Page 35 of What About Love

She groaned, not liking the sound of that. After she stepped into her dress, she shimmied it up her body beneath the cover of the blanket. Once she slipped her arms through the tiny straps and fit them over her shoulders, she let the cover fall to her feet. He stood to escort her out, but she spun and looked up at him with a plea.

“You’ve seen the girls in all their glory now, sir.”

A quick grin followed his look of surprise as his eyes dipped to her chest. “I have, Angie, and I thank you for that.”

She lifted beleaguered eyes toward the ceiling as he chuckled. “My point is they are not compatible with running. Seriously, T.”

“Darlin’, your belly is flat and your thighs are sleek. Although you have curves in all the right places, your body does not scream couch potato. How do you stay fit?”

Caught off guard by his flattering inventory, she stammered a bit while warmth coiled in her belly. “Um...I, uh, swim four days a week at the gym.”

“You in a wet swimsuit? I’m in.” His eyes sparkled with an eager light as he draped an arm around her neck and guided her to the doors leading back to the lounge.

“It won’t be a bikini, T.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’mallin.”

Quick as that, desire resurged creating a flutter low in her belly. Falling into an easy rapport with him, she’d clearly forgotten where his hands had been thirty minutes ago. For all her avowals that it was only a job, she knew her heart was doomed.

Chapter 8

BRIGHT AND EARLY THEnext morning, Angie grabbed her towel out of her locker and after slamming it shut, spun the combination lock twice. As she moved down the aisle dreaming of another cup of coffee, her flip-flops slapped against her heels with a loudthwapon every step, reminiscent of a flogger.

“Don’t start again,” she muttered under her breath.

Sluggish from a restless night, she’d probably need an entire pot of caffeine to feel human again. When she dozed off sometime around four o’clock, dreams of T strapping her to a cross and making her scream with ecstasy mingled with the haunting scene at her front door, when he’d planted a brotherly kiss on her forehead. That was the image, as if unaffected by what he’d done to her, that made her lashes flutter open less than two hours later. Until her alarm went off, she lay there, staring at the dark shadows on her bedroom ceiling, her mind whirling in confusion.

She heaved a heavy sigh. In the course of a day, he’d gone from cool and aloof to pissed off and sweetly attentive. Together they’d moved from co-workers to teacher and student, both at Rossi and at the club, then to lovers. Well, sort of lovers. What did you call a man who’d had his hands all over you, his fingers deep inside you then in the end wanted to be best buds?

“Did you really expect one night with a newb would change his convictions?” she muttered to herself. “Or that he’d prostrate himself at your feet having fallen madly in love with you? Sheesh! What an ego.”

At the end of the row of lockers, she paused in front of the full-length mirror. Her utilitarian one-piece swimsuit wouldn’t attract a second look from anyone. Mostly black, the boring, high-necked tank-style suit was something her fifty-two-year-old mother would wear. The only detail was an unexciting white racing stripe up each side. In a word, it was forgettable.

She had a sexy bandeau bikini at home in eye-catching fuchsia, the mesh overlay covering as much as it revealed, including a great deal of cleavage, but she couldn’t very well swim laps in a strapless bikini top without both boobs popping out. It was adult swim hour at the fitness center, but she was sure that wasn’t what they had in mind.

As she stared at her reflection, she asked herself why it mattered.

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