Page 55 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

He wore a tank top and basketball shorts. His body was angled slightly forward as if to offset the weight he was handling, and I was transfixed at the way his muscles strained as he pumped the dumbbell to his torso and back to his thigh.

Transfixed wasn’t the right word. I was gaping. Overtlystaringat him.

I’d caught a glimpse of his muscles back in his office when I’d walked in on him changing—but let’s just say he took extremely good care of himself. And my cheeks couldn’t keep it together.

Someone get me to the door—because I certainly wasn’t getting there on my own.

Duncan peered in my direction. Like an idiot, I managed to close my mouth—but I couldn’t get my feet to move. Or my limbs. Or the rest of my body, for that matter.

I was welded into place. Standing there like a fish with legs.

A ridiculous little smirk played on his mouth. He dipped his head and lowered the dumbbell to its place on the rack. I didn’t miss the impressive swell in his bicep and shoulder before he rose to his full height and faced me, planting a hand on his hip.

“Everything okay, Rosie?”

“Huh?” I managed to get my posture together, at least.

My head was over my feet. My teeth found middle ground, clicking together as I closed my jaw.

He rotated his torso as if needing the stretch and then righted himself, resting that hand back on his hip once more. “You going to join me, or are you going to stand there staring?”

The flames in my cheeks cranked toWizard of Ozlevels, the kind that simultaneously blasted with every word spoken.

Time to play it off.

I lifted my chin. “I would stare if there was something worth looking at.”

A wicked grin stole over his expression. Duncan swaggered toward me, disarming me. I was used to seeing him in suits and ties, not half-dressed with those strong arms and the defined shape of his torso in a skin-hugging tank top.

He stepped closer. Proximity wasn’t good. Every synapse in my body jolted as though I’d just overdosed on caffeine. My heart tripped over itself, and I took a step back toward the door.

In the direction I SHOULD be heading right this second.

“I was just headed outside for my morning run,” I said stupidly.

“Should be a good, safe place for a run if you stay around the lake. I saw Pat out there earlier.”

“She runs?”

“Walks,” he said. “Brisk, you know? She says walking helps her get her joints limber.”

He knew such a little detail about her? “How long has she worked for you?”

“Pat started with me when I first moved to Westville about ten years ago,” he said. “She’s been with me the longest. Nicole is her sister.”

“Really? I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah, they don’t look a lot alike, but they’re related.”

“And they like you, for some reason.”

His mouth did that little tweak again. “Yeah, I can’t imagine why.”

“Me, neither.” The words were lighthearted. I didn’t mean them at all.

The truth was, I could find a few likeable things about this man—especially out here, around his staff and away from the stress of our work environment and the rumors.

It made me wonder what things might have been like between us if we’d met under different circumstances. If we weren’t surrounded by people who were constantly gaping at us. If he didn’t feel whatever this need was to be a total jerk all the time.

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