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“I didn’t put you through anything. I warned you the class was advanced.”
“Fine.” His lips curl in a smirk. “I thought my sweat and tears during all those exercises would have earned me something.”
I press my lips together, trying to keep from laughing. “You know what? You’re absolutely right.”
“I am?”
“Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the juice bar.”
“Oh, right.”
I lead the way out of the studio, hoping an intake of natural sugars will help him recover faster and go away. Still, I won’t deny being a little curious about his next move. I never, ever would’ve expected the Mighty Gabriel Mercer to participate in a ballet class. What is he going to pull now?
I sit at the bar on one of the high metal stools and note how MGM winces as he sits opposite me.
“For someone who owns, what, two thousand gyms, you look pretty stiff.”
“I mostly do weight training,” MGM groans.
I low whistle. “Then I predict you’re going to be sore for a couple of days. What are you having?”
MGM stares at the menu and says, “The Regenerator, please.”
Irie nods behind the counter.
I smile at the barista. “And I’ll have the Detox on the Rocks. Thank you, Irie.”
MGM raises an eyebrow at me.
“I don’t usually drink,” I explain. “And I’m still paying for every bubble of yesterday’s champagne.”
“A lightweight?” he mocks me.
“Only when it comes to drinking. So, Mr. Mercer, you still haven’t told me what you’re actually doing here.”
He makes a puppy dog face. “Are we back to formal titles? I thought making a clown of myself at least earned me being called Gabriel.”
“All right, Gabriel.” The way his name rolls off my tongue is pure lust. He must think the same because his eyes darken, our gazes interlocked. And I swear my heart is racing faster than after a million pas de chat.
Thank goodness that’s when Irie puts our drinks in front of us. I jump at the excuse to look away and take a sip from my smoothie.
When my pulse returns to a slightly more normal tempo, I dare another peek at MGM. “Why did you come?” I repeat.
A smile plays on his lips as he takes a long sip of his smoothie. “I like a challenge.”
I chuckle nervously while trying to keep an impenetrable façade. “I hope we’re still talking ballet.”
His gaze turns wolfish on me. “What else would we be discussing?”
A blush creeps up my neck as I try to ignore the heat emanating from his gaze. “Okay, well, I hope you found the class challenging enough for your tastes.”
He leans forward, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Sure was.”
I clear my throat and scoot back on my stool, trying to put some distance between us.
