Page 8 of My Curvy Rival

Her remark grates. “Excuse me?”

“I said?—”

“I heard what you said. I just take exception to it.”

“Well, I took exception to many things you accused me of.”

“I understand that and once again, I apologize.”

“Saying you apologize isn’t the same as saying you’re sorry. One is perfunctory, the other comes from the heart. If you truly have a heart, Leo, and are genuinely sorry, then show me.”

Her request stirs up all the naked images of her in my head that I’m trying to get rid of. “What would you have me do to prove my sincerity?”

“Let me see the look in your eyes when you say that you’re sorry.”

“Are you for real?”

“Always. My classes are over but I’ll be here for another hour or so, if you mean it.”

“I—”

Damn, she hung up. Fine. If she’s not willing to accept my apology, that’s on her. I have nothing to prove. I turn my attention back to the computer screen, reviewing the revenue numbers again. They’re healthy, but we could definitely use some fresh marketing, maybe a new offer of some kind, and an ad campaign. But it sure as hell won’t involve pink flyers.

As I type an email to my marketing consultant, Jazz’s provocative dare gets in the way of my concentration.If you truly have a heart, Leo, and are genuinely sorry, then show me. Problem is, it’s not my heart I want to show her. But she’d thrown down the gauntlet and walking away from a challenge is like calling it quits because you get to centre ice and don’t like the play. Whether it’s pride, my competitive instincts, or an idiotic urge to see Jazz again, I pack up, grab my Nike jacket, and inform Raj, my manager, that I’m leaving for the day.

Passing Kai’s cubicle, he looks up. I haven’t exchanged more than a few words with him since last night, and I’m not in the mood now.

“Clocking out, bro,” he says, grinning as if everything between us is just dandy. “Got plans tonight?”

“None of your business.”

Kai’s face falls, and for a moment I feel like shit. But I can’t let myself be swayed by his manipulative tactics. He’s a master at playing the victim card. Kai has proven that he can’t be trusted. I’d have to be a sucker for punishment to put my hand in that fire again.

My plan is to be in and out with a quick apology. The sign says closed, but the front door is unlocked, and the studio is empty, except for the room Jazz occupies. I pull up short and rethink the wisdom of this decision. Dressed in a pale pink leotard that scoops low and fits snug across her tits like a second skin, she glides across the floor on the points of her ballet shoes. These aren’t the gyrating moves I’d witnessed yesterday under the guise of exercise. But it’s no less seductive. The distinct strains of classical music surround her and close me in too. Everything outside that invisible bubble ceases to exist. My lungs sharply vacuum in the pulsing air.

She’s beautiful. Loose curls flying, leg warmers that come up over her knees, a grey filmy skirt sways around her shapely thighs and voluptuous hips like smoke. It feels voyeuristic, standing in the doorway watching her in a private moment, giving the dance not just her body, but everything inside her. Each movement is exquisitely timed and executed. Her arms spread out wide like graceful wings as she twirls, and when the music reaches its crescendo, she spins faster, at a dizzying speed, and leaps off the floor in the silhouette of an eagle, soaring through the sky. My gaze and breaths follow, enthralled by the way her body moves as if it is the song.

Jazz comes out of the series of spins and leaps in time with the fading notes, winding down like the ballerina on a music box,slowly, delicately, until she comes to a complete stop. When she straightens, her face is flushed and glowing. Our eyes meet, and those big eyes strike me like a one-two punch to the solar plexus.

I want her, right here, right now…under me…on top of me…all around me. But acting on impulse is not my M.O.—although I couldn’t prove that by my behaviour toward her so far. This time will be different. I enter the room, and state the obvious. “That was exceptional.”

“Thanks.” Jazz takes a bow and smiles with pleasure.

“Why aren’t you dancing professionally instead of doing this Fab Fitness thing?”

Her smile disappears faster than it came. “Well, you wasted no time in trashing my gym again.”

“What? I just said you are exceptional.”

“It was a backhanded compliment, and you know it.”

“It happens to be the truth,” I say without apology. “Your talent is being wasted.”

“Who are you to judge that? I happen to love what I do.”

“Fine.” I put up my hands in peace. She’s clearly touchy and I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

She gives me a withering glance before taking a long drink from anI’m Fit & Fabthermos. “I thought you came to apologize.”

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