pain and at the same time confirm to her that it was worth it. But she hadn’t counted on all the touching.
Sweet Jesus, the touching. So subtle at first, the strong encouraging hands over hers to help her pump out the last few repetitions in a set, when fatigue began to set in. His hands weren’t really pushing the weight for her, but instead, there was almost a transfer of energy from him to her, to help her get it accomplished. He adjusted her shoulders, arms, legs, and sometimes hips to make sure her form was perfect, helping her attain the maximum benefit from the exercises and minimize risk of injury. Holly understood the science behind it. She also understood that it had been a long time since she’d felt a man’s touch, and Logan’s touch was becoming more and more electrifying. She worked harder and harder to keep her efforts from requiring his assistance. She began to growl and snap when he even pretended he was going to help her finish her set. She tried doing it in a way that sent the message that she was digging down deep for more energy to do it herself, and it usually worked.
There was no way, however, to escape the stretch. And after all this time, she still hadn’t gotten used to it. In fact, they seemed to last longer, had become more intimate. He never rushed; he would not rest until he was satisfied that Holly’s every muscle was given the best chance for a full recovery. It had become the most exquisite torment. The only thing she considered worse than the touching was the stopping of it. He was the meanest drill sergeant Holly had ever met. She endured this agony three times a week and tried like hell not to arrive too early.
She was becoming more and more dependent on his company, no matter how much she fought the touch, an uncomfortable feeling at best. Sitting at that restaurant table tonight, the odd man out at a mini-convention of genetic miracles, was more than she’d bargained for.
Feeling too wound up to sleep, Holly got out of bed and retrieved her laptop. As she got back in bed and powered it up, she tried to remember the last time she’d even turned it on. It had to have been over a week. She was trying to rein in her habit of playing Café World on Facebook. Holly had joined the popular networking site when one of her Canadian friends from work e-mailed her that it was a great
way to keep in touch. When Holly stumbled across the virtual restaurant she could create and man, it nearly became an obsession. All the delicious food she could prepare and serve to imaginary patrons held so much appeal. She spent days setting up her perfect little café with just the right ambiance. When she almost missed her gynecologist appointment because she was waiting for her onion soup to finish, she knew she had a borderline problem. She did enjoy keeping up with all her friends back in Toronto though. Maybe she’d spend some time writing a few e-mails. It would be a refreshing change of pace to be able to report some good news. She could tell Tina she had dinner with Chase Walker, with the added benefit of Tina’s being unable to overwhelm her with a thousand questions all at once.
Just one peek at the café first. Maybe set up a dish on her stoves that would take several days to cook.
Holly was totally unprepared for what popped up when she logged in to her Facebook account.
She had a friend request. It was from Logan Montgomery. Her gasp was audible.
She was shocked. Why had he even bothered to look her up?
“He probably adds all his clients,” Holly said, rationalizing out loud. Still, she hesitated to confirm his invitation. The opportunity to get another glimpse into Logan’s personal life was appealing yet dangerous. He was already consuming way too much of her gray matter when she was alone.
Holly clicked on CONFIRM and then went straight to his page.
She was greeted by the familiar smiling face in his profile picture, taken at some sort of party or nightclub. He was wearing a navy blue suit, a look she had never seen on him before. She hungrily stared at it, not having to worry that he would catch her marveling at his chiseled perfection. His toffee eyes were so warm they could melt a girl if he kept them on her too long. His dazzling smile was a testament to his never-ending enthusiasm, beckoning for her to join him in it. She already knew she would never build up an adequate immunity to his dimples.
The statuses he posted were all upbeat and encouraging, full of self-improvement tips and Zen-like sayings. There was no self-absorbed bragging or blowing of his own horn. None of that was necessary. His wall was teeming with posts from hundreds of “friends” who obviously held him in the highest regard. Athletes expressed gratitude to him for various issues he’d helped see them through; charity leaders thanked him for either time or money donated. Women gushed about how great it was to see him, nearly begging him to “get together again.” Each and every post was politely answered by him, graciously confirming that it was his pleasure to be a part of something so worthwhile. That he was glad he could help. That he had a wonderful time as well. That he looked forward to seeing so-and-so again, without ever actually committing to when that would be. She went into his information section and an inadvertent sigh of relief escaped her when it made no mention of any significant relationship status. His religion was “spiritual.” His politics were “liberal leaning toward Democrat.” He liked popular music and action movies, with a few comedies thrown in. He didn’t watch much television. He was well-read, with his favorite books either classics or self-help. She couldn’t contain her glee at the discovery that one of his favorite books was Brave New World. Jesus, it could have been written about him, with its World State of Alphas and eternal peacefulness and everyone happy. Of course, the similarity ended with the use of soma, as Logan held a clear disdain for any mind-altering drugs in general. Even Holly knew that. Suddenly, it felt like he was in the room with her. Logan Montgomery had successfully entered her bedroom, without even setting foot in it.
With shaking hands, she opened his photo albums and was immediately thankful she was sitting down. With one click of her mouse, she was launched into a plethora of masculine excellence. All stages of Logan were represented. The at-work Logan, as she knew him best. The social Logan, at parties and holidays and sporting events, dressed both casually and in black tie. Lots of the photos had him standing beside celebrities and professional athletes. Holly felt a pang of stalker’s guilt when she opened an album of him on vacation in Fiji.
“Holy moly.” She exhaled loudly. “That’s what’s hiding under his clothes?!”
She shamelessly ogled pictures of him on the beach wearing nothing more than a pair of board shorts. For the first and probably only time in her life, she wished a man was wearing a Speedo. She had little doubt Logan would be able to pull off a banana hammock with ease. He was bronze and glistening and defined, with an expansive, smooth chest and clear-cut abs that fed into what Holly just knew was a perfect package. In fact, the way his obliques separated at his hips, it was practically an advertisement leading her to make the assumption. At least that was what Holly told herself to assuage her vulgar musings. Holly’s staring began to resemble a game—trying to find one single flaw. Maybe some scar from a booster shot gone bad, some hideous mole with hair growing out of it, a crooked toe, anything to bring him down to her level. There was nothing. She would have to be content believing he had a hairy ass or a testicle that hadn’t dropped.
Chase and Amanda were in some of the photos of Fiji as well. Chase looked equally impressive, a few inches taller than Logan and beefier. Amanda, while not exactly thin and covered up a bit more in a one-piece bathing suit with matching sarong, still managed to look like she’d stepped out of Vogue. Her long black locks, haphazardly pulled back, only enhanced her heart-shaped face and cobalt eyes.
And then there was the woman.
Holly felt her throat tighten.
She was stunning. Tan, tiny bikini, not an ounce of fat on her, a mane of flaxen flowing hair, round baby-blue eyes. She was Logan’s ideal counterpart. They were sitting poolside at a swim-up bar, sharing one of those tropical drinks, the kind that arrives in a giant glass and uses two straws. They looked so perfect together, all smiles and dimples, like they could have been taking the picture for a Sandals beach resort brochure. Holly couldn’t even recall the last time she bought a bathing suit. There were pictures of them dressed up at a fancy restaurant, the blond woman’s tiny white sequined dress leaving little to the imagination, except maybe how many miles her legs went on for. Logan’s unforgettable, tuxedoed handsomeness would encourage any woman’s imagination to run wild.
Holly leaned back against her pillows, frowning. Penguin suits were for weddings and awards shows. Who wears a tuxedo to dinner on vacation? People like Logan Montgomery do. It probably wasn’t even a rental, but tailored to meet his numerous fancy-schmancy needs. But even that wasn’t the worst part; she came to the stark realization after she left that photo album and continued to look at his other pictures. There were other women as well, much to her disappointment. Not many, but all with several striking similarities. First, there was enough blond hair represented in the photos to make Holly want to consider a stock purchase in peroxide. But even more unsettling was that all of these blondes were tall and thin and busty. Worse yet, they were as unblemished as Logan was. Except for the would-be supermodel who appeared to have some sort of zit on her chin that her makeup just wasn’t covering enough. Probably had PMS and was back to being perfect in a week. Some of the women Holly vaguely remembered seeing somewhere before.
Holly felt her teeth tearing into her lower lip and then chastised herself. It wasn’t fair to be comparing herself to any of these women; no one had asked her to. Not one of her companions tonight had made her feel inferior, especially her friend Logan. The man who always stayed positive, unruffled, who told her she could do anything in a way that made her believe it, that made her feel alive.
Unfortunately, he was also the man who had begun to invade her dreams. And no matter how many times he came running to her in the middle of the night for a hug and a pint of ice cream, he was the man who would never be returning her desire. They were friends. It would have to be enough. Holly swallowed the lump in her throat and closed the lid to her computer. She readjusted the pillows and crawled back under the covers. She tried to close her eyes.
Someone to hate? Talk about your
all-time backfires.
Chapter Ten
Two days later, Chase showed up at Logan’s to train. Amanda was conspicuously absent.
Chase rolled his eyes, mentioned something about a coffee date, and dove right into his workout. Logan didn’t push it, but he had a pretty good idea of who could pull Amanda away from her adoring husband. Logan sighed inwardly. Amanda was on a mission. As he spotted for Chase, Logan silently applauded the man. Next time you have her across your knees, give her one for me, he wordlessly requested.
Amanda and Holly were sitting outside at a small wrought-iron table. Without her husband, Amanda received a few passing glances as other people tried unsuccessfully to place her, but their coffee date remained uninterrupted. There was a genuine sincerity to Holly that Amanda was not only comfortable with but drawn to. Holly had a dry wit that made Amanda laugh out loud, and Holly certainly couldn’t be accused of trying too hard. In fact, to Amanda, it would appear Holly wasn’t trying at all.
But it didn’t take Holly long to get caught up in the excitement that surrounded Amanda in everything she did. It seemed Amanda had the perfect life and was smart enough to appreciate it. And she wasn’t skin and bones. Amanda’s figure was one step past robust. While it couldn’t be denied that she was beautiful, there was a natural grace that came from the total acceptance she had of herself. Holly wondered if it was something Amanda always had or if it was a recent development. Chase Walker sweeping you off your feet would be enough to give any woman confidence, for sure, but didn’t you need confidence in the first place to attract a man like Chase Walker? It was like the self-esteem version of the question “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
Holly and Amanda had met at a local Starbucks and talked awhile, about everything from Bruce to Chase and the leaked video that revealed the Walkers as spanking enthusiasts. Holly had seen the tape, but only a few days earlier, when she followed a link to YouTube and without any fanfare became a voyeur looking into a couple’s personal life. It wasn’t just a pat or two, but more than a dozen meaningful swats to Amanda’s upturned denim-clad backside. It started with their walking into view, Amanda purposefully nudging him with her shoulder as they strode. Chase lurched forward exaggeratedly, as if she had launched him with the strength of an Amazon, and he turned back to her, wagging a playful finger in her direction. Amanda returned the gesture by grabbing the offending finger in one hand and poking him in the chest with the other while laughing. Chase took a quick look around and in the next instant, he grabbed her. Bending her at the waist and pulling her neatly to his side, he suspended her several inches in the air and effectively rendered his sentence. Without any sound and with Amanda’s feet swaying, it could have been interpreted as an assault. Until he returned her to the ground and she stood back up. The only thing violent after that was the way she grabbed the lapels of his jacket to yank him to her as he leaned her up against the wall in the empty but brightly lit underground tunnel. There was nothing even remotely resembling violence in the way Chase automatically placed his hand between Amanda’s head and the concrete wall to protect her before the force of his kiss jolted them both. The minute-and-forty-five-second-long tape concluded with Chase’s abruptly drawing away, grabbing her hand, and taking one of those big meaningful steps toward the nearest exit. He was stopped by a gentle pull in the opposing direction as Amanda rose on her tiptoes to bring her lips to his again. He kissed her one more time and they practically ran out of camera view. It was innocent and honest and heart-meltingly sincere. Holly watched it multiple times, spellbound, and feeling guilty for wishing she could have heard the dialogue. In the end she was convinced it couldn’t have been filmed better for a movie. All the elements were there. Chase: the dashing, larger-than-life would-be hero. So comfortable in his own skin, confident in taking charge, but immediately yielding to her subtlest of urges. Amanda: the beautiful damsel who obviously reveled in Chase’s attention and boldly maneuvered the situation to escalate it to its ultimate ending. There was indisputable adoration evident on both of their faces as they went from playful to passionate. The emotions displayed during the whole exchange were palpable. All caught on tape by a nondescript, tiny black ball on the wall next to a sprinkler. It was distributed by a creep working the night shift who wanted to make a little quick cash. Even the quality and lighting and angles were perfect. It was as if it was meant to be.
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