Julia pulled her hands from his leg, noting the nice taper to his straight toes. When he stood and wandered to the window, Julia also stood and picked up her mug on the way into the kitchen.
Whoa. Her head did a few silly things before it righted. Julia laughed at herself but couldn’t deny this forced relaxation felt good. Without it, she’d be stressing over her lack of a job. Or the reality that she was going to have to downgrade her living situation if she stayed in San Francisco. Or hammering herself for having morals instead of jumping this guy. Now, she just wanted another big mug of hot chocolate. Correction—spiked hot chocolate.
She looked through cabinets until she found the cocoa and liquor. This time, she decided to go with Bailey’s Irish Cream. She mixed her cocoa and milk, popped it in the microwave, and started straightening up, putting all Noah’s toxic food back into his cupboards. She certainly didn’t have the will, interest, or patience to force a man as stubborn as Noah to change his eating habits.
Noah’s business conversation grew complicated with contract lingo and royalty percentages, then heated over timelines and payouts. When he finally wandered in from the family room, Julia was through her second mug of cocoa and had the kitchen halfway reconstructed.
“You’re a complicated man,” she said, echoing his earlier words to her and sliding cans of soup back into the pantry in perfect rows. “I like that. So many athletes can be one-dimensional, you know? Boring.”
He didn’t respond, and when she turned around to search for more soup cans, she found him sniffing her mug.
“Hey,” she said, “that’s mine.”
“Bailey’s? You’re like me last night. One slip, and you’re bouncing off the wagon.” He grinned and set the mug down. “Be careful. Doesn’t feel so good when you hit the ground.”
To acknowledge his dig at her buzzed state, she deliberately picked up the mug, took a deep swallow of yumminess, and grinned at him.
His laugh transitioned into a groan. “I sure could use a good buzz right now. But since the fascist is hovering, I’m going to work out instead. Do you need anything before I head into the gym?”
She leaned her hip into the island and took her mug in both hands. “Nope. I’m perfect.”
He chuckled, reached out, and brushed a wayward strand of hair off her face. “You might be if you weren’t going to pass out in about ten minutes.”
“Oh no. In ten minutes, I’m going to have this place back to the way I found it…minus, of course, the food in your trash cans. But you didn’t need that crap anyway. And I might even get creative with what you’ve got left to make us the least harmful dinner possible. It’ll be tough, but I love testing my limits.”
He shook his head, his grin growing wider. “Man, you’re cute when you’re buzzed.” Desire shadowed his eyes as he heaved a sigh. “And I definitely need a workout.”
That one look of raw lust did things to Julia’s body she hadn’t felt in what seemed like eons. When he turned for the stairs, she scanned his backside, shoulders to calves, and let out a long, slow sigh before downing another healthy swallow of chocolate and Bailey’s. Only after he’d turned out of sight did she whisper, “Yum.”
Then she shook off the growing sizzle of need and refocused on the kitchen, and found the mess didn’t bother her as much now. Maybe she needed to drink more often. She loved this laid-back, easy feeling. And as she started to rearrange the cupboards to replace the food on the counters, even the sight of boxed instant white rice, instant mashed potatoes, and instant pasta only made her shake her head—things that would normally have disgusted her.
But halfway through organizing the first cupboard, her sense of wrongness wouldn’t be denied. Julia had nurtured her share of ignorance during her successful years, when everyone around her was too worried about upsetting her to tell her the truth—about her sponsorships, about her rehab potential, about Duncan. Their silence had caused her far more suffering than the truth ever would have, not to mention the continued hardship. Their silence had changed the course of her entire life.
She would never be part of that silent circle for any other athlete. But neither could she force Noah to see how he was hurting himself.
When Julia had the kitchen back together, she picked up her mug and finished off her third cocoa—this one laced with Kahlua. At the sink, she hand-washed her mug, singing to “Burn It to the Ground,” and set the cup out to dry on a kitchen towel.
When she looked up, she could see the lights of the gym glowing to the left. The space had floor-to-ceiling double-paned and insulated windows facing the pool. Earlier today, that had been her view during her run. That and the lake’s west shore in the distance. Now, Julia had a perfect view of Noah working out—almost as naked as she’d seen him that morning in nothing but gym shorts. Tonight, he had on socks and running shoes.
She sighed, rested her elbows on the counter, and watched him doing sit-ups on the crunch bench. With his ankles held in place, hands clasped behind his head, he lay back on the bench, which reclined toward the floor for full abdominal extension, then pulled himself upright and forward until he was bent in half.
Julia lost track of time as she watched all that taut muscle flex and roll. With her chin in her hand, she ran her thumb over her lower lip, wondering what his mouth would feel like on hers. How would he taste? What kind of kisser would he be?
Those thoughts, in combination with the sight of that sculpted body, made her restless. Fantasies of exploring all those muscles whipped up a fire low in her belly. One that spread to heat her skin and swell her breasts. One that created an ache deep between her legs, an emptiness that needed filling.
What difference would it make if she slept with him? What harm could one night do? He wasn’t her client, and she was leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would return to Sunrise Manor until she found a better opportunity. And at her level, the therapists currently in those jobs guarded them closely.
The realization she’d soon be begging for her old job back an
d dealing with the likes of Dorothy and Paul until her dream job opened up didn’t exactly give Julia the big green light to go after Noah. But it did dim the blaring red light she’d imposed on herself from that first spark of attraction.
“Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine…” Noah bunched his muscles and pulled himself into the last sit-up of this set, took a minute to catch his breath, then moved to the weight bench nearby. He sat and used a towel to wipe the sweat from his face.
Linkin Park screamed “Castle of Glass,” and Noah closed his eyes, soaking in the escape only good music at one hundred decibels could provide. But behind his closed lids, his mind created images of Julia—her smile, her dark hair, her ass, those beautifully shaped legs…
Sweat slid over his chest and dribbled down the middle of his abdomen, following the valley between his abs. Noah swiped at it and added weight to the bar. It was his only option next to a cold shower or making a snow angel in the powder—naked.
When he turned to lie flat on the bench, the door to the gym opened, and Julia walked in, sipping from a clear bottle. She’d tied her hair up into a messy knot again and stripped down to skintight tank and leggings, leaving little to the imagination, though Noah would still like to get a look at the real thing. No, she didn’t have Samantha’s body. Julia was all toned and tough, a juicy steak to Samantha’s cotton candy. And Noah had definitely been indulging in too much sugar for too