her and the door. “The place is a
thousand square feet,” he 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.
thousand square feet,” he 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.
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