Page 24 of Match Point

“I think everything in moderation.”

“If you work extra hard, I might let you have one. Let’s start with your favorite, the lunge.”

Groaning, she raised her arms above her head. She’d removed her jacket after their ride and the sports top rode up, revealing the hollows of her spine and lower back that curved to her bottom. “I noticed you had problems with your form last time. Bring your back leg back as though you’re about to kneel on the ground, body centered.”

She wobbled and caught herself, stomach muscles clenching. Her belly button showed, the distinct lines of her oblique muscles visible. She had definition and tone, but she lacked cardio abilities. She needed to get her heart rate up and he searched his mind for the best possible achievement of that goal. One activity kept coming to mind.

“Your knee isn’t far enough over your foot.” Leo laid a hand on her lower back, his finger touching the underside of her chin, trying to ignore the suppleness of the flesh beneath his fingertips. He applied the slightest bit of pressure, until she straightened her back. “Form is key.”

She glanced up at him, lips compressed, breasts jutting out. “Is this good?”

“Yes, looks good. Now inhale and settle into the lunge.” A deep, cleansing breath was what he needed, something to fill his lungs and help him focus. He put himself into position next to her, careful to keep his eyes locked on the placement of her knee, anywhere but on her chest. “Exhale as you come out of the lunge.”

“Can you feel the burn?” He felt one, and it had nothing to do with the lunges.

“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Good. That’s a good sign. Once you master these without weights, I’ll start putting on the pounds.”

“Lovely,” she said, matching him move for move. “I have to admit it’s nice out here. Very peaceful.”

“I’ve found it to be. I grew up in the city and when I was brought here, I hated it.”

“I can imagine it was a culture shock,” she said.

He stood and she mimicked his stance as he changed legs. “That’s putting it mildly. Over the years, Grams has made improvements from the fund Howler set up. The entire property was rehabilitated, and the barns were added, along with a basketball court and a small gym. She fosters both boys and girls, but this round is mostly boys. The ones nobody wants.”

“Howler is a foster child too?”

“No, he’s Grams’ real grandson. We all grew up together, four boys and two girls. Belle, the receptionist at the agency, is one of them. Grams has a new group of kids in the house now. Two are set to graduate this year, the other three are young. You’ll be meeting them all. Grams insists on everybody having dinner with each other nightly.”

“My father had the same policy. No matter where we were, we met for every meal. Back then, I used to eat breakfast. Hot chocolate and pancakes with real butter and bacon.”

“You’re obsessed with bacon. As is half of the country I suppose. I have a friend who’s a chocolatier. He makes the best bacon-covered chocolate rolls. Not that you get to eat them.”

“And I thought this was cruel.” She straightened onto both feet and arched her back.

“I tell you what. If you win, I’ll buy you an entire box of them.”

“You mean when I win?” She cocked her head, challenge lighting her face that was flushed with healthy color.

“Yes, when you win.” Once she was where she needed to be, he’d have somebody else take over the day-to-day training, and he’d be free to go about his business. Doing what? He’d never considered life after this project. His job as assistant had been reassigned to someone else he was thrust into a position he hadn’t asked for. He’d have to have a conversation with Howler and figure out the end game. He hated loose ends and needed some concrete answers.

For now, he’d focus all his attention on Sorcha.

The athlete.

Not the woman.

Her problems were her own and he’d told her too much. Apart of him wanted to know more about her, and that part scared the hell out of him.

Chapter Eighteen

Sorcha let out a piercing screech, laughing from the pure exhilaration of the ride. She might have bitched about Leo’s unorthodox training, but on day two of her mountain bike workout, she was having a blast. The trip up the mountain sucked, but the trip down was exhilarating. She flew over a flat rock, sailing through the air a good five feet. A loud laugh escaped as the back tire landed in the mud. She braked the way he showed her, adrenaline pumping through her veins. If she could keep this up, she’d volunteer to work out every day. Leo would love that, not that she’d admit it to him. She wanted to keep him on his toes.

The sun showed through the branches, crisp wind whipping at her hair. She twisted on her seat and moved the bike off the trail. Leo ascended, a baseball cap shading his face. The black hoodie fitted to his broad shoulders. His momentum carried him several feet farther than where she’d landed because of his added weight. He slid to the side, his brakes catching, and the bike fishtailed. Instead of falling, he hopped the front tire, spinning the bike with impressive skill.

Holy hell, just when she wanted to stay unaffected, he had a way of drawing her in. Once he came to a complete stop, she started to clap. “That was kick-ass!”

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