Ramping Up

by Zoe Dawson

  I introduced Crystal and logged in to my laptop to do some work while they talked. I was so hyperaware of Gunner it was difficult to keep my mind on what I was doing, not to mention I was gritting my teeth every time Crystal touched him (too much) or smiled at him and he responded (so unprofessional).

  After about an hour of this, I was on my last nerve. The doorbell rang, and I jumped up immediately. “That’s the personal trainer,” I said, and Gunner frowned.

  Crystal rose and handed him her card. “Call me if you have questions. Any at all.” She made it clear that it was suggestive.

  I just barely kept myself from rolling my eyes and was happy to usher her out the door and usher Justin in. He was one of the best in the business—I used him often for my athletes.

  “Hey, Helena,” he said, smiling. I introduced him to Gunner.

  “Just a minute,” Gunner said, and pulled me out of earshot.

  “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. But I don’t need a nutritionist and trainer. I’ve got this covered. I have been surfing and training for years. I don’t need anyone.” His tone of voice was flat and cool, with just a slight edge of pique.

  There was a strained little pause, then I said, perceptive softness in my voice, “I understand, but you could benefit from an overall analysis, and there is value in learning new things you might not have known before.” His forearm was rock hard when I touched him. I was determined he would be at his best in all respects. “It’s all about winning and what we need to get the win. I intend to launch you this summer and by fall you will be on your way. But competing, although it’s in a similar sport, is going to be taxing on your mind and body.”

  He looked away as if he was fighting some kind of inner demon, and my grip on his arm tightened. I had the strangest urge to just pull him into my arms.

  “I know how to handle the stress.” He took a breath, shifting his stance and effectively pulling his arm out of my grasp. “What I don’t need is for you to make every decision for me without my consent. I really can handle this by myself.”

  “Gunner, I’m just asking you to talk to Justin and go through his workout.” I captured his gaze and his chin came up, a sure indication that he was going to debate the issue. I pushed through his barriers with my eyes and my voice. “He’s worked with my other athletes, and they’ve increased their performance by leaps and bounds. You’ve got to get into fighting shape…” He opened his mouth, and I cut him off. “In skateboarding.”

  Gunner exhaled heavily, his profile hard. He shook his head, then I could see when he gave in. “All right, but in the future, I want you to consult me before you make these decisions.” His mouth clamped into a thin line.

  “I’m sorry. I thought it would be a natural progression, and you did turn yourself over to me,” I pointed out, unsure why he was so upset about this.

  “Helena? Is everything okay?”

  It was clear from Justin’s look that he thought Gunner was way too intense. I smiled to reassure him and then said, “We good?”

  “We’re on the same page,” Gunner growled, and the two of them went off to the weight room.

  I got down to the work of setting up a video shoot for Gunner to promote Quickdraw. It was a good move on the heels of the explosive video of him, which was still gaining more and more hits each day. Gunner and I also needed to sit down and map out a strategic plan for him to get ready for competition. He had just less than a month before the first LSJ competition.

  An hour and a half later, Justin came out of the weight room. “He’s on his last set.”

  “And?”

  “Kid’s got staying power in his arms and legs,” he said with a smile as we walked toward the front door.

  “So he’s in good shape for competition?”

  He smiled and stepped closer. “Not quite. When you watch a skateboarder, you’ll notice that he is basically trying to hold his body rigid in space against opposing centrifugal force and momentum. The muscles he uses don’t work through a full range of motion during riding. Instead, they need to be as strong as possible in a very specific part of their range.”

  “What do you think would be best to work on?” I asked, stepping back. Justin was giving off those male vibes that meant he was interested.

  “Surfing is good for leg development, but he could benefit from strengthening his calves. For skating, they’re primary.”

  “He’s only been skating for fun, not competition.”

  “I’ve given him a routine to build muscle in the areas he needs it, and I’ve advised him to work his quads, hams, lower back, and abs. He has really good muscle in his traps from all the paddling. His hip muscles are stellar from all the surfing. And like surfing, skateboarding is all about torso rotations. With the kind of muscle he has, he’s going to perform explosive jumps and rotations. I’d like to see him in action.”

  I snagged my phone and pulled up the video. “Watch this.”

  He cupped his big hand around my phone and held it steady as he looked down. Before Gunner, I might have been interested. Justin had nice, big hands and he was so built. But now all I could think about was the way Gunner’s skin felt beneath my palm, how his mouth pressed against mine, his lips so skilled and soft. Justin’s reaction wasn’t much different from my dad’s. He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Damn, he makes it look effortless. His balance is off the charts. Amazing. Also, his ability to make adjustments is fantastic. I see him doing great things.”

  “Thanks, Justin. Exactly what I expected.” He didn’t remove his hand at the end of the video.

  “When is his first competition?”

  I pulled away and shut down my phone. “About three weeks away.”

  “I’ll figure out a better plan for him with that in mind.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  He leaned in and lowered his voice. “How about dinner sometime?”

  Justin was handsome, built, funny, and down-to-earth. He was also not off-limits. And, if it had been yesterday, I would have said yes. Enthusiastically.

  But it wasn’t yesterday. It was the day after I had kissed Gunner.

  Gunner, who had heard what Justin asked as he cleared the doorway to the weight room, looking hot and sweaty, sucked down water, his throat working. He stopped drinking, also waiting for my answer. I smiled softly to lessen the blow. “Thanks, but I’ve got a full schedule, especially since signing a couple of new athletes. Maybe some other time.”

  Gunner started drinking again.

  Justin looked disappointed, but he simply nodded. He hadn’t noticed Gunner standing there. “He’s going to be sore. He should skip any hardcore lifting tomorrow, and I’ll be back Wednesday.” Turning, he spotted Gunner and waved. “Later, bro.”

  “Later,” Gunner said.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Well?” I asked, in a digging sort of way.

  “Okay,” he grumbled with a self-deprecating laugh. “The guy had some good ideas. And he definitely put me through my paces.”

  “So he taught an old dog some new tricks?” He walked toward me with that powerful, loose-hipped saunter of his, smiling that devilish smile. I didn’t know if I should run away or toward him. “Who you calling old, McHotstuff? I think you have a couple years on me.”

  “Don’t you know that a man should never ask a woman her age or her weight?”

  Gunner stopped and grinned at me, tipping his head to one side. “I already got the weight down, remember? A buck ten.”

  I held my position, a smile lifting the corners of my mouth. “So you did, smarty-pants. I’m just making the observation that Justin will whip you into shape.”

  He stepped closer, a glint in his eyes, his brows arched. “You think I’m out of shape?”

  “No,” I said, feeling as if the room had just heated to about 110 degrees. “Just a turn of phrase.”

  The glint in his eyes turned into a wicked gleam. “You don’t doubt that I have muscle, right?”

&n
bsp; I had seen him in a towel, and that was a strong-enough visual to make my knees melt, but he must have taken my silence for a yes answer because he raised his arm and flexed his biceps in a muscle-man pose. “Feel it,” he said with a smirk on his face. “Hard as a rock.”

  My mouth went dry and butterflies tumbled around in my stomach. Touching him was out of the question. “I’ll take your word for it.” I stepped back, but he lunged forward, grabbing my wrist, bringing me up against him, and setting my palm over the bulge. A thick, hard handful of hot man, his muscle encased in smooth, velvet skin. Touching him gave me so many ideas, and they piled up on top of the ideas I already had, long before I had touched him.

  Determined not to let him see how he affected me, I held my ground. “I’ve felt better,” I said, my tone dry.

  “Have you?” His gaze intensified as he continued to smile at me. His dark hair was mussed and damp across his forehead, and he smelled of sweat and whatever bodywash he’d used this morning, like hot chocolate, amber, and red peppercorn. He held my gaze, the expression in his eyes softening, becoming a little warmer, a little more intimate. When he finally spoke, his voice was oddly husky. “I guess I’m going to have to work hard to make you forget every single muscled guy before me.”

  “Dial down the charm, Skater Boy, and get to work,” I said, stepping back. But there was no snap to my voice.

  “You got it, boss. One hard-driving competitor coming up.” He left the hallway and I followed him into the kitchen. He went to the fridge, grabbing another water bottle, and then wandered out the back door.

  I really had no reason to stay. I had appointments all afternoon and a San Diego Wildcats player, Tate McCall, to try and entice into joining Mavrick. And tonight I had a fundraiser and a birthday dinner for a hockey player and a shortstop for the San Diego Warriors, respectively. A full schedule.

  But instead of getting into my car and heading to work, I slipped out the sliding glass door and watched him test out the course, performing some rudimentary tricks, nothing fancy. Just warming up. But even warming up he was too sexy.

  After about fifteen minutes, he started to get more daring, soaring over the stairs, grinding the rail with heart-squeezing tricks that he nailed almost every time. When he did fall, he got back up, flashed me a grin, and did it again.

  He was heading for the rail and did a backside 360 to front-side noseblunt slide, a very difficult trick. I was sure he would land it, too, when all of a sudden, a small, fully padded little kid on a skateboard rolled out of nowhere, right where Gunner needed to drop.

  My pulse jumped as Gunner spotted the kid, bailing early to avoid him. Hitting the pavement hard, his board shot off and clipped the little trespasser, knocking him down as well.

  Before the kid even landed, Gunner was already up and racing for his body as the kid hit against a short wall, something white shooting out and bouncing along with the kid as he rolled. I rushed forward, my heels clicking on the concrete.

  “Hey, buddy?” Gunner crouched down. “Are you all right?” My heart raced and contracted all at the same time. Racing because I was worried for the kid and contracting at the sound of deep concern laced with gentleness in Gunner’s voice as he turned the kid over.

  “I’m sorry, mister. I didn’t see you.” It wasn’t a boy’s voice, I realized, as the little girl pulled off her helmet to reveal a cascade of blond curls, one earbud hanging down and her MP3 player smashed into pieces not far from her. “This place has been empty for a long time.”

  There was momentary surprise on Gunner’s face, and then he smiled slightly. “Let’s not worry about that right now, sweetheart. Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so.” Her eyes widened, her lips trembling, she gasped. “You are, though.” She pointed at his elbow.

  “Gunner,” I said softly, noting right away that it was a serious gash. “It looks like you need stitches. We better take you in.”

  “All right.” He clasped her under her arms and rose, lifting her to her feet. “But let’s get you up and make sure everything is intact,” he murmured.

  He winced slightly, and I hoped that his elbow wasn’t fractured.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said, sniffling back tears as Gunner brushed her off with his good arm.

  “It’s okay. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  She took a step and winced. “Oh no, my ankle.”

  “We’d better get you to your parents.”

  “They’re at work. I had a half day at school, and I wasn’t supposed to leave the house until they got home. I’m toast.”

  “We’ll take her with us and call them. Do you have their number, honey?” I asked.

  She nodded, looking terrified. “My mom’s going to kill me.”

  We found out the little girl’s name was Kim and called her mom as I drove to the hospital. She arrived as we waited in Emergency, hugging the little girl while also apologizing for her trespassing. She said she had no idea that Kim had been skating there. Gunner smoothed it over, and my heart melted at the way he told her that she was going to be great if she kept practicing. Before she left for her X-ray, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  I went with Gunner to the exam room to wait for the doctor. “How is it?” I asked, bending down to get a better look.

  “It hurts,” he said, bending down to get into my face. “You’re pretty when you’re worried about me.”

  “I’m worried about winning. You can’t do that with a broken elbow.”

  “Sure, you are. Good dodge. I think you should kiss it and make it all better.”

  “I think you should be more serious.”

  “Oh,” he said, softly. “I’m as serious as a heart attack.”

  I knew he wasn’t talking about his elbow.

  —

  Luckily the bone wasn’t broken, and the gash was shallow, but the cut still needed butterflies to close it, and it was several hours before we were done. The doctor provided him with a prescription for the pain and said he should take it easy for the next few days.

  After calling in and canceling my appointments, I took him home and made his lunch, making sure he took the pain medication.

  As I was putting coffee cups in the dishwasher, he came up behind me, setting his empty plate inside. I nearly dropped the cup I was holding. He didn’t touch me, but I could feel the heat from his body, and sensations washed through me, making my body tighten and hum. He was too close. Too close and I wanted to kiss him all day.

  He leaned against the counter, watching me.

  Striving to keep my voice normal, I lifted my chin toward the stairs. “I think you should lie down. When that medication kicks in, you’re going to feel it.”

  “I’m feeling something right now, and it has nothing to do with pills.”

  His tone set off such a reaction in me that I braced my hands against the counter for support and closed my eyes again, trying to manage my feelings. I heard him move and then felt his fingers running along my jaw, turning my face toward him. When I opened my eyes, I saw his expression was serious, his eyes dark and intent. “Come on, Lena,” he whispered. “I can’t fight it either.”

  Held transfixed by the intimacy of his touch, I stared at him, my insides balling up into a wad of longing and dread.

  My system overloaded, and I reached up and cupped his jaw, running my thumb over the fading bruise there, then leaning in and kissing it. It was so early in the war and I was already losing this battle with myself. I sighed.

  He stared at me, his expression strained. I was such a fool, but I went ahead and did it anyway. Then he tipped my face up and slowly lowered his head, and I made a helpless sound and let my eyes drift shut, sliding my hand around the back of his neck. Such a big mistake—I was so instantly lost in the warmth of his skin, the feel of his soft hair. Slowly, he covered my mouth with his, and the deep, penetrating kiss drove every ounce of strength out of my body—so hot, so soft, erotically male.

  He tasted so good, m
ore than any man had a right to, and I couldn’t decide if it was because it felt so, so real or because it was forbidden. I melted up against him, my body molding to all that hard-packed muscle, and it was such a turn-on. If my dad saw me now, he would be giving me a lecture about keeping my eye on the ball. But the closer I got to him, the more I wanted. Skirting the edge of the rules wasn’t like me. I seemed to be helpless around Gunner.

  Okay, this kiss wasn’t nearly mindless enough. I was thinking too much with this exquisitely hot and gorgeous man with his arms wrapped around me. I was thinking I should stop before I did something I was sure right down to my last female hormone I was going to love.

  But then he opened his mouth wider, pressed himself closer, and my resolve did a nosedive. He slid his hand over the curve of my ass and pulled me against his thick erection and all I wanted to do was move my hand to his waistband and slip inside to stroke all that hot, hard heat.

  I groaned at the thought of caressing him, hearing him make all those tantalizing, deep male gasping and groaning sounds when a woman had her way with him, taking him to completion either with her body or her hand or—my whole body went liquid—with her mouth.

  I was afraid this man was in my blood to stay, and my will to fight was dying in the heat of his kiss.

  Chapter 9

  Gunner

  I woke up groggy and feeling out of sorts, sporting a throbbing hard-on for Lena. The way she’d kissed me yesterday afternoon jacked me up all over again. I wasn’t quite fully awake when my cell rang, and I answered it without checking the display.

  “Gunner?”

  “Yes, who’s this?”

  “It’s Ray. You forgot about me already?”

  It was more that he’d forgotten about me until I had become a hot commodity. Now that Mavrick had me, I had potential. I had discovered that Ray was opportunistic without substance. So different from Lena. I hadn’t a say in choosing the agent initially—my dad had handled all of that. But I had a say now. A sexy, caring Lena with integrity trumped this dude big-time.

  “What’s up, Ray?”