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Kelsey had a moment of choice. Leave before he noticed she was there, or be brave and pretend it didn’t matter that they’d be alone, not just in the building but in the small room.
Then the decision was made for her.
Chapter Three
In the window’s reflection, Nathan met her gaze and didn’t let it go. He seemed focused on her in a way he hadn’t been earlier.
For a wild moment, she wondered if he’d known she would head for the fitness center rather than going home. Then she shook her head to clear it. The thought was ludicrous. Even if he cared what she did, a man like Nathan Donovan wouldn’t alter his plans to spend more time with her.
She rationalized that it would be ridiculous to skip her workout just because her boss was in the same room and she’d noticed how masculine and appealing he was, so she fiddled with the settings on her phone, pretending she’d been doing that all along.
As she walked behind him, he gave a curt nod.
Maybe he wasn’t getting enough oxygen to actually speak to her. She hoped.
After stepping onto the belt, she selected her favorite workout music, a mix of pop tunes from various decades by different artists. Kelsey pretended to ignore him and her questions about whether or not he was a Dom and concentrated on pushing the correct buttons to program her machine for an interval workout. Satisfied, she pressed the green button to begin.
She started at a medium pace. Over the next few minutes, the belt went faster until she was at an easy jog.
Even though the music in her ear was loud and she was into her own workout, she could hear his feet pounding on the machine next to her, making every part of her aware of him. He set a punishing, grueling pace that she realized was most likely a metaphor for the way he approached life.
Did he ever slow down or relax? And would she ever be able to keep up?
Helpless to resist his magnetic draw, she glanced over at him.
Sweat dotted his brow, and his Donovan Worldwide T-shirt clung to his damp skin. Seemingly unaware of her, he continued to focus on the screen in front of him.
Or so she thought, until he suddenly turned his head and caught her looking at him. He captured her gaze, compelling her not to look away.
What was it about him?
Unnerved, she missed a step and had to grab the rail to steady herself.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Obviously he hadn’t missed a thing. His lack of attention had been an act.
With a half-smile, she nodded and found her stride again.
For the next few minutes, she played with the controls for the television monitor, looking for something to occupy her interest—anything to drown out the overwhelming man next to her.
She found a comedy show, and since it had captioning on, was able to immerse herself. Until he reprogrammed his machine and slowed to a walk.
His machine beeped and he hit the stop button.
He was barely breathing hard, which seemed really unfair.
Then he pulled off his shirt and wiped it across his face.
If she hadn’t been holding on, she might have misstepped again.
She’d been very much aware of his size and breadth, but until now, she hadn’t realized just how muscular and toned he was. His abs were hard and tight, and there wasn’t any excess fat on him. Everything about him, from his posture to his attitude to the state of his body, screamed restraint and discipline and, damn it, sex appeal.
He went to find sanitizer and cleaned off the machine.
Finally. She’d have the place to herself and could finish her workout in solitude.
Instead, he pulled his shirt back on before walking into the free weight area.
Because he was looking in a mirror to check his form, she was free to study his reflection.
As he bench-pressed enormous plates, she noticed the flex of each of his muscles.
Her heart rate accelerated in a way that had nothing to do with the workout. She told herself she’d never hit the gym with her boss again. He was too dangerous to her physical state.
A few minutes later, he finished his weight training. He lifted a hand in acknowledgment as he passed behind her.
She waited a few minutes to make sure he was gone before ending her workout and crossing to the locker room.
Rather than changing into her regular clothes, she toweled off then reapplied some mascara.
After pulling on a lightweight jacket and slinging her bag over her shoulder, she grabbed her purse and exited into the hallway.
Nathan Donovan stood there, arms folded, leaning against the wall, waiting for her.
She stopped so quickly that her bag slipped to her forearm.
Quickly, he took two steps toward her to readjust it.
“I… That’s not necessary.” And because he raised an eyebrow, she added, “But thank you.”
With her in tennis shoes instead of heels, he loomed even taller, broader. He’d showered, if his damp hair and the scent of the woods after a rain were anything to go by. And he looked devastating. He wore a crisp, white, long-sleeved shirt, with the top two buttons open. His slacks were gray, and his shoes had a mirror-like polish. The addition of a buttery leather bomber jacket was enough to make her weak.
