Page 20 of The Liar's Reckoning

“Three clients at the gym. That’s it for today.”

“We should do something.”

“We should,” I agree. It’s Saturday.

“You want loud or quiet?” he asks.

“Let’s start off quiet, then we can decide whether to take it up a notch.”

“Sounds good. What time are you off?”

“I’ll be done by nine.”

“Meet back here?”

“Sure,” I say. “What are you working on?”

“The usual.” He closes his notebook and hides his words away. “And I need a distraction.”

I don’t know what the usual means for Christian. All I do know is it weighs heavily. He’s always looking to be distracted. Logistically, living with three other men can make distractionscomplicated, but with two of us working days and two working nights, sometimes the planets align. “Drew made it sound like he’s got work tonight.”

“Good,” Chris says.

If we both get lucky, Eric can take the couch. Although I’m not sure I really need to get laid. I’d take a grind on the dance floor maybe, but bringing someone home sounds like too much work. Chris on the other hand,shouldget laid. He’s getting that lifeless hue about him again, and I need him in top form for his birthday party. It’s the one thing we always celebrate together.

“I should head out,” I say, giving his thigh a squeeze. “See you tonight.”

“Don’t work out too hard. You know it takes me awhile to warm up.”

I laugh. “That’s what tequila’s for.”

My first client is Mia,the cute actress with puppy problems. I put her through a core workout, which she makes adorable by squeezing her eyes shut tight and singing while in various plank positions. It’s no wonder really why some people make it in this town and some don’t. Everything she does is charming as fuck. If I were straight, I wouldn’t stand a chance of not falling in love with her. Of course she captivates audiences. Our hours together are the fastest of my life.

And I am not expecting what happens when she darts off after our session.

“I think the universe might be trying to tell me something.”

From the mat in my private training area, I stare up at Senator-elect Graham Lawther in his tight, short-sleeved shirt and the exact same gray sweatpants I left him in this morning while I wonder if I’m being stalked.

“Before you assume this is anything but a coincidence, let me assure you, my wife’s Pilates studio is upstairs, and you’re the only trainer with availability.”

Both valid truths. There is a fancy Pilates studio upstairs, and I’m the newest trainer at the gym, so all my slots haven’t filled in with permanent clients. However—I do need to be scheduled in advance. This isn’t a walk-ins welcome situation.

“When did you find out it was me?” I ask.

“This morning when I called for an appointment.”

“And you didn’t think maybe it’s a bad idea?”

“Why?” he asks, pretending this is innocent.

I stare warily back at him, needing him to say more.

“I didn’t take the appointment at first,” he says, taking a step closer. “But after about an hour of thinking about it, I decided what the hell. Clearly there are stronger forces at work.”

“Like demons?”

“Or the devil leading me straight into temptation.”

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