He was wearing nothing more than boxer shorts, his back to where Bella stood, in the middle of a routine that involved holding a free weight in each hand. He was doing squats and lunges and arm raises that made the muscles all over his body bulge and ripple and the sheen of sweat shine in the sunset glow from outside.
Bella was transfixed.
She had never,everseen a more glorious specimen of a male body. The strength in those muscles. The control of the hold in positions that had to be painful. The elegant grace with which he moved from one position to another. The attraction was enough to make Bella’s knees feel weak. She actually leaned against the doorframe as desire like none she had ever experienced stole through her body. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this but couldn’t help herself.
It was no worse than a bit of fantasy about, say, a movie star, wasn’t it? It was the realm she’d always allocated to Oliver Dawson, and it wasn’t as if she was going to do anything about it. He wouldn’t have a clue. She was quite safe while he had his back to her, and she would steal away before he could turn.
Just a few seconds more.
Bella had no idea she had been slowly licking her lips until she touched them with her fingers and found them wet.
* * *
Oliver could feel the burn in every muscle in his body, but he wasn’t going to stop. Not yet.
Not when he could see Bella reflected in that mirror through the open dressing-room door.
When he could see the way she was looking at his body.
Wantinghim.
He should be used to women looking at him like that. Maybe not in quite such an obvious fashion but Bella probably had no idea he could see her so clearly, and it was irresistible not to keep going a little longer because it was like eavesdropping on someone’s thoughts.
The way she was leaning on the wall like that, so loose limbed and relaxed, her arms bare in that singlet top and her tight jeans moulding her hips – did she have any idea how attractive a picture she made?
And when she licked her lips and then touched them… Dear God… the flame of a reciprocal desire was well and truly ignited for Oliver.
Not that he was going to act on it, of course. That would be totally inappropriate, not only because she was being employed to care for his mother but because she was so totally unlike any woman he’d ever allowed into the inner circle of his life. Whoever said that a class system didn’t exist in New Zealand had never been involved in the kind of social circle he would be a valued member of later this evening.
To choose to be with someone like Bella Graham would be a form of rebellion, and he had never done rebellion, had he?
Was that what he’d been missing out on all these years? What had propelled him prematurely into middle age?
The sun was sinking rapidly now and the light was fading more with every passing second. Any moment and Bella would realise that his workout was over and he’d turn around and she’d be busted. Any moment now and she would probably slip silently away. Exactly what she would do if she saw him start to turn around, too.
So Oliver didn’t turn around. He spoke to the reflection he could see in the mirror.
‘Was there something you wanted, Bella?’
* * *
Oh…God…
How long had Oliver known she was standing here? The embarrassment was excruciating.
‘I… um… I’m looking for your mother’s necklace. I think it must be somewhere in here.’
‘Come in, then.’ Oliver picked up a towel that had been draped over the handlebars of the treadmill. He mopped the sweat off his face and then the front of his chest. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m about to hit the shower.’
Bella tried not to watch Oliver towelling himself off. Or think about him sluicing that body with soap and water in a nearby shower. She could have scuttled back upstairs but the determination to salvage something from her day included more than finding that necklace.
She forced herself to walk closer to Oliver.
‘I’d like to apologise,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m absolutely appalled at what happened this evening. It won’t happen again, I promise.’
She looked up then, hoping she could convey the genuine message that Oliver could trust her to care for his mother.
He seemed to get it. He nodded slowly. He stepped closer to Bella.
