Friends and Lovers (6 page)

“How did you do that?” she asked breathlessly.

“It was painted to reflect nature and show the subtle changes of daylight. Watch this.” He adjusted the lights again and she was bowled over. “The only thing I can’t get is winter—obviously.”

“Incredible.” She shook her head and walked closer.

Wes snapped off the switches with a smile and brandished his bag. “Are you ready?”

Lauren sighed. “I suppose.”

He jostled her with his elbow on the way out. “You’re going to love this.”

Chapter 6

After dressing in what had to be the ugliest locker room in existence Lauren walked out and saw Wes talking with Bob along the far wall. His dark gray tank clung to his chest like oil and he looked so sinfully hot in those silky black shorts that Lauren actually moaned.

Oh man, had he changed. This was not the body she’d fixated on for so many years. Wes was truly a man now and filled out in all the right places from what she could see. The strength, the power of his form was devastating to her healthy ovaries.

Both men turned and nodded as she approached, but Wes added a smile and it bolstered Lauren’s shaky confidence until she felt the stroke of his gaze run over her body in turn. Before she could stop herself she glanced down at her formfitting top and clingy bottoms. When her chin came up he was waiting. The look that passed between them could have melted a glacier.

“Cute ponytail,” he said with a cocky little smile, then he tipped his head at the far doorway. “Bob says we can use the mat room. You should be more comfortable in there.”

Bob scowled at a couple of men who were giving Lauren their undivided attention. “Yeah, I’d rather you didn’t distract these idiots.”

Lauren raised her hand in agreement. “Works for me.”

“Good.”

* * * *

Wes led Lauren off to find a pair of gloves to fit her small hands, then they left the noise of the main gym behind, taking possession of the smaller gym where Wes taught his defense classes.

“You should stretch out a little, warm up first.” He pointed to the mats and dropped the gloves and tape on the floor.

While he walked over to the hook on the wall and unwound the rope, slowly lowering a suspended bag, Lauren stepped onto the mat and spread her feet wide. Bending forward, she placed her palms flat against the soft floor. Lauren flexed through her back and arched her neck, thrusting her chest toward the floor and her bottom in the air.

Wes turned and nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of her pert ass presented to him. Tempting, way too tempting. He cleared his throat and took a calming breath before wandering back.

Lauren shifted her weight slightly and looked up at him from between her spread legs. “Are you ready?”

Oh, man. Loaded question, honey.
“Yes,” he said gruffly.

He bent and picked up the spool he’d brought with him while she straightened and rolled her head and shoulders back a few times, shifting her breasts at the same time. Was she intentionally torturing him?

“Hold out your hand,” he directed, standing in front of her.

* * * *

Lauren gave him her right and stared like a hypnotized idiot at his sculpted chest, his lean ribs, and his firm abs while he hooked a loop over her thumb and proceeded to wrap her wrist and knuckles.

She finally looked down at what he was doing and asked, “What’s with the tape? I thought I was going to wear gloves.”

“You’ll need both.”

“Oh.”

He secured it with Velcro then looked at her expectantly. She handed him her left next and he went to work, wrapping that one too.

Squatting down for a second, he picked up the gloves and held them out for her. She fought her hands inside and he snugged up the closures around her wrists.

“How does it feel?”

“How’s it supposed to feel?”

“No pinching? Can you make a fist?”

“It’s good.”

“Then you’re all set. Come on.” He brought her over to the bag.

Wes took up a position in front of the bag and directed Lauren’s attention to his feet which, he pointed out, were shoulder-width apart.

Mmm, so they are.

“Are you paying attention?” he asked.

Lauren jumped, ripping her eyes away from his amazing shoulders.

“Yes,” she said with a blush.

“Don’t lock your knees. Are you right or left handed?”

“Right.”

“Okay, so you’re going to want your left foot forward and your right foot back, toe somewhere between twelve and two. See?”

“Yes.”

“Another thing, don’t plant your right heel.”

She looked and nodded.

“Keep your hips right under your shoulders and don’t lean. Your body should be one solid unit.” He moved aside and waved her forward. “Reach out with your arm.”

She raised her glove and he moved her closer to the bag.

“Good, you don’t want to overextend. Balance is important.”

Lauren’s body temperature climbed several degrees once he started positioning her. His hands followed her legs and took hold of her feet, turning them out. When he caught her at the hips she nearly melted, but thankfully he didn’t seem aware. By the time he released her shoulders she was almost dizzy, but he wasn’t finished yet. Wes stepped directly behind her, his solid body pressed right up against hers, and his arms came around her as he took hold of her wrists to demonstrate how to throw a punch. At that point, she didn’t care if she ever threw a punch, she did not want this moment to end.

But they did punch and jab as one being until he felt confident she understood how to strike without injuring herself. Then he walked around to the other side and took hold of the bag, facing her. His smile was like a narcotic—tough to overcome once hooked.

“Center of the bag, Lauren. Hands tight, wrists strong.”

Her first two hits careened off the sides, and she blushed because she wasn’t concentrating. Not that she was going to explain herself. It was hard enough having to ignore how intently he was watching her without admitting he was unraveling her.

“Come on, focus,” he said.

Easier said than done, but somehow she managed it and he cheered her on. “Give me more.”

Give him more? The man didn’t know what he was asking. She laughed and struck again, and again, and again, using her sexual frustration, her close proximity to the man of her dreams, and her long standing cowardice to pummel the innocent bag.

Ten minutes later she was a sweating, heaving mess. Dropping the gloves to her sides, she let them hang heavily while she panted for air.

Wes walked out from behind the bag, beaming proudly. He reached up and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear then held out his hands.

“All done?” he asked.

Lauren nodded weakly, too tired to answer.

“Here, let me help you.”

Lauren swayed while Wes removed her gloves and unwound the wrappings on her hands.

“Why don’t you hit the shower and we’ll get you something to drink. I’ll bet you could use it about now.”

“You’d be right,” she said brokenly.

“Go on.” Wes steered her by the shoulders to the door. “I’ll put everything away.”

Lauren gave him a mute nod of thanks and wandered out.

* * * *

Since Lauren didn’t want to deal with her hair at the gym, she didn’t wash it there, but she did tidy her ponytail after a quick shower. With nothing but lip gloss in her purse, she was out of luck as far as cosmetics were concerned, but the approval she saw on Wes’s face when she walked out made her feel pretty anyway.

He handed her a Styrofoam cup of tepid water and Lauren downed it in one go. She grimaced at the unpleasant aftertaste.

Wes smiled. “Sorry, it’s all they have. That’s why I usually bring my own bottle.”

“It’s okay. At this point, I’m so thirsty I’d consider putting my face in a puddle, so don’t sweat it.”

He laughed. “Well, I can do better than that. Come on.”

Lauren tossed her empty cup in the trash can on their way out.

Wes caught the door and pushed it open for her, then followed her into the sunshine. “So, what did you think?”

She took a deep breath of fresh air before admitting, “I can see how some people would box to stay in shape or use it to work out frustrations.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“I liked it, but I would never want to box against anyone else. I don’t like the idea of hitting someone, and I really don’t like the idea of someone hitting me.”

His eyes were dancing. “We’ll just stick to bags if you’d rather.”

“I’d rather.”

“No problem.” Wes hit his unlock button and opened the passenger door for her.

They stopped off at a little stand a few blocks away, near the police station, and ordered fresh squeezed juice. With their glasses in hand they claimed one of the picnic tables and sat talking until daylight waned and the outdoor lights came on. Only when the bug zapper began to seriously compete with their conversation did they finally abandon their table.

Wes parked outside Lauren’s apartment and she felt the hesitation between them. Should she invite him up? How would he read that? They’d already exhausted their safe topics of conversation, so that was out, and this hardly qualified as a date. In her dreams, maybe. But even as Lauren wrestled with uncertainty, she felt the moment slip away. In the end, she thanked Wes for being there for her and went up alone, his soft, “Good night,” repeating in her mind like a lullaby.

* * * *

The first thing Wes did when he walked through his front door was drop onto the couch and fish his phone out of his pocket to dial his sister’s number. His brother-in-law answered the call.

“Ken? Is Sherry there?”

“Wes?” Sherry sounded groggy.

“Damn. Did I wake you?”

“I was just dozing in front of the television. I can’t seem to help it.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No problem. What’s up?”

“I just spent hours with Lauren. Has she called you yet?”

“No,” she said slowly.

A burst of air puffed out of him. “That’s what I thought. I wonder what’s going on in her head.”

“You spent hours together but you didn’t find out?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted. “We talked about everything and nothing. It’s like we’re both dancing around the important stuff.”

“You can change that, you know.”

“I’m afraid to push her. She’s way too skittish. Besides, I don’t think she’s ever been very comfortable around me. I’m working on it, but it’s a process.” There was a pause as pregnant as his sister before he finally went on. “Sher, she doesn’t smile or laugh as much as she used to. Do you know what I mean?”

“Lauren’s in pain.”

“How long does it have to last?”

“She lost her sister and her nephew. That’s going to stay with her forever, but she does need to move forward. She can’t change the past, and no matter how many women and kids she helps it isn’t going to bring back Sarah or her son.”

“But people recover from grief—they do—and they learn to enjoy life again. She’s only hurting herself by keeping it fresh.”

Sherry sighed. “I wish she felt comfortable reaching out to me.”

“There has to be something you can suggest?”

She snapped her fingers so loudly it hurt Wes’s ear. “I’ve got it!” she exclaimed, and Wes winced at the phone in his hand. “I’ll ask Jolene to invite Lauren to my baby shower on Saturday.”

“I’ll deliver her myself just to make sure she goes.”

“I’ll call Joe as soon as I hang up with you.”

“Then I won’t keep you.” His voice was hushed when he said, “Thank you for this, Sherry. She needs it.”

“I know. Let me know if there’s anything else, okay?”

“I promise.”

Chapter 7

It was sometime after four when Sylvia found the courage to slip away from her snoring husband and move to the sofa. She dozed fitfully until eight when Hope woke up, then not at all. Hope didn’t need reminders anymore to keep the noise down, neither wanted to wake Wayne. They kept to the kitchen with the volume on the small television turned low. Hope ate her cereal while she watched cartoons and Sylvia sipped from her coffee mug, her hands still shaking and cold.

Wayne had used the pistol again last night, pressing it to her temple while he sat on her and punched her in the back and kidneys. When that grew old, he wrenched her head around by the hair. He leaned down, crushing the breath right out of her and whispered promises in her ear. There was a time when she’d loved his whispers, they were seductive and sweet. Now, when his voice was in that quiet octave, Sylvia’s pulse surged from fear. His tone was as abrasive as sandpaper over tender skin. It rasped her with assurances of how much worse he’d make it for her if she made a peep and woke their daughter.

He got off on terrorizing her. Wayne practically writhed with the heady pleasure of her fear and the control he enjoyed over her. Only then did Wayne get an erection, but she could never predict what he would do with it. Last night he’d raped her in the ass as she stifled her screams in the pillow, biting her lip until it bled. At least he only held the gun to her temple. It was always worse when he decided to jam it up her vagina and torture her with the possibility that it might just go off. She actually wanted it to go off—but inside him, in his mouth. She swore to herself that she’d licked down the sides of that damn gun for the last time. She felt ill whenever she thought about Wayne sticking it in her face and ordering her to give it head while his eyes rolled back and he moaned like a beast.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. She was grabbing her daughter and running tomorrow. Once he left for work and couldn’t keep tabs on her, she was making her move. She wanted to leave now, so desperately she could weep, but it was Sunday and he had the day off. He had the time to come after them. No, she had to keep things peaceful and quiet today, do nothing to arouse his suspicions. Even Hope didn’t know anything and she wouldn’t, not until they were already away from him.

Because Wayne was stingy with money, only giving her what he thought she needed at any given time and nothing extra, Sylvia had put aside a little at a time, slowly accumulating a personal stash over the last three years. She sold whatever she could spare on e-bay. She cut coupons and only shopped on double coupon days. She never ignored cash rebates. Anything she could squirrel away went right into her escape fund. She would have liked to have more set aside but every day brought her death a little closer. She knew it, felt it. Wayne was coming unhinged when they were alone and the attacks were more frequent and far more sadistic.