Within This Frame (9 page)

“Again?” she whined, but obliged when his blank expression didn’t change. “Is this essential?”

“Lift your arms,” Lance directed.

Maggie raised her arms above her head.

“That’s too high. Like this.” He adjusted her arms so that they hovered at shoulder-length.

Lance took another measurement, this one around her breasts. She sucked in a sharp breath when one of his fingers grazed the slope of her breast as he stepped away. He was quick to avert his face, but she caught the smile.

“You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“Yes, I am,” he agreed.

He went on to measure her biceps, neck, hips, and each thigh, his face directly in front of a place that would remain unnamed. She held perfectly still during that, not even wanting to breathe. Then she began to wonder why he didn’t move for so long. When he abruptly stood and turned away, she thought she understood, although the thought was implausible. Him, turned on by her, in her present state? Not likely. It was more probable that he got a cramp in his leg.

The next hour was spent going through her cupboards and refrigerator. Maggie wanted to weep as the pile of food to donate grew and grew, and the pile of food to keep remained abysmally small.

“There are good fats and bad fats. This—” Lance shook a bag of potato chips in front of her face. Maggie swiped at it with her hand, but he pulled it out of reach. “—is a bad fat.” He tossed it into the pile of food that she was no longer allowed to eat whenever she felt like it.

“What are good fats?” Her tone was snarky. She didn’t care.

Lance trained his gaze on her. “Nuts and seeds, avocados, salmon, olives, peanut butter, and most oils.”

“So all the things I don’t like. Wonderful.”

“You know what?” Lance looked at the counter laden with all the delicious food. “Let’s take your car and drop this stuff off at the church. We’ll make a stop at the sports store before the grocery store and then come back to start your training. You can walk on the treadmill today.”

It all sounded like too much work, and not in the least bit desirable. “I am regretting this more and more.”

He slammed a hand on the countertop, causing Maggie to jump. Lance put his face at eyelevel with hers and stared into her soul with dark, malicious eyes. “Enough with the comments. I don’t want to waste my time on someone who isn’t serious about getting healthy. I don’t need your money that bad. Either you’re in this, or you aren’t. Which is it?”

Maggie stared back, startled by the outburst. The longer she looked into his unflappable gaze, the more she realized he was right. It was her idea, and although Lance wasn’t her first choice as a personal trainer, she had to cut him some slack and let him do his job. Moaning and carrying on wasn’t helping anyone—not her, not him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said, the words thick and bitter in her mouth. “I’ll stop complaining.”

A smile took over the stony expression, and he straightened. “Well, you are allowed to complain a little.”

As they walked out the front door, both with a box of food in their arms, Lance looked at her and said, “This isn’t something minor. You need to be in it one hundred percent, or it isn’t worth it. Every time you go to eat or drink something, you have to think about what you’re about to put in your body. It’s a lifestyle change, and you should be ready for that. All right?”

“All right, Coach,” she joked, bumping her shoulder to his when his eyebrows lowered.

“Coach,” he said softly, testing out the word. “I like it.” Lance puffed out his chest and jabbed his thumb at it. “That’s right. I’m in charge.”

“As long as I continue to pay you, you’re in charge, you mean,” she said with a lifted eyebrow.

Lance tugged at her ponytail with his free hand, causing shivers to cascade down her arms. “You’ll pay me, one way or another.”

That sounded erotically threatening, and she wondered if he would demand payment in kisses, a thought that would usually make her scowl at a memory, but that time, made her smile.

***

Lance ushered her into the first sports store they came across in the strip mall. The store was warmer than necessary and smelled like feet. Rows and rows of clothing were set up throughout, shoes lining one wall. Hard rock music played, making Maggie twitch with the need to angrily storm around the place.

He grabbed random articles of clothing, throwing them her way. “Let me see these when you have them on.”

“You don’t even know what size I am,” she said, putting back the clothes.

“Oh, but I do,” he said near her ear. “You’re a size sexy.”

Maggie stepped back with a frown on her face, divided between laughing and hitting him. “Why would I need to show you anyway? I know what fits me and what doesn’t.”

“It’s part of the job.”

“Really?” A thought came to her. “How many of your clients are women?”

“About sixty percent.”

She nodded. “And how many of them have to go clothes shopping with you?”

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re getting at.”

“Think so?”

“You’re implying that I have unprofessional relationships with my female clients.”

“Do you?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Only with you.” He winked.

Maggie snorted. “I wouldn’t doubt your idea of doing your job is seeing how many of your clients you can sleep with.”

“Does this include all one hundred percent of them, or just the sixty percent that are actually women?”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

“Bad choice of words. Brings up a horrible visual,” he added in a mutter at her look, tossing more pants and tops at her. “Try these on and then come out.”

Maggie caught them against her chest. “Why can’t I have one of the workers let me know if they fit? Why does it have to be you?”

“Like that worker?” He nodded to a tall, gangly blond who was picking his nose. As they watched, he wiped his hand on his shorts and went in for another dig.

Maggie cringed.

Lance turned to her. “You really want that horny, nose-picking teenager to be groping you?”

“As opposed to you?”

“I’ll only grope a little.” At her look, he grinned. “I’ll make sure you like it too.”

Maggie turned on her heel and stomped for the fitting rooms. She took off her shirt and shorts, then grabbed the first top. It was a size extra-small. She made a sound of disbelief.

“Everything okay in there?” Lance called, sounding thoroughly happy with himself.

Maggie checked another top. It was an extra-extra-large. Scowling, she hurriedly went through the rest of the clothes. Out of the ten garments, two tops and one pair of exercise shorts were actually her size.

“Need some help?”

“I do, actually.”

“Open the door and I’ll gladly assist.”

“I bet you would,” she muttered, swooping up all the outfits into her arms. Maggie said in a louder voice, “Can you stand by the door so I can give you something that doesn’t fit?”

“Okay. I’m here. What do you n—”

She threw all the clothes over the top of the door, hoping they all landed on his head. Through the space between the bottom of the door and the floor, she watched with satisfaction as a rainbow of clothes formed around his tennis shoes.

“I guess they don’t fit,” he said calmly.

“No. I guess they don’t. If you’d actually looked at the sizes, you would have known that.”

“Are you naked right now?”

“Tell you what,” she purred from inside the small clothing room as she looked with displeasure at her image in the mirror. “I’ll get naked, when you get naked.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

With irritation burning through her, Maggie grabbed a shirt that actually fit and chucked it over the top of the door.

“Are we getting naked then?” he asked after a pause.

Maggie tugged on her shirt and shorts, unlocked the door, and slammed a palm against it, smiling slightly when the door hit Lance in the shoulder. “Why are you standing so close to the door?”

“I thought maybe I’d acquire x-ray vision if I stared at the door long enough,” he said, rubbing his shoulder.

“Did it work?”

“The results are inconclusive. I was still working on it when you hit me with the door.”

“Lance,” Maggie said, looking out the window of the store. The parking lot was filling up with people and their vehicles. “I think I can manage to pick out clothes that properly fit me.”

Eyeing her chest, Lance shook his head. “I’m having doubts about that. Remember the nipple death trap you were trying to pawn off as a bra?”

Maggie walked to the nearest rack of shirts, rifling through them before choosing one in her size. With Lance following, she found a pair of shorts, and a sports bra. Lifting her eyebrows at him, she stepped back into the fitting room, unclothed, put on the athletic garb, and swung the door open. Exercise clothes were great for giving the appearance of being slimmer in certain areas of the physique, but that fat had to go somewhere. Maggie’s stomach and hips were overly rounded at the moment.

She strode out, met his eyes as she struck a pose, turned around, and did the same before facing him again. “Well?”

He rubbed his jaw as he walked a circle around her, Maggie rolling her eyes when his met hers. Laughter danced within the blue depths of them. The Lance before her seemed more carefree than the one of younger years—or he’d become a better actor. Everyone changed as they got older, but did they really change that much? She wondered in what ways Lance had, and in what ways he hadn’t.

“I think I need to see one more before I can give a definitive answer.” At her scowl, he laughed and held up his hands, palms out. “I’m kidding. They look good. How’s the bra?” He reached out a hand and she slapped it away.

“It fits just fine. It’s tight enough to be supportive but also comfortable.”

“Even if you’re running? Maybe you should try it out, jog in place a bit, jump up and down. I’ll watch, give my qualified opinion.” Lance gave her a cheeky grin.

Maggie picked out two more outfits, bras, socks, and a pair of tennis shoes. At a department store next door, she got basic, sturdy underwear. Once she had the appropriate apparel, and a heart monitor calorie tracker thing Lance insisted she needed that she was sure she didn’t, they left the strip mall and headed toward the grocery store down the road.

Lance drove her Camry like it was his, pulling the vehicle into the parking lot of ‘Gramp’s’, a local, privately owned grocery store. They spent an hour in the store, and Maggie spent a load of money as well.

More than once she complained, “Why is healthy food so expensive?” It was like the world wanted everyone to be fat. Three apples cost more than a meal at a fast food restaurant. He gave her a pat on the head as she pushed the cart stocked with food out of the store, his attention elsewhere. When he stiffened next to her, then just as quickly relaxed, she looked in the direction he was.

“What is it?” Maggie demanded, even as she noticed the two women. Both brunette, seeming to be in their early forties, they stood near a car in the parking lot, first gawking at them—or more specifically, Lance—and then talking to one another. Their expressions were equally excited and fearful, which was a common look for fans.

She gestured to them. “Better get to it. You know you’ll make their day if you sign something.”

“Day?” He glanced over his broad shoulder at her as he strode for them. “More like infinite days, or even their whole existence.”

She couldn’t deny that, and with a much slower pace than Lance, Maggie pushed the cart in their direction. She watched as Lance hugged them both quickly, their squeals and chatter reaching her as she closed the distance. He’d always been more comfortable around fans than Maggie. She felt weird even saying she had them. It didn’t seem natural to idolize another person, flawed and mortal as they were.

One of them said something to Lance. He went still, then shook his head. The woman’s face fell and she looked behind him to Maggie. Her steps slowed, and she knew she wasn’t going to like whatever awaited her. They all turned their attention to her.

“Hello,” Maggie greeted softly.

Her hands were taken by one of the ladies and tightly squeezed. “Maggie Smiley,” she breathed. “It’s so great to meet you. I—we’re—both huge fans of ‘Easier Said’. I watch reruns of it all the time.”

“Thank you so much.” Sincere though the words were, Maggie always felt they were lacking somehow. If not for fans, the show wouldn’t have gone anywhere.

She hugged the woman, asking her name. Her name was Beth, and the lady beside her was her sister Rachel. Maggie hugged her as well, again thanking them for their love of the show.

“I was so upset when the show was cancelled. I moped around the house for weeks.”

Maggie shifted her eyes down, the ghost of guilt creeping along her spine. She didn’t look at Lance, not wanting to see whatever expression he wore.

“She really did,” Rachel supplied, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “I had to force her to watch ‘Black as Sin’ to get over it.”

Beth placed a hand on Maggie’s arm. “Not that it was even close to being as good as ‘Easier Said’, but the murders on the series did take my mind off things.”

Lance murmured, “I imagine it did.”

Maggie looked at him, found his eyes on her. A faint smile lined his mouth.

“Can we—would it be okay to get some pictures with you two? I’m sure you get asked all the time, but . . . and I didn’t realize you were talking to one another! That’s so great. Any plans for future co-projects? It would be great to see you together again on television.” Beth paused and sucked in a lungful of air.

“She rambles when she’s nervous,” Rachel told them.

“We actually have to get going, lots of food that needs to be refrigerated,” Maggie said, avoiding the questions.

Beth’s eyes dimmed. “Oh. Okay. Of course. Thanks for talking with us.” She turned to her sister. “Let’s make sure we pick up some pie for Greg. Blueberry, if they have it.”

“I think we can manage one picture,” Lance said to Beth as the sisters started to walk away, but his words were for Maggie.