Page 4 of Fit for Love

I check my calendar.Today is a very light day.All I have left is a sparring session with my friend Marcus.

Good.This gives me a chance to browse the app store for a better way to help my clients when I’m not training them in person.What I’m looking for is an app that would let me track their progress while they’re working out alone, and that would also have video capability—both for playing pre-recorded videos and for interactive sessions.Ideally, it should incorporate my meal plans, my sleep and hydration recommendations, as well as?—

Someone places a hand on my shoulder.In an eyeblink, I’m on my feet, about to break the arm of the person who startled me.

“Jesus, chill,” Gerald says.

Shit.I almost assaulted the owner of Essence and the person who’s helped me greatly with my career.

“Sorry about that.”I let go of his wrist and step back.“I tend to get jumpy when someone sneaks up on me.”

No idea why that is, either.I think I was maybe born in the wrong place and time.With my violent reflexes, I would’ve made a great gladiator in Ancient Rome.Or a barbarian.

“No, I’m sorry,” he says with a smirk.“I’ll wear a bell next time.”

“How can I help?”I smile broadly—a trick I use to put people at ease, especially after almost assaulting them.

Gerald smiles back.“I need a big favor.”

“Sure.With what?”

Whatever it is, I doubt I can refuse.This gym has some unique equipment that I’d like to continue to have access to.

“Ash called in sick,” Gerald says.

Wait a second.“Ash?”

“Asher,” he says.“Don’t worry.There’s no other Ashton here.”

“Which one is he?The short one?”

He sighs.“He’s about your height.His distinguishing feature is that he’s the least competent trainer here, so you covering for him will be a big upgrade for his clients.”

“Hey, I was going to help you even without smoke up my ass,” I say.“But with it, I’ll even allow his clients to call me Ash—and you know how much I hate shortening my name.”

“So far it’saclient,” he says.“Singular.”

“Ah.Okay.Where is he?”

He gestures toward the cardio machines by the entrance.“Sheis on the third treadmill on the right.Brown hair.Pretty.Her name is Kendall.”

Pretty?Another one?I’ve recently decided that I prefer to work with less attractive female clients because that makes it easier to follow my self-imposed “no sleeping with clients” rule.

Oh, well.

“All right,” I say.“I’ve got it from here.”

“Thanks.”

He leaves, and I head toward Kendall.

And… fuck me.Thanks to the mirrors all over the place, the closer I get, the better I can see her from the front and back—and I realize that Gerald calling this woman “pretty” was an understatement of sperm whale proportions.

She is not merely pretty.

She is beautiful.

No.Gorgeous.With her long, sleek dark hair sweeping from side to side, she looks like she’s running toward a shampoo commercial.The borrowed leggings and tank top worn by every other woman at this gym look both stylish and effortless on her.They hug her tight, perfect body in all the right places, and with the small beads of sweat glistening on her smooth skin, nothing can stop the X-rated images circling through my mind.

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