Page 107 of Naughty Nelle

The letter shook in my hands as tears swelled in my eyes. How could this be happening? She was doing so well. Making progress. What was I going to do? There was no way I could afford her exorbitant experimental treatments with my meager wages. We had already tried all the treatments approved by her insurance company, but they did nothing to arrest the growth of her cancer. Finding another company that could help defray the cost of the new treatments could take months—with each passing day bringing my beloved mother closer to the end. The tears multiplied, giving way to sobs. All hope was ebbing from my pores. I couldn’t even think straight.

I needed to get clarity. With tears streaming down my face, I fled to my bedroom. I flung off my bathrobe and laced up my running shoes.

Jogging around the Central Park reservoir always energized me. The majestic apartment buildings along Central Park West and the soaring architectural wonders along the East Side never ceased to amaze me. And the reservoir itself was a little miracle in this big city of sidewalks and skyscrapers.

The dirt track around the reservoir stretched just a little over one and a half miles. I was now on my third lap. I was well into my run, my heart pounding at an even rate, my legs propelling me forward almost effortlessly. It was probably already in the low eighties, and under the bright morning sun, sweat poured from every crevice of my body.

Clarity came to me. I would just have to work harder. Overtime for my demanding boss, Catherine. Or take on a second job like being a barista at Starbucks or a waitress at some neighborhood restaurant. And I could work weekends too. Somehow, I’d figure out how to pay for my mother’s treatments.

As I got off at the Ninetieth Street entrance, another brilliant idea came to me. I’d sell Ari’s little black dress, which I couldn’t bring myself to shred, to an upscale resale shop. That should fetch me a nice bundle of money, especially since it was practically brand new. Too bad I no longer had the shoes. They were probably worth a small fortune.

Slightly cheered up, I ran home through the park. The park was in its spring glory, with its multitude of verdant shrubs, colorful flowers, and blossoming trees lining the winding path that led to Fifty-Seventh Street, where I would exit. It was filled with New Yorkers of all ages, taking advantage of the beautiful day after a long, cold winter. Cyclists, joggers, strollers, rollerbladers, nannies pushing elegant prams, and even a few equestrians. The run took my mind off my mom…and Trainman. The temperature was rising and so was my heat level. My thin, cotton tank top clung to my body, and my running shorts were soaked. I was looking forward to a cold shower.

Stopping for a moment, I bent down to re-tie a loose shoelace.

“Watch out!” screamed a voice ahead of me.

I looked up and coming downhill toward me at hell-bent speed was a bearded man on a racing bike.

Before I could blink an eye, two strong arms scooped me up.

“Saarah.”

My name. That voice. It was him!

My brown eyes gazed up and met his sparkling sapphire ones. His sensuous lips stretched into a saucy grin. His golden hair, more carefree and tousled than yesterday, glistened in the sun. Embarrassment washed over me like a sudden downpour. Here I was all hot and sweaty in his bare, sculpted arms. In fact, I was melting at the sight of him. Don’t let him do this to you.

“You can put me down. I’m perfectly capable of managing on my own two legs.”

He gently set me down and sighed. “Princess, you really must be more careful.”

He’d come to my rescue once again. I hung my head in shame, my eyes roaming down his sinfully perfect body. He was dressed in all white. White tennis shorts, one of those expensive cotton polo shirts with the alligator on the pocket, and white tennis shoes. His long legs were lean, tan, and muscular, laced with a layer of gold threads.

“So you’re a runner,” he said, eyeing me from head to toe.

I was also a hot, sweaty, disheveled mess.

“Yeah,” I said daring to lift my head. Oh God, was he gorgeous! Heart-stoppingly gorgeous. My heated-up body was close to igniting.

“You have great legs.”

I humbly shrugged my shoulders. “Thanks.”

The truth was, my legs were my best feature. Like his…long, lean, and toned from having been a tomboy my whole life. I was especially proud of the ripple that ran down the side of my thighs, almost to my knees, thanks to running.

“I see you’re not wearing a bra.” A devilish expression accompanied his words.

I glanced down at my chest. Shit! In my haste to get of out of my apartment, I had forgotten to put on my sports bra, the only kind of bra I wore. My pert nipples popped through the thin, soaked layer of my cotton tank top. Mortification raced through me.

“What else aren’t you wearing?” he asked, his eyes gazing at my crotch as if they had x-ray vision.

“My running shorts have attached panties,” I smirked back at him.

Flipping up the edge of one side of the shorts to prove it to him, I could feel my crotch getting hotter and wetter. Oh God, this man was turning me on. I had the burning desire to tear off his clothes and mine and fuck him right here, right now in the park. Why was I still talking to this womanizer? And lusting for him? Shame on me. He was bad news.

He shot me that breathtaking smile. “We should run sometime together.”

“I don’t think you could keep up with me.”

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