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Chapter One
Ryker
I work my body as hard as I can, for as long as I can. That’s the way it always is, the way it has to be.
I push the bar until I feel like my muscles are going to burst out of my skin, my arms taut and tight, every muscle twitching.
Finally, I return the bar to the bracket and sit up, wipe down my face with a towel and let out a shaky sigh.
The gym is quiet this early in the morning, with a few other fitness fanatics pumping weights or sprinting on the treadmill. I’ve got a home gym in my apartment, of course, but there’s something about being in a real gym that reminds me of when I first started.
This gym is especially important to me. It’s the one used when I started to take my job seriously.
Before the money. Before the minor fame.
Before the years caused me to look back and realize I still haven’t found anyone.
I stand up with a shaky grim laugh, quiet under my breath. It’s not like I’ve been looking for anyone, so that’s an absurd thought to come into my mind. I don’t know why it keeps returning to me lately when it never did before.
I’ve spent my life building up a successful fitness-instructor business, probably the most successful fitness-instructor business if you look at my resumé.
I’ve worked with countless stars and been on set for innumerable Hollywood productions. I’ve established and worked with several charities. I’ve made myself a millionaire with my workouts.
Walking across the gym toward the water fountain, I try to make myself feel the shining pride that so many others would at these achievements. But lately, as I walk around my large empty apartment, I feel a strange pang in my chest.
It took me a while to work out what it was, several weeks of delving inside of myself – something I rarely do – until I could finally brand the unusual feeling with a name.
Loneliness, goddamn loneliness, which is something I’ve never experienced. I’ve always been able to function like a lone wolf when I need to, focused on setting my body on fire with workouts, traveling from the East Coast to the West to help movie stars hone their bodies, hanging out with friends, or visiting mom and dad in Spain, their home for the past decade.
I’ve always had projects, with my charity work, interviews, and three books.
But at forty-three years old – though my body still feels lean and fit and ready for anything – my mind feels drained, hungry for a counterpart to share all this with.
And there’s the problem, right there.
I’ve never felt anything for a woman, any woman.
I’ve never even come close to experiencing the rumbling thunder I’d need to make a woman mine, to possess her completely and totally, to own every inch of her skin and her soul, to forge a future together and—
“Excuse me.” A woman’s voice cuts through the flow of my thoughts. “Are you done with that?”
I turn to find a tall athletic woman staring up at me. She’s probably in her mid-twenties. I note in an academic sort of way that she’s the sort of woman other men might find attractive.
She’s got dyed blonde hair in a tight bun, and yoga gear meant to show off her gym honed body. And she’s looking at me in that way women sometimes do, as though they’d be willing to come back to my place with nothing more than a head nod.
I wave a hand at the water fountain. I’ve just been standing here, lost in thought, without even realizing it.
“Sure, go ahead.”
I move to walk past her, but she takes a quick step to the side, into my path. “I just wanted to say...I saw the way you were going at it over there. And I was wondering if you could give me some pointers?”
Reaching into my pocket, I take out a business card.
I always keep a few on me, just in case, even though my wait list is crazy long these days.
“Sure, you can call my office.”
She reaches for the card, moving just a little too close, grazing my hand. I withdraw mine quickly once she’s taken the card. I’m not sure if she did it on purpose, but I’m not interested in her. There’s not even a passing whisper of interest.
“I was thinking…” She gestures with the card, her cheeks turning red, as though she’s not used to this reaction from men. “We could maybe have a session now? I could find a way to repay you.”
She puts emphasis on the word repay, leaving me with no doubt about what she means. I know this would be some men’s wildest fantasy, but it leaves me cold, feeling distant because I don’t want to claim my forever woman like this.
