by Lula Woods
“I can definitely adjust my schedule to whatever works for you.”
She tugged on her ponytail. “Thank you. Um, follow me to my office? I want to give you a business card and a copy of a small write-up that was done when this store first opened.”
“Sure.”
I followed her, keeping my distance though I was tempted to bump into her a couple of times, just because. Her office was small but neat, and there were pictures on the walls of people who were likely family, and then a few with herself and two other women. All three of them grinned in front of a camera. “You have family here?”
“No,” she replied as she checked file folders on her desk until she found a newspaper clipping, which she handed to me. “Most of them live in another state, and I have others in another country. We’re really spread out.” She dug through her bag and found a business card, which she held out. “You can text or email me. I’m almost always available, unless I’m sleeping, and I don’t typically sleep more than six hours a night, anyway.”
“I don’t know how you do that,” I replied, placing her card in my wallet. “I would be toast without at least eight hours of sleep.”
“Eight hours is too long for me.” She moved away from the desk, and I followed her back out of the office.
“I’ll get you some proposed dates and times, okay?”
“Fine by me.” She smiled and held out her hand to shake mine, where we stood next to the men’s changing room. “This is very kind of you, Saul.”
“I think what you’re doing here is innovative and should have as much promotion and exposure as possible.” I held her hand a little bit longer, then slowly let it go. She looked at me then, her mouth slightly open. Her lips were kissable, but we were in public, and I didn’t want to scare her away. “I’m gonna shower now and head home. You have a good night, Danita.” I took the risk and kissed her cheek. “Get some rest, okay?”
With that, I entered the changing room and dug out my toiletries to get cleaned up. I felt eyes on me, so I looked over my shoulder to see Danita staring at me, her hand on the cheek I had kissed. I dared a wink and headed to the shower. Things were looking up, at last.
Chapter Three
Danita
“You did not,” my friend Roxanne said as we all ate the lasagna I had made for our “girlfriend get-togethers,” as I called them. I loved to cook, and it was my favorite thing, next to fitness and exercise.
“Of course, she did,” my other friend Gabi replied after sipping from her glass of red wine. “Wouldn’t you have done something similar if something spectacular was being offered to you?”
“Probably,” Roxanne replied, “since I practically mauled Mason when I first met him.” Mason was her live-in boyfriend. “But this is Danita. Danita, who rarely gives a man the time of day, let alone a hug.”
“Hey, I give guys plenty,” I retorted, finishing up the salad on my plate.
“Right,” Roxanne said as she rolled her eyes. “When was the last time you did that?”
“Eh.” She had a point. My work schedule was ridiculous.
“So, you hugged your crush, and now you’re going to have ‘meetings’ with him in his ‘office.’ Is that code for anything?” Roxanne asked with a grin.
I pointed my fork at her. “Behave. He doesn’t seem to be that kind of guy. And for once, I wasn’t tongue-tied in front of the man, once he got me talking about the franchise.”
“Let’s not forget the shorts or the tank top. It’s hard to resist such perfection when it’s right there in front of you, hot and sweaty,” Gabriella said as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Take my neighbor, for example. I hate getting up early, as you both know from college. But all it takes is the knowledge that those long, firm legs and tight ass will be in front of me as I run, and I’m out the door in five minutes flat, sleeping in be damned.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough in front of that man to last a lifetime.”
“And we’re both still cackling about how you walked into a wall. Priceless,” Gabriella snickered, and I kicked her shin.
“I’m attracted to the guy, but I’ve been attracted to men before, though it’s been a while. I just don’t understand why I have such a strong reaction to him. It happens every single time. It’s disconcerting,” I said.
“Look, why don’t you just ask the guy out?” Roxanne asked. “From the things you’ve said, and that kiss he gave you on the cheek, he would definitely be interested, I think.”
“I don’t know. He makes me feel off-kilter, and I hate that feeling,” I said.
“You know, he may be having the same issues, too,” Gabriella said. “Maybe use some of the time you’re with him, in that nice, likely very cozy office, to get to know him better, maybe see a bit beyond the instant lust you have going on. Can’t hurt, right?”
“It may just make things worse,” I replied, tugging on my earlobe.
“Come on, Dani,” Roxanne said, “you know you need a challenge. That’s always been the way with you. Think of your meetings with Saul as a way to build trust. If things go south, it won’t be because no one tried.”
“Perhaps,” I murmured. We discussed the situation a bit more, and while Dani and Gabi worked on the dishes, I went into the living room to find a movie for us to watch while having ice cream, as was our ritual. As I cued up the movie, my cellphone buzzed. Frowning, I looked at the screen.
I had received a text from an unknown number. When I opened it and read the message, I immediately added the number to my contacts, since it was from Saul. In the text, he asked if Monday at three-thirty in the afternoon would work to meet at his office. I replied that yes, it was fine, and would he please send me the address of his office. Once received, I thanked him and wished him a lovely evening.
I had just set the phone aside when my besties came into the living room carrying bowls of chocolate heaven. “Anything interesting on your phone just now?” Gabi asked as she sat on my left side on the couch. Roxanne took the right.
I finished a spoonful of ice cream before answering. “Yes. I’m meeting with Saul on Monday afternoon to discuss the article and possible strategies.”
“Ooh, that’s perfect!” Gabi practically squealed. “You need to wear something to knock him on his ass, almost literally. Hmm.”
“The dark blue sleeveless dress would be perfect,” Roxanne added.
“People, this is an opportunity to introduce my fitness concept to a wider audience. I don’t need to play dress-up.”
“Done deal. Date it is,” Gabi said, ignoring everything I’d said.
“Wait, maybe she should wear the red wrap top, and that black flared skirt, you know the one?” Roxanne said. “Ooh! With the red and black strappy heels!”
“Guys, I...” But they weren’t listening since they were now bickering over my attire for my meeting with Saul. I shook my head and started the movie. I would probably ignore their suggestions and just go casual in jeans and a T-shirt, but maybe sprucing up just a little wasn’t such a bad thing.
****
I ended up wearing one of my favorite pairs of blue jeans with the red wrap top that Roxanne had suggested. I didn’t bother with the heels, though, since my feet hurt from running around all day. Black strappy sandals completed the look. I left my hair loose, something I didn’t often do, added lip gloss, and I was ready.
After driving for fifteen minutes, I arrived at Saul’s building. The publishing company for which he worked took up the whole floor, and when I spoke with the receptionist at the front, she told me Saul’s office was at the end of the hall on the left.
It was interesting, seeing the open floor plan and hearing snatches of conversation as I passed. I definitely could not work in an environment like this. Sitting behind a desk all day would make me a little crazy. I barely tolerated my own office, as it was. I finally reached Saul’s office, according to the nameplate on the wall next to the door.
I knocked and heard a male voice say, “Enter.” I opened the door and stepped into the office. There he was, in a dark-blue shirt and paisley-patterned tie, typing away at a computer. For some reason, he seemed even larger in business attire. It made me want to rumple him a little bit, he was so pristine.
He looked up and smiled at me briefly before focusing again on his monitor. “Danita, hi. Sorry, let me finish typing this email, and I’m all yours. Have a seat, please.”
“Thank you.”
I sat in the leather chair in front of his desk and looked out the window behind him. The view included nearby buildings, but the mountains were beyond.
“Okay,” he said after a minute. “Again, my apologies. I had to send an email to a sponsor who needs delicate handling.”
I smiled. “I understand.”
I watched as his eyes took in my attire and dipped to my breasts before looking away. He cleared his throat and dug through his piles of paperwork, sending a few folders sliding to the floor. And now, he was blushing. Huh. Maybe my friends were right that he, too, was attracted and wasn’t sure what to do about it. He did seem quite flustered.
“So,” he finally said after fixing his stacks of paper and adjusting his tie. “This was my idea for the article. We cover some background into why Fit for You came into being. Readers will want to know about you, what drove you to start the gym in the first place. Make it personal. Then, we can talk about your goals and aspirations for the business, do a video interview to be paired with the online version of the article, and a photoshoot of the gym and you. Thoughts?”
While he had been talking, I’d been half-listening to what he said, but focused on his lips and how kissable they were. “Danita?” he asked, and I realized I hadn’t answered him.
“Sorry. Yes, those are great ideas.” I licked my lips and caught the way his nose flared, and how hard he was trying to keep his eyes above my chest. I cut to the chase. “Are you attracted to me, Saul?”
He gave me an alarmed look before slumping in his chair and briefly closing his eyes before focusing on me again. “Am I that obvious?” he asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well, yes and no, but I’m probably not much better,” I admitted.
“No, no,” he said as he leaned forward in earnest. “I’ve been trying to be as professional as possible around you, but it’s difficult because, yes, I’m attracted to you, and I seem to always fluster you when I’m around and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I’ve done that.”
“You haven’t. I just, I can’t seem to help myself when I’m around you, and it’s just pitiful.”
Saul grinned. “How about we be pitiful together after we finish discussing the article?”
I studied him before asking, “You’re sure?”
“Believe me, Danita, I’m sure.” He added, “Maybe dinner after this? We can talk more, see where it leads us.”
“Sounds good.”
With that, he launched into more detail about his ideas for the article, and I contributed to the conversation, while in the back of my mind, I was doing a Danita happy dance.
Chapter Four
Saul
I was happy things had turned out well in my meeting with Danita this afternoon because it could have gone south really fast. Seeing her in that red blouse that just emphasized her curves had made it hard to keep my eyes off her, and I hadn’t succeeded that well, obviously. Still, I no longer had to worry about what to say to Danita because she had done it herself, and now, we were going to have dinner together.
I followed her as she drove us to her favorite place for dinner. It took about twenty minutes, and when we pulled into an apartment building parking lot, I found a parking spot in the visitor’s section. I walked over to where she stood by the front door to the lobby, waiting.
“Do you need to stop and get something?” I asked, somewhat confused as I entered the lobby.
“No. Dinner is at my apartment. I rarely eat out because I like to cook. I think we can have a nice meal together without worrying about servers and crowds.” She glanced at me as we waited by the elevator. “That okay?” Being in close quarters with Danita Miller was probably not a good idea if I wanted to keep my hands off her, but I was a sucker for punishment, apparently. So, it was definitely okay.
“No problems here.” We exited the elevator on her floor, and she led the way down the hall and let us into her apartment. I hung my suit jacket and tie where she indicated and left my shoes at the door.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.” I nodded and went into the kitchen since that was where she would return. “Anything you don’t like to eat?” she asked as she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, now barefoot.
I leaned against the sink. “No. I’m open to just about anything, really.”
“What would you like to drink? Wine, beer, water?”
“Water, for now, please,” I replied. “Maybe a beer later.”
She gestured to the refrigerator. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” I grabbed a bottle of water, and after a sip, I asked, “Anything I can help you with? I’m pretty handy in the kitchen. Both my parents were chefs, so I learned how to use a knife before I was teething.”
Danita laughed as she cut thin strips of beef. “That’s quite a feat, Saul.” Oh, she was gorgeous when she smiled. I needed to see her do that more often.
I grinned. “So they tell me. Seriously, though, I can help. As delightful as it is to watch your hips wiggle as you move back and forth in front of me,”—she glanced at me with a raised eyebrow—"I would like to be useful.”
“Okay, Mr. Chef-in-training, I need to you finely chop two green onions from the refrigerator—bottom left drawer—mince two cloves of garlic and grate some ginger, please.”
“On it.” She told me where to find a cutting board and knife, and I got to work. “Is this a version of a Korean beef recipe, by chance?”
She looked at me with a pleasing surprise. “It is! Have you made this, too?”
I thought for a few seconds. “Maybe six months ago? I think the sauce was too thin, though.”
“Yeah, it can be tricky,” she replied. “I usually add more cornstarch for thickness.”
“That would do it. I will definitely try that next time.”
We worked in companionable silence for the next fifteen minutes or so until all the ingredients were prepared. It was intimate, and I felt a closeness to her that would have been lacking in a restaurant setting. She had been right about that. I added my ingredients to the rather large skillet on the stove and washed my hands at the sink while she stirred the pot with rice on another burner. “God, that smells good already,” I offered as I sat at the table again and finished the rest of my water bottle.
“I know,” Danita replied as she poured herself a glass of red wine and sat across from me. “It’s a favorite of my girlfriends, though they never seem to complain about whatever I prepare, so…” She shrugged and sipped her wine.
I got up briefly to grab a beer. It was a twist-off. “Is cooking a thing in your family, too?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair. Her toes brushed my ankles but she quickly moved her feet away. Pity.
“My dad was the cook in my household. Mom burned water. It was funny that I, out of all five of my siblings, was the only one who inherited his ability and interest in cooking. He died five years ago, and now, cooking is a memory of him and our times together in the kitchen, figuring out recipes and spices, you know?”
I nodded. “It was like that with my grandmother and me, though my parents were plenty active with my culinary education. Grandma made sure I could recognize even the most obscure vegetables, and she often said that cooking was more than just a fancy-looking plate of food presented with a bow. It was an act of love.”
“I like that,” Danita said. “Tell me why you became an editor.”
“I’ve always loved what words can express, how we can motivate, inspir
e, and instigate while rearranging the letters of the alphabet to suit our purposes. I want to help people tell their stories and do it in the best voice for them.”
“When you’re not working, what do you like to read?”
“Pretty much anything, though I have a soft spot for cooking-related books, biographies, and a good mystery.”
“What about weightlifting? How did that come about?”
I drank half my beer before answering, “I wanted to be healthier and fit, and I thought this would be the way to do it. I started weight training for strength and definition, but then I realized I liked it a lot. I don’t want to be Mr. Universe or anything, but I want to see what I can do.”
“Well, you seem to be doing really well,” she replied and tugged on her earlobe before finishing her wine.
I smiled. “Do you realize you pull on your earlobe whenever you’re nervous?”
“I do not,” she quickly retorted.
“Sorry, but you do, and it’s whenever I’m in the vicinity, it would seem. Am I still making you nervous? I hope not.”
She sighed. “No. I’m just trying to control my urges around you.” She glared at me. “You don’t make it easy, you know? Walking around the gym with a flimsy muscle shirt and shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Do you have any idea what that does to my brain?”
“I’m beginning to get the picture.” I winked at her. “Forgive me?”
“You don’t mean it, so no.” She stuck her tongue out at me and smiled.
“Well, to be fair, I have the same issue with you. I have to wear a cup whenever I’m at the gym because the sight of you in spandex or on a dance pole just reduces my brain to dust. I’ve dated women, sure. But having a meeting of the minds is difficult, and things have become even more challenging after I started bodybuilding. I’ve wanted to get to know you up close and personal since I started working out at your gym. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, but more than that, you’re a smart, savvy businesswoman with an inclusive vision who I really want to get to know better.”