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Several of the participants hang back to chat or ask questions. I love this aspect of the job. I’ve always been social, going from conversation to conversation, like a butterfly flitting between flowers, as my mom used to say. But tonight, I’m a littledistracted. My eyes keep wandering to the door, where I spotted a man earlier. He’s gone now but in the quick glimpse I’d gotten, he looked familiar.
When everyone has left, I walk out of the studio with Gwen. She’s one of my regulars, a recent empty-nester who joined for the social connection as much as the exercise. We’re gabbing about the latest celebrity gossip when I see the man again. I recognize him clearly this time. Leo Foster. Strange that he’s here, but not in an unpleasant way.
He’s standing near the reception desk, his shoulder against the wall and his arms crossed over his broad chest. He sees me then too, and straightens. As if the gods of beauty had gifted him with extra sprinkles of dust, he’s even better looking in person, with all that dark, perfectly coiffed hair that beckons to be mussed.
“Ooh.” Gwen murmurs in appreciation, her green eyes darting between him and me in two rapid rounds. Even though we’re a good ten feet away from where he’s hogging his fair share of space, she leans in to whisper in my right ear. The lightning bolt tattoo behind my lobe serves as a reminder that it’s the only ear I can hear from. “Who. Is. That?”
“The gym owner of F.!.T., you know the one on Farrow Street?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve passed it. Maybe I should check it out.”
“Traitor.” I playfully swat her arm.
“I would only go for the show,” she assures me with an amused smile. “So, what’s he doing here?”
“No idea.” I shrug, just as curious.
“Should I stay just in case? Show him what I can do with all this new muscle.” She flexes her bare arm, making me laugh.
Gwen, like me, is comfortable in her plus-size body; and in class, she puts it all out there, truly embodying, “dance like no one’s watching.”
“I think I’ll be fine. But thanks for the offer.” Her caution is understandable, considering his imposing form. I read in his bio that he used to be a defenseman for the Concordia Stingers, and he must take his weight lifting seriously, judging by the muscular arms and shoulders beneath his navy dri-fit jacket.
“Are you sure?” she asks, eyeing him up again.
“Yes. You get home to John,” I say, referring to her husband. “And I’ll see you tomorrow. Great job today.”
“You make it great.” She gives me a big hug, which I happily return.
I’m friendly with the members, getting to know them and their lives. I realize the general rule in business is to maintain some personal distance, but that’s not who I am.
Gwen slides on her jacket and Mr. F.!.T. gallantly holds the door open for her. She gives me a final wave and a wink before heading out.
“Leo Foster.” I approach. At five-six, I have to tilt my head back to meet those slate grey eyes, surrounded by a fringe of thick black lashes. “It’s a pleasure.” I extend my hand, mentally tracing a finger over his strong jawline that’s covered in a trim beard and a sensuous mouth that’s sloped in a slight frown. “I’m Jazz Legend.”
He looks down at my hand, and for the briefest moment, hesitates before taking it. The contact is nothing short of electric, sending a sizzle of heat through my body. His large palm on mine is firm, warm, and calloused. He doesn’t move or make a sound. Only his gaze flickers to my lips, and I can feel the edgy tension radiating from him that mirrors my own. Attraction with a capital A, and it runs both ways.
I just want to kiss the hell out of him. And be kissed back. Find out what his mouth tastes like…feels like. Does he kiss hard and rough or linger soft and slow? Does he groan as hegoes deeper or is he the strong, silent type? Lusty minds want to know.
I’ve been so focused for the last eight months on getting Fab Fitness up and running, that I haven’t had time for a romantic relationship or even a fling. I’ve been too busy to ponder what I’ve been missing. A man’s touch. This man’s touch. On me. All over me. But just as my musings are heating up, right along with the tingling between my legs, he pulls his hand away and clears his throat.
“I’d like to discuss an important matter with you.”
“Oh?” That catches me off guard. “What is it?”
“Are you serious?” he snaps. “I found a bunch of your pink flyers all over my parking lot. You realize that’s a blatant violation of the municipal code, right? You can’t just go around slapping your ads on private property without permission.”
I’m stunned by his outburst. “Yes, of course, I know that but?—”
“Then why in hell did you do it?” The vein in his forehead starts pulsating like a mini volcano. “Are you so desperate for business that you don’t care about breaking the law, or are you just reckless?”
I bite my tongue, holding back a snippy retort. Instead, I take a deep breath and pinch my fingers together, slowly dragging them down from my forehead to my chin.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Centering myself,” I reply calmly. “Perhaps you should try it.”
He gives me a death stare.
