Page 2 of Fit for Love

She pulls out a business card.Printed on it in neat letters is the word “Essence” and an address.“Go to this gym and ask for Ash,” she says.“Thank me tomorrow.”

Oh.A workout.That’s a great idea.With enough endorphins in my body, I may look less mopey after all.

“Thanks.”I pocket the card.

“No problem.”She hands me her credit card, and when I glance at it, I see which of the two queen names is hers.“The first session is on me.”

Does she realize she sounds like a drug dealer?“Thanks again, Catherine,” I say earnestly.“I really appreciate it.”

She waves that away.“I’m a good judge of character, and I think you’re perfect for this job.”

I feel like kissing her for saying that, but that’s inappropriate, right?Not to mention, if I do kiss her, she may invite me to that orgy, so I just thank her gushingly instead and commit her name to permanent memory.

Emma callsme right as I finish telling my cabbie where I’m headed.

“Hey, Ems,” I say.“How are things going?”

“The kittens are driving me insane,” she says without missing a beat.“Especially the biggest one.”

“That’s Mr.Cottonball, right?”

I’m more of a dog person myself—at least when I’m not mad at men—but the kittens mean so much to my bestie that it’s only polite to allow her to talk about them.

“Wrong,” she says, and I can tell she’s grinning without needing to see her.“The demon spawn’s name is Mr.Puffs.Cottonball is actually an angel, and so is Queen Elizabeth.”

Hmm.“If I were Cottonball, I’d be the one giving you shit for not bestowing me with any honorifics or titles.”

She laughs and launches into a long story about something the kittens did, followed by several more.After about ten minutes, she must realize that even a saint would be losing interest in the subject, so she asks how things are with me.Sighing in relief, I tell her about my latest failure in the dating market.

“That really sucks,” she says sympathetically.“After all the rotten luck you’ve had lately, you deserve a lucky break.”

“Nope.No more getting lucky for me,” I say firmly.“I’m done with men.”And having kissed our mutual friend Janie back in college, I—unfortunately—have zero desire to bat for the other team.

Emma snorts.“Yeah, right.How long is that going to last?A week?Or—gasp—a month?”

“Listen, my darling,” I say with an eyeroll.“Not all of us have an old lady’s libido.”

“Excuse me?”She huffs.“My libido is perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“Oh, yeah?When was the last time?—”

“Kendall?”she says theatrically and hisses like a cat.“Kendall, can you hear me?I think I’m losing connection.”She hisses again—though it might actually be one of her kittens this time.

“Seriously, Ems?”

Yep.She’s dead serious.The sneaky little bitch hangs up on me, which is just as well because the cab stops at my destination.

When I step into Essence,I realize it’s a social club for the uber rich that masquerades as a gym.Behind the front desk is a Warhol painting—a genuine one, I’m pretty sure—and in the far corner, I spot a celebrity heiress on an elliptical machine.

“Hello.”I slide Catherine’s card toward the supermodel-hot front desk woman.“I’m here to see Ash.”

She looks flustered for a second but recovers quickly.“You will find clothes in the locker room.”She gestures at the swanky entrance nearby.“Go and change, then warm up on that treadmill.”She points to a machine near the heiress.“I’ll have him find you there.”

I head to the locker room as instructed, not surprised in the slightest when it turns out that the place provides you with activewear by Versace.

As I change, I make a mental note to find out if Tierre has ever dabbled in gym clothes and to suggest it in case he hasn’t.

Exiting the locker room, I go to the treadmill in question and fiddle with the unfamiliar controls.

---