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"Of Jaxon Hayes. You just said his name."
"I said the name because it's on the mail here."
Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open. "Jaxon lives here? Do you think it's actually the pop star Jaxon Hayes? Like Grammy award winning, played on the radio all day long Jaxon Hayes? Please tell me you know who I'm talking about."
I shrug. "We don't play much pop music at the gym. The name sounds familiar, but I can't name one of his songs."
"Stars in your Eyes, Play me all Night Long, Lick me like you mean it? You haven't heard any of those songs?"
"Maybe…" I head out of the kitchen. There has to be paper in this house somewhere.
"Don't you listen to music on your own time?"
"I listen to NPR when I'm driving around town and, when I'm home, I like the quiet."
She laughs. "You are such a nerd. It can't be the famous Jaxon Hayes who lives here, right? He's a bit odd according to the gossip rags, but so hot."
That stops me in my tracks. "Hotter than me?"
Her smile widens as she looks me over from head to toe. "He's a world-famous singer and musician. It's not a comparison."
That gets my blood boiling. Clover is hotter than any superstar in the world, because she's real. She's right here and she's so full of energy and surprises. "You didn't answer the question."
She rolls her eyes. "Honestly, Aldridge. Big muscley guys aren't even my type."
I stalk towards her. "Then why can't you keep your hands off me whenever we're alone together?"
She throws her hands up. "I wish I knew, okay? It must be pheromones or something. Objectively looking at you, I feel nothing."
I pull my damp shirt over my head and take off the heartrate monitor wrapped around my chest. "Really? Looking at me doesn't make your heart beat faster? Prove it. Show me your heart rate monitor."
She holds out her wrist and shows me the number on her watch. She's still got it set to the heart rate screen and her heart is pumping along at a sedate 58 beats per minute.
Unbelievable.
I flex my arms, popping my biceps, and spin in a circle. 60 beats.
What the hell?
I'm seriously starting to feel like I've got this all wrong. Has her reaction to me just been a case of any man who's available to fill a need?
Then I look at her face. Her gaze is on my torso, her eyes are molten, and there's obvious hunger in every line of her expression.
"You don't like anything about the way I look?" I squeeze my ab muscles to make them pop and push the waist band of my pants down to reveal my hipbones.
"Not even a little bit," she says, her voice husky.
I swallow my smile. "You'd rather have some hipster with purple hair in your bed?"
"Aha." She points at me. "You do know who he is."
"It came back to me. I read a celebrity blog when I'm bored at work."
She's laughing now, shaking her head. "You are so weird. You don't listen to music, but you read a celebrity gossip blog?"
"Can we focus on the question here? You're telling me you don't find me remotely attractive, right?" I run my hands over my torso and pause on the waist band of my pants.
She licks her lips and my cock goes rock hard in an instant. "Right. Not even remotely." She tucks loose hair behind her ear and I inwardly cheer. I've got this woman all figured out. And she wants me, whether she wants to or not.
