Body of Work (11 page)

“Latecomer,” a red-faced woman yelled, pointing straight at Cassie.

“Tattletale,” Cassie muttered under her breath. She pulled the front of her baseball cap lower and tried skirting around the group to the back row. Too late, the entire lot of jumpers had zeroed in on her, and they were hooting like crazed people. This couldn’t be a good sign.

“Not so fast there.” Brian’s deep timbre stopped her in her tracks. “You have to pay up.”

Oh god, of course there was a fee. By the time she turned to face him, her cheeks burned something fierce and the one-armpit stress sweating had kicked in. Lovely.

He took the count to one hundred, then gave the trainees a break. “One minute rest.”

A group sigh of relief went up from his minions. A few of them dropped exaggeratedly onto the grass. Brian ignored them, hooked one finger at her and reeled her closer. If he was hurting from a hangover, it didn’t show. No bloodshot eyes or dark circles to give away the night Sam had outlined. If anything, he looked energized. And in gray sport shorts that showed off his muscular legs and a steel-blue sleeveless tee that accentuated his muscles and the color of his eyes, he also looked downright delicious. No wonder he garnered a huge crowd on Sunday mornings.

He folded his thick arms across his chest and stared down at her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Not “this is a nice surprise”, or, “glad you came”. She could kill Sam for persuading her to do this. “I like to mix things up. But I left my purse in the car, so I’ll go get it and be right back with some money.” Yeah, right. Once she got to her car, she was so out of here.

“Hold it.” He didn’t touch her, didn’t move a muscle. Nor did he need to. His voice alone glued her to the spot. “The first class is always free. No easy getaway for you, cutie.”

“Then what was that comment about paying up?”

A wicked smile curled into place between that ginger beard and mustache. “Latecomers interrupt the flow of the routine. There’s a toll for that.”

She surveyed his students. Some were toned and fit, but most had a journey ahead of them before they hit that point. Whatever they could do, she could do. She lifted her chin and returned his cocky grin. “Name it.”

“Ready for pushups,” he called over his shoulder. Behind him, dozens of bodies assumed the standard position. “You’ll be doing yours right here, in front of everybody.”

“No problem.” She shook out her arms. Clasped them behind her back to stretch her pectoral muscles, then hit the ground. “Drop and give you ten?”

“You’re going to give me a hell of a lot more than ten.” He chuckled. “But you’re not ready to start yet.” His feet left her field of vision. Some cheers—and taunts—rose from front of the pack. Next thing she knew, Brian had his hand wrapped around her shins, lifting her legs off the ground.

“What the—?” Her toes connected with a solid surface again, but they hadn’t gone down in elevation. She craned her neck and saw the mammoth tire under her feet. Oh crap.

He knelt, tickled her ear with his breath. “Time to pay up.” He straightened, giving her butt a hearty whack on the way. “One!”

By the fifteenth pushup, heat had spread across her chest and shoulders. To her left, the masses continued heaving their various weights up and down. Nobody quit. Nobody looked close to quitting. Neither would she.

“Seventeen…”

Boot-campers started falling off at eighteen. Not her. No way. Piece of cake, this.

“Twenty-three…”

Good god, her arms. Apparently Jell-O
could
do pushups.

“Twenty-nine…”

Her abs had officially caught fire.

“Thirty-one…who’s had enough?” He laughed at the mixture of groans that answered his question. “Too bad. Thirty-two…” He crouched beside her. “How about you—had enough yet?”

“Never.” She only had enough breath for one word, and it seemed to amuse the hell out of him.

“Thirty-three…” A heavy palm spanned her back, applying less-than-subtle pressure. “Thirty-four…how about now?”

“You’re a—”

“Thirty-five, and done. One minute break.”

This time, she joined her fellow victims in the communal sigh of relief. She collapsed onto her stomach, eyes closed, groaning as the grass soothed her scorching skin. Her baseball cap rolled off her head, letting more heat escape. She might not move from this spot for the duration of Brian’s class.

“I’m a what?” he asked, tipping a bottle above the back of her head. Cool water dribbled down her shoulders and neck.

“Oh god, that feels good. I was going to say jerk, but now you’re my hero.”

“You should probably stick with jerk.”

She mustered the energy to roll onto her back, catching one arm on his shin in the process. Forget the heat from the pushups, the sparks where their bodies touched were ten times hotter. She tipped her chin up, and yes, arched her back so her nipples made two points in her pale-blue tank top. “Do me again, you big jerk.”

His eyes skimmed her body, then returned to her face. His fingers twitched on the water bottle. Instead of pouring it over her, or taking her up on her offer in some other, better way, he stood. Turned his back on her and boomed the next order of business.

“On your feet. Time to work the legs.”

Sam had been way off-base, thinking Brian wanted her here. For the next forty minutes, he put the group through a sequence of exercises that seemed as though they’d be a walk in the park, so to speak, but ended up being torture in the park instead. Through it all, he encouraged his trainees—except for her.

Oh, she got plenty of his attention. When he had them do long hops across the field, he reminded everybody else to keep their legs together. Not her. He made an example of her by securing her legs closed with a skipping rope. During numerous lengths of walking lunges, he strode alongside her, nagging her to take longer, deeper steps. He finally wandered off—when she met his expectations, presumably—only to return with a coil of thick rope, which he hung around her neck “for added resistance”.

That rope later looped around her waist so she could run—a loose description of what she actually did—across the field while dragging the monstrous truck tire. Good god, the fire in her legs. Next, backward crab crawling. Modified back-rows using the rope slung over a low-hanging tree branch. Flipping the massive, heavy tire over and over until her muscles screamed. Alternating knee-raises while stepping up on the tire. She had no love for that damn tire. Not much left for the drill sergeant trailing her through every exercise, commanding her to tuck in, lift up, stretch out—and everything in between. They had to be nearing the end of this godforsaken hour.

Another boot-camper called him away to hold her feet for crunches. Cassie faked a cough to mask her laugh, not that she blamed the woman in neon spandex for finding an excuse to get Brian’s hands on her body, even if it meant doing more sit-ups.

Cassie used the reprieve to flop on the grass. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of lilies and fresh-cut grass, the sweetness of summer in general, before releasing it all in a slow, relaxing breath. Sunshine kissed her skin, creating spots behind her closed eyelids. Didn’t matter that she was sweat-soaked, she welcomed the hug of the sun’s rays as they gifted her with that sense of lightness that precedes sleep. Perfection.

“Hey,” the toe of Brian’s shoe nudged her waistline, “there’s no napping at boot camp.”

“Just enjoying my minute of rest.” She cracked an eye open. The giant towering over her blocked her access to the sun, eliminating the need to squint. “What’s next, slave driver, laps around the pond?” She blinked until the sunspots disappeared and he came into focus, looking massively sexy and more than a little amused. “What?” Oh crap. “I know…there’s a toll for taking an unauthorized break. Let me guess, I get to
crawl
around the pond, dragging the tire, while you walk behind me, kicking my butt.”

“Not today, but I’ll keep it in mind for another time.”

She bet he might—and he’d enjoy every minute of it. “Are you always this much of a taskmaster, or was today an initiation?”

“Does that mean you’re coming back?”

“I’m considering it.” She shuffled onto her elbows. “What the—where is everybody, and all your stuff?”

“Packed up. Why, you want another go at that tire?” He winked. “Everybody left fifteen minutes ago, while you were out cold.” Now he was grinning ear to ear. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let them see you drool.”

She waved a hand at him, forcing his gentlemanly side to grasp it and pull her up. “I do not drool in my sleep.”

“I know.” He should’ve released her. He didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead he pulled her closer. Not tight against him like he wanted, but damn near. She let him, but maybe that was because his hold on her tiny hand was gentle this time. “About last night—”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Yeah, he drank too much at Sam’s and the specifics of their conversation had blurry patches, but he sure as hell knew what’d happened at Blur, and it didn’t require an apology from Cassie.

“You’re still mad.” The big eyes staring up at him lowered as she muttered, “I knew coming here was a bad idea.”

Now he was really fucking confused. “Hey…” He nudged her chin up with his free hand. “You think I’m mad at you? Hell no, try turning that around. I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t expect you to forget what I did, but I swear to you, it’ll never happen again.” That wasn’t enough, but he plowed forward anyway. She’d come out this morning for more than a workout and he wasn’t letting yet another chance slip away. “I want to see you again,” he tried for a smile and hoped to hell he didn’t look like a psycho, “and not just as your taskmaster.”

“I’d like that, but…” If she chewed her bottom lip any harder, it’d bleed. Indecision swirled in the beautiful eyes staring up at him. “What about yesterday? Should we talk about it, or…would you rather not?”

His gut couldn’t have ached more if she’d run him through with a knife. He deserved the pain for hurting her last night. But she was here, in his arms and still speaking to him, so he sucked it up.

“We can talk about anything you want, anytime you want. Or we can—” How much of an asshole would he be if he asked if they could just move on?

“Accept that people aren’t always perfect and hang out, have fun together?”

Forgiveness he desperately wanted, but hadn’t dared ask for. “Sounds great.”

“To me too.”

He caught her around the waist as she did a cute little hop, throwing her arms around his neck. One hug and everything was right in the world. Didn’t seem possible, but the proof was plastered against his body, and more to the point, trying to bust out of his chest. She’d given him a gift today and he wouldn’t take it for granted.

He squeezed her tighter, dipped down to bury his nose below her ear. “You smell good.”

“You must be hard of smelling.” She giggled at his continued snuffling. “I’m sweaty from head to toe, I can’t smell good.”

“You do.” Salty sweetness registered on his tongue as he drew it down her neck to her shoulder. With a hooked finger, he pulled the front of her tank top open, then lowered his head and licked between her breasts.

“Oh god, don’t, I’m disgusting.”

“Not even close. You taste good enough to eat.” His cock had already picked up on the idea, and his athletic shorts did zero to hide his interest. He nudged her with his hard-on and nodded toward the nearby pavilion. “Let’s go.”

She glanced over, then up at his face. “There? And do what?”

“Pretty sure I just told you.”

“You’re not serious.”

The lack of the word
no
in her answer worked for him. He slid his palms over her warm, bare legs. Lifted her and wrapped them around his waist. Torture for him, having her pussy pressed against his cock and knowing he wouldn’t be inside her anytime soon. If she decided to return for more boot camp classes, he’d start bringing condoms with him on Sunday mornings. He could think of half a dozen places in the park where he’d like to fuck her, and multiple ways he’d like to do it. They might have to come back later.

Luck continued to smile on him, because the pavilion was empty. He carried her over, plunging them into deep shade compared to the brilliant sunshine beyond the shelter. The sense of darkness gave the hall a private feeling, despite its wide-open sides. Logically, he knew anybody walking by would be able to see them. Logic could take a seat in the back for a while.

He set her on a picnic table. Stood between her legs and cupped her face in his hands. “I’ve wanted to do this for over an hour.” Her lips were soft and warm. Instantly yielding and eager as he crushed his against them, swept his tongue inside. It’d been less than twenty-four hours since he’d kissed her, yet too fucking long. And too dangerously close to losing this—losing her—for good.

Her tiny hands curled over his shoulders. She broke their kiss enough to talk without truly separating their mouths. “Only for an hour? I’ve wanted to do that since last night. I waited up for you, hoping you’d show up on my doorstep again.”

“I wanted to, so fucking much, but I just—couldn’t.”

“I get it.”

How could she, really? Cassie was so sweet and straightforward, she had no idea what a man like him could do.
Had
done. That he’d needed to skulk away and punish himself for hurting her with his big, stupid hands. Put as much distance between his beastlike tendencies and her delicate body as possible, for her sake.