When it was finally time to leave, I waited until I heard the last computer shut down then made a bee-line for the double doors. Just to be safe, I took the stairs.
And just like that—I was out. No one could touch me, no one could quiz me, no one could mess with me for at least two days. It was the weekend—and I had certainly earned it.
Instead of heading back to the apartment, where Rose would no doubt be waiting to hear how the presentation played out, I went straight to the gym. I needed to run off my frustration for a while. Take off these binding office clothes and sweat it out where no Larchwood could ever find me.
At least...that was the plan.
I’d just emerged from the locker room, wearing a pair of clinging yoga capris and a sports bra, when I walked straight into Michael Larchwood.
I gasped and fell a step back, shivering a little when he caught me. (Men like Michael caught by the waist, not the shoulders.)
“Mr. Larchwood,” I stuttered, instantly wishing I’d worn more clothes. “What are you...I mean...I didn’t know this was your gym.”
“It’s not.” He laughed as he set me back down on my feet. “I’m just trying it out for the day. Seeing where the evening takes me.”
His eyes twinkled incessantly, and I couldn’t help but shake my head with a rueful grin.
“You don’t give up easily, do you?”
He laughed again. This time, he threw in a wink.
“Nope.”
I chuckled myself and accepted his arm when he offered it.
“Where to, Madame?”
I shook my head again. “I’m heading to the treadmills. That’s where I’m going.”
He pretended to look surprised. “That’s funny—that’s where I’m going as well.” His eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Are you...are you following me?”
For whatever reason, that was the breaking point.
The stress of the week and the nerves from the presentation finally pulled me over the edge, and I erupted in a fit of exhausted giggles. He stepped back when they started, looking wary that he’d somehow broken me, then his face brightened into a wide smile, and he chuckled along.
“Just don’t, okay?” I pleaded between gasps. “I can’t handle you right now.”
The walls had come down, and names no longer mattered. We were two people, the same age, flirting/trying-not-to-be-flirted-with at the gym. There was nothing more to it.
“You don’t have to handle me at all.” He held up his hands innocently. “I’ll do all the handling, I promise.”
I snorted and shoved him away from me as I hopped up onto the treadmill. Instead of taking the one next to me, he sat directly across, casually lifting weights and pretending not to look my way. I bit my lip to keep from smiling and turned up the speed to run faster.
The problem with Michael was, he wasn’t a bad guy. It wasn’t like I could just write him off and feel okay about it. In fact, aside from being entirely too bold, he actually seemed like a great guy. He was forward, sure, but he was charming and utterly adorable about it. And then of course...there was that face.
In a different life, who knows?
All I knew for sure was that it wasn’t going to happen in this one.
“Jenna, can I ask you a question?”
I tried to glare at him, still biting my lip to keep from smiling. “What.”
“Are these weights making me come off as...too powerful?”
I barked with laughter and missed a step, throwing my hands onto the rail so I wouldn’t fall.
“I’m being serious. I don’t want to look too strong or attractive—it can be off-putting to some people.” He shook his head as if exasperated by the problem. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just take my shirt off.”
“Enough, okay!”
I turned off the machine and got to the floor, panting. He was up in an instant, standing by my side and looking just as frazzled as me.
“Finally—I haven’t had to work this hard to get someone into bed since maybe the sixth grade.” I shot him a disbelieving look, and he nodded sagely. “Mariana Cabral. And she only spoke Portuguese. It was painfully difficult to communicate what I was trying to do.”
“You are freaking unbelievable.”