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‘I’m not hungry. I had breakfast three hours ago.’
‘But we’ve established that hunger doesn’t dictate whether we eat. So, let’s take a seat and you can tuck in.’
Her eyes flicker toward Steve Sitwell and I know she’ll agree.
‘Fine. They look delicious.’
I follow Izzy, Steve, and my breakfast back to their table, and I’m forced to swallow my drool as I watch Izzy eat my perfectly poached eggs, while Steve interviews us about our plans for each other.
* * *
After lunch – if you can call a plate of cucumber and arugula lunch – my grizzly has been sufficiently tamed for me to tackle my first workout session with Izzy.
We’re in Studio A, the dance studio where Izzy filmed herSalsa Yourself SlimDVD. It’s a decent-sized space, with a wall of windows and three walls of mirrors, meaning it’s bright and uplifting. In part due to the light, in part because there are so many Brookses reflected in this room. Izzy doesn’t seem to find that entertaining when I say it aloud.
Izzy is standing at the head of the room, flicking through tracks on her iPhone. Satisfied, she sets it in the dock and Latin music fills the room.
I stand in the middle of the space in my shorts and T-shirt, wondering what on earth I am going to be doing.
‘My plan is to show you some basic moves today; then, because I’m only allowed to follow your workout plan, you’ll have to use my YouTube videos. I spoke to Charlie and she’s getting a projector in here for you.’
You spoke to my staff?I bite my tongue, literally. ‘Great. Let’s get going, then.’
‘Not so fast, bulldog. You need to stretch. Arms up.’
Following her lead, I stretch out my core, my arms raised above my head. But when she folds from her waist to touch her toes, my testosterone gets the better of me. I stare unashamedly at her Lycra-clad ass, thinking how much I would like to get my hands on those cheeks.
‘Brooks, seriously, focus!’
Oh, she’s hot and she knows it.
I bend to touch my toes. Once the stretching is done, Izzy comes to my side and shows me some basic salsa steps. I watch her first as she steps forward and back, her hips rolling with each move. I don’t have to imagine how good she’d be in bed because she’s showing me all her moves. My hands ache to take hold of her waist and pull her to me.
A cough at the doorway steals my attention and forces my lascivious thoughts back into their cage. Steve Sitwell is standing on the threshold with a lady I don’t recognize.
‘You don’t mind if we sit in, do you? This is Elaine. She’s fromDiet and Fitness Magazine.’
Elaine looks short next to Steve, perhaps because he’s so tall. She holds up a hand as a quick greeting.
‘I’d like to get some shots of you training, make a few notes. Kerry sent me along. We would like to run an article in the magazine about your competition.’
It seems bizarre that there is interest in this. Perhaps they can already see that these fourteen days in Izzy’s company are likely to end in murder, and definitely blue balls, but I’m hoping that’s not so obvious.
The music gets going and Izzy tries to incorporate the few steps she has shown me into a routine. I feel like the biggest dick in the world – in a bad way. Seemingly, if it isn’t running or team sports, I have two left feet. Try putting two left feet, rigid hips, and no clue what I’m supposed to be doing to a Latin beat. You’ve got the image. It’s like King fucking Kong stopping in the middle of city destruction to do a badly coordinated Riverdance. At one point, I’m fairly certain Elaine snickers.
‘This is ridiculous. How much longer do I have to do it? I haven’t even worked up a sweat.’
Izzy clicks off the music. ‘We’ll go through it one more time. The reason you’re not sweating is because you’re overthinking. If you forget the steps, just keep moving. It’s a great workout for your core and legs, as well as cardio. You just need to stop hating for long enough to actually work out.’
She misses the roll of my eyes as she turns back to the music dock.
‘From the top.’
Grrrr!
* * *
Standing in front of the mirrors in the weights section of the gym, I don’t have enough fingers to count the pairs of male eyes watching Izzy.
