Read Online Private 02 - Private Paradise by Jami Alden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jami Alden
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said. “I can't imagine how you'll disturb me.”
Still, she hesitated, and though she tried there was no hiding her discomfort. He walked over to a leg extension machine and started a set, surreptitiously watching as she seemed to draw herself up. Flashing him a tight smile, she stalked over to the line of elliptical machines that overlooked the clear blue waters of the sea. She propped what looked like an e-reader on the front, put her ear buds in and fiddled with her iPod. Within seconds, her legs and arms were pumping in a steady rhythm.
Sam's arms and legs were already twitching with exertion, but he finished his leg lifts and did three more full treadmill-pull up-push up-sit up circuits. He watched as the wispy hairs on the back of her neck curled up as the skin there got damp with sweat. He could see droplets of sweat beading on her upper back, above the scoop of her tank top and on her shoulders. He wanted to pin her to the mat and chase every single one with his tongue.
She did a good job of pretending to tune him out, but Sam could feel the heat of her gaze on him as he worked through his routine. Finally she got off the elliptical and went over to the racks of hand weights lined up against the wall.
Carla was as no nonsense about her workout as she was about everything else in her life, Sam noted as he watched her work her way through a series of exercises that targeted her arms, shoulders, and back. She treated her workout with a quiet intensity, and the sleek muscles undulating under smooth skin were evidence of her dedication.
Sam wandered over in her direction, his reflection visible in the mirrors lining the walls. Carla stared straight ahead, seemingly focused on her own form as she lunged to the side and rested her elbow on her knee for a set of bicep curls.
Sam had left his towel draped over the railing of the treadmill and he tugged the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face.
He knew Carla was watching when she let out an audible gasp. He lowered his shirt and met her shocked gaze in the mirror. She straightened up, the dumbbell momentarily forgotten in her right hand. “Oh my God, is that from a bullet?”
He knew she was referring to the thick, puckered scar that stood out white against the otherwise tanned flesh of his chest.
“ Yep. Took a hit when I was on a job in Colombia.”
Carla turned to face him and took a step toward him. The blank expression of the past week was gone as her dark brows drew together in a look of deep concern.
The same look she'd worn, he remembered, the day his father had shown up, insulted Carla, and then demanded money from Sam. Back then, it had made him feel sick to his stomach, convinced as he was that she was pitying him.
Now, it brought a rush of warmth and a pinch of regret to see the sincere concern in her eyes. For all her ball busting and type A focus on moving ahead, Carla had the same big heart and generous spirit as her cousin Chris. She'd cared about him once, and now he wanted to go back in time and kick his own ass for being too stupid to deal with the intensity of what was happening between them.
“ Was that when you were in the army?” she asked softly, her gaze lingering on the spot on his chest, though it was now covered by his shirt.
He gave a quick shake of his head. “No, it was a couple years after I started up with Argus. I was part of a team hired to protect the president of one of the oil companies and his family. There was an assassination attempt.”
“ And you jumped in front of the bullet?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with a combination what looked like horror and admiration.
Sam felt his face heat and was glad he had the excuse of the tough workout to hide his flush. “It was part of the job,” he said uncomfortably. “One I was very well paid to do.”
Her eyes flickered to his face. “I guess I can see why you needed a break. Holley Cay has its challenges, but so far no assassination
Still, she hesitated, and though she tried there was no hiding her discomfort. He walked over to a leg extension machine and started a set, surreptitiously watching as she seemed to draw herself up. Flashing him a tight smile, she stalked over to the line of elliptical machines that overlooked the clear blue waters of the sea. She propped what looked like an e-reader on the front, put her ear buds in and fiddled with her iPod. Within seconds, her legs and arms were pumping in a steady rhythm.
Sam's arms and legs were already twitching with exertion, but he finished his leg lifts and did three more full treadmill-pull up-push up-sit up circuits. He watched as the wispy hairs on the back of her neck curled up as the skin there got damp with sweat. He could see droplets of sweat beading on her upper back, above the scoop of her tank top and on her shoulders. He wanted to pin her to the mat and chase every single one with his tongue.
She did a good job of pretending to tune him out, but Sam could feel the heat of her gaze on him as he worked through his routine. Finally she got off the elliptical and went over to the racks of hand weights lined up against the wall.
Carla was as no nonsense about her workout as she was about everything else in her life, Sam noted as he watched her work her way through a series of exercises that targeted her arms, shoulders, and back. She treated her workout with a quiet intensity, and the sleek muscles undulating under smooth skin were evidence of her dedication.
Sam wandered over in her direction, his reflection visible in the mirrors lining the walls. Carla stared straight ahead, seemingly focused on her own form as she lunged to the side and rested her elbow on her knee for a set of bicep curls.
Sam had left his towel draped over the railing of the treadmill and he tugged the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face.
He knew Carla was watching when she let out an audible gasp. He lowered his shirt and met her shocked gaze in the mirror. She straightened up, the dumbbell momentarily forgotten in her right hand. “Oh my God, is that from a bullet?”
He knew she was referring to the thick, puckered scar that stood out white against the otherwise tanned flesh of his chest.
“ Yep. Took a hit when I was on a job in Colombia.”
Carla turned to face him and took a step toward him. The blank expression of the past week was gone as her dark brows drew together in a look of deep concern.
The same look she'd worn, he remembered, the day his father had shown up, insulted Carla, and then demanded money from Sam. Back then, it had made him feel sick to his stomach, convinced as he was that she was pitying him.
Now, it brought a rush of warmth and a pinch of regret to see the sincere concern in her eyes. For all her ball busting and type A focus on moving ahead, Carla had the same big heart and generous spirit as her cousin Chris. She'd cared about him once, and now he wanted to go back in time and kick his own ass for being too stupid to deal with the intensity of what was happening between them.
“ Was that when you were in the army?” she asked softly, her gaze lingering on the spot on his chest, though it was now covered by his shirt.
He gave a quick shake of his head. “No, it was a couple years after I started up with Argus. I was part of a team hired to protect the president of one of the oil companies and his family. There was an assassination attempt.”
“ And you jumped in front of the bullet?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with a combination what looked like horror and admiration.
Sam felt his face heat and was glad he had the excuse of the tough workout to hide his flush. “It was part of the job,” he said uncomfortably. “One I was very well paid to do.”
Her eyes flickered to his face. “I guess I can see why you needed a break. Holley Cay has its challenges, but so far no assassination
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