HOW TO BE THE PERFECT GIRLFRIEND

by Heather MacAllister

  "What are you wearing?" Hayden stared at her.

  Not this again. "We're at a gym. I'm wearing gym clothes." Sara gestured to her baggy T-shirt and stretch shorts.

  After the bar fiasco, Missy had offered to take them to the ritzy gym where her fiancé, Peter, worked out. Apparently, stressed out lawyers liked to work out there and lawyers, stressed out or not, fit Sara's ideal man profile. Sara wondered if they were capable of the complete devotion she required, but Missy had responded to her query with a huffy little, "Peter is completely devoted to me" and Sara figured it wasn't worth arguing the point.

  "I've got your guest passes…" Missy trailed off when she saw Sara. "What's she wearing?" she asked Hayden.

  "Workout clothes! Aren't we working out?" Sara gestured to the machines.

  Missy, dressed in a too-cute pink and white tennis outfit, shook her head. "No. You'll, like, sweat."

  "Well, yeah."

  "That might not be a bad thing." Hayden wore black thigh-length, skin-tight shorts with a sports bra top accented with neon pink and orange. She was in full makeup. She even had on earrings. "Some men like a sweaty woman," she purred, already distracted by the view in the free-weight room.

  "You know you have no intention of sweating," Missy said.

  "Not on the machines, anyway."

  "But, Missy, why the tennis outfit?" Sara asked.

  Missy gave her a patient look. "So I can hang around the juice bar and look like I'm waiting for my court. The racquetball guys hang out there, too." She gave a little faraway smile. "Racquetball develops some interesting muscles."

  "Does Peter know you're trolling for men?" Hayden asked.

  "I was demonstrating how to, er, troll for Sara."

  "Right."

  They both looked at Sara and shook their heads.

  "Okay, okay." She got the message already. "I'll go home and change."

  "And put some makeup on," Hayden told her.

  "Give your cheeks an extra swipe of blush so you'll look healthy," Missy added.

  "Or I could just work out and blush for real!"

  The problem was that Sara didn't have anything much to change into. Once at home, she put on some makeup and a slightly tighter T-shirt, then headed back to the gym.

  The crowd had thickened.

  Sara walked past the line waiting to sign in, and was intercepted by a black-spandex clad set of impressive muscles. "Did you sign in?"

  "Uh, I'm a guest."

  The man extended a giant paw. "May I see your pass?"

  She remembered Missy holding out the passes, but she didn't remember taking one. "My friend still has it. I was here earlier, but I didn't get the pass from her."

  He wasn't buying her story. So what was this? Had Sara lost all credibility with men? "Where's your friend?" he asked.

  Sara scanned the area for a pink and white tennis outfit. "She's probably at the bar where the tennis players hang out."

  "Uh-huh. What's her name?"

  Sara told him and he looked up Missy in the computer. "She's brought in her two-guest limit today."

  "Yes, I'm one of those guests. Sara Lipton."

  "Okay, I see you in the file."

  "Good. Then I can go in?"

  He shook his head. "You've already been in. One free visit per customer."

  "But I never got—okay, can I just pay for today, then?"

  "We don't do day passes."

  What was she supposed to do now? She tried to find Hayden, but didn't see her, either.

  "I can sign you up for a three-month trial membership."

  "And how much is that?" Hadn't she been thinking about working out? This place would do as well as any other.

  "There's a one-time thousand dollar registration fee—"

  Sara's mind went numb at that point. Strike two in the Sara's-hunt-for-a-man campaign. She turned to leave and bumped into a solid wall of male flesh. "Sorry!" She stepped back and bounced off another set of pecs. "Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry—"

  "Well, hello."

  The pecs belonged to Simon Northrup. Simon Northrup in shorts and a T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Simon Northrup with his muscles exposed.

  Oh, wow. The memory of their all-too-brief kiss burned on her lips.

  He shifted his gym bag onto his shoulder. "Are you coming or going?"

  "Going, I guess. I was only here on a guest pass and had to go back home for … something. There's no reentry. I never really got in at all."

  "Well, come on." He dropped a hand onto her shoulder and steered her to the member sign-in area. "You can be my guest."

  Every time she wrote him off, he managed to show up in time to rescue her. Once more, Simon was getting her into some place that didn't want her in. Sara started to tell him about the one-free-visit rule, but was distracted by the weight of his hand and his smooth take-charge attitude. Then there was their reflection in all those mirrors. Hunky muscle-y man and his woman. Okay, she was glad she'd changed into a tighter T-shirt, but there was nothing that could accessorize a girl like a good-looking male.

  Simon whipped out a membership card and swiped it in the card reader, then tapped in something. A box next to the computer spit out a strip of paper. "Here you go." He handed it to her.

  She waved it at the man who had challenged her earlier and walked right in. Now what? Simon had gone in through the men's locker room and Sara still didn't see Hayden anywhere. How was she supposed to approach men? They were all busy stretching and lifting and, er, sweating. Maybe she should hunt for Missy.

  "Where are you headed first—the treadmill to warm up?" Simon appeared beside her, hands on hips. She'd thought he was going to go off and do his own thing.

  "Um…" Sara looked in the treadmill direction and saw about two dozen machines lined up and an equal number of people dedicatedly walking and jogging to nowhere. "I guess so."

  He chuckled. "Have you been here before?"

  "No."

  Simon's lips curved ever so slightly. "Have you ever been to a gym before?"

  If you want a guy who's in shape, then he'll have to work out somewhere and he's going to want a girlfriend who works out, too. That had been Missy's advice yesterday and now Sara was facing Simon today, hesitant to admit that exercise had never been her thing. "I haven't been to a gym like this in a long time."

  He gave her a quick once-over. "Then you must jog or something."

  Bless his heart. "Or something."

  "Shall I show you the machines?"

  Simon stood before her in all his manliness. How was she supposed to forget about him and go looking for other men? Sara caved. "Oh, yes, please."

  He started her off on a glider since the treadmills were full.

  It was kind of fun—like walking on air.

  It was kind of fun for about three minutes, then Sara began breathing a little harder and trying to hide it from Simon, who was on the glider next to hers.

  "I looked for you yesterday at work," he said, not sounding breathy at all.

  "Oh?" she managed.

  "We got the Tripplehorn account out of Glasgow."

  "Great!" One-word responses. That was the ticket. That and breathing deeply and maybe not taking such very large steps and just hanging on rather than working the arm thingies.

  "Thanks again for your help. They were impressed that our company was personally surveying the hotel. And so am I."

  "Hmm." She was going to have to alert Missy and Hayden so they could get their stories straight. Missy had been in the restroom, and when she'd come out and hadn't seen Sara or Hayden, she'd left, too. Sara had hoped she wouldn't have to tell the others that she'd gone back inside.

  "You'll want to pace yourself when you're just starting out," he said and Sara realized she'd been huffing and puffing.

  He was going to think she was out of shape. Well, she was, but weren't men rebelling against hard and skinny female bodies? She'd read an article to that effect and it had certainly made sense, so Sara had deliberately
gone for the soft, pillowy form.

  Maybe her pillow had become a little too lumpy.

  She slowed down, then got off the machine and tried to stand on jelly legs. "I think I'm warmed up now."

  Simon checked the timer on her machine. Not even ten minutes. How embarrassing. Still, without a word, he got off the glider and beckoned her to the room filled with black and white machines that did who-knew-what forms of torture. Sara figured she was about to find out.

  "Let's start you off with some biceps curls."

  Oh, good. Her legs could rest. And her biceps ought to be pretty developed since she was forever carrying heavy boxes of employee records all over the place.

  With Simon directing her, Sara straddled a bench, lay her arms down an inclined pad and positioned her wrists beneath two padded rolls. Simon was busying himself adjusting the weights.

  "Okay, one at a time, slowly bring your arms toward you."

  "Okay." She pulled and nothing happened. "It's stuck."

  "Stand up."

  Simon took her place and placed his arms in position. He brought the padded roll back so hard, Sara thought he was going to break the machine. Talk about biceps.

  Yes, talk about biceps and triceps and all the other ceps that were so nicely on display.

  His mouth quivered at the corner. "It seems to be unstuck now."

  "Yes, thanks." Sara hesitated, then against her better judgment, she extended her index finger. "Is, um, that," she drew her finger down the bulge in his arm, "the biceps?"

  Danger, danger, danger. He looked down at her finger, and his head bent until their foreheads were nearly touching.

  "Yes."

  "It's so … big. And hard." She traced the outline of the muscle. "You must work out a lot."

  "Two or three times a week keeps me in shape."

  "I could manage two or three times a week."

  A couple of beats of silence went by. "You would be amazed at how great you'd feel."

  "Would I?"

  He gazed intently into her eyes. "Yes."

  And Sara didn't know if they were still talking about muscles and working out, or something else.

  She withdrew her hand and reluctantly straddled the machine again. Positioning her arms, she pulled. Fire erupted up and down her arms.

  "Hang on." Simon humiliatingly removed half the weights. "You shouldn't try too much too soon."

  This time, the machine cooperated and Sara managed ten reps, which was the number recommended to beginners. Still, her muscles trembled and she didn't think it was because Simon stood watching her, his lips curved in amusement. "Atta girl. Come over here." He moved to the next machine and began removing weights.

  "We'll work your legs now to give your arms time to recover."

  Sara could use the recovery time.

  "Hop on the bench face-down. This machine does virtually the same thing, but for the muscles in the back of your legs—your hamstrings."

  Oh, this was not good. Sara did not want to lie facedown with her, er, gluteus very maximus on view. Especially since Simon's was so tight and, well, un-maximal.

  Trying to hide her reluctance, Sara gripped the hand bars and positioned herself on the narrow bench. She did not feel at her most attractive.

  "Draw your heels toward your—"

  "Okay." She pulled and whoa, there was another set of muscles screaming at her.

  "Too much?"

  "Yes." Pride wasn't an issue anymore. Pain was.

  "I'm surprised. Your legs look to be in great shape."

  Mollified, Sara didn't notice that he'd failed to remove any weights until she conked out after seven reps. "Uh…" She felt like a beached whale. "If you could just…" Blindly, she waved one of her hands around until Simon grabbed onto her. Holding wasn't enough. He had to tug her up as well.

  Only she didn't seem to be moving.

  Along with new muscle groups, Sara was learning about new depths of humiliation. Determined now to stand and wipe the concerned expression off Simon's face, she fairly leaped to her feet and felt her thigh contract painfully. "Ow!" She limped frantically.

  "Cramp?"

  "Yes, it's a cramp!" she snapped.

  "Which leg?" Simon maneuvered her to the floor right in front of everyone, though Sara wasn't in a position to care.

  "Both legs!"

  "Keep them bent about ninety degrees while I bring them toward your head. Hold onto your calves."

  His warm hands pressed against her thigh muscles as he flexed and released her legs. She wished she could enjoy it.

  Sara looked at Simon moving back and forth above her as he flexed her legs. Fate had given her what she'd lusted for, with an amusing little twist.

  "Having fun, you two?" Hayden's face appeared upside down in Sara's field of vision. The day just kept getting better and better.

  "Sara has leg cramps."

  "How resourceful of you, Sara."

  "Hayden," she warned.

  "Why am I not surprised that you're a member here, Simon?"

  "I have no idea, Hayden."

  Sara saw only the underside of their chins as they faced each other over her. Simon had the tiniest curved scar just beneath his that Sara would never have seen otherwise. It was as though she'd discovered one of his little secrets.

  "Why, it's because you're in such good shape."

  Hayden was flirting with Simon. Flirting right over Sara's nearly dead body. Typical Hayden.

  "Thanks."

  Hmm. Simon wasn't flirting back. He was, however, massaging her thighs. Right in front of Hayden. Hmm. Could be good.

  The cramp was going. Now if Hayden would only go, too, Sara could begin to enjoy herself. She wondered how long she could fake a cramp.

  "Sara, hon, are you feeling any better?" Hayden's bright eyes were directed at her.

  "Yes. Lots better."

  "I'll just bet you are. When you're back on your feet, come find me. I ran into somebody I want you to meet."

  Gee, thanks a lot, Hayden.

  That wasn't fair. Sure, Hayden liked to cause trouble, but Sara had declared herself uninterested in Simon.

  What a joke. She was incredibly interested in Simon and right now, it looked as though he was incredibly interested in her.

  She had to put a stop to it. "I think I'm fine now. I'd like to try standing."

  He leaned back on his heels and she sat up. The movement brought her a lot closer to Simon than she'd expected.

  He didn't move away. "Sara…"

  Ignoring everyone around them, he drew one warm hand along her arm, over her shoulder, then grasped her nape.

  Was he going to kiss her again? Here? Now?

  Was she going to let him? Here? Now?

  "Simon…" Wrong time, wrong place and, most unfortunately, wrong man.

  He rubbed his thumb against her neck. "Have lunch with me?"

  "I have other plans," she said firmly.

  His eyes roamed her face. "Dinner, then."

  "Uh…" Be strong. "Uh" was not strong.

  "Or my favorite meal with a woman, breakfast."

  She caught her breath. Breakfast would come after… She swallowed. "I—I don't eat breakfast." Weak. And untrue.

  His mouth creased in a lazy half smile. "Then start. I make a mean omelet."

  Simon cooking for her. Simon cooking for her while wearing boxers or sweatpants … barefoot … shirtless … sexy shaving stubble … his hair a little curly because he hadn't tamed it for the day.

  "Simon, I don't think it would be a good idea." Because it was a most excellent idea.

  His fingers stopped their mesmerizing movement.

  "How long are you going to ignore this thing between us?"

  Sara struggled out from beneath his arm and got to her feet. She was a little shaky, but capable of walking. Around them, machines clanked and people strained and sweated. It was not the place for a conversation like this, but it was long past time. "I'm ignoring it until I know I won't get hurt. I want a re
lationship, not to scratch an itch."

  "Sara!" He got to his feet with an athlete's grace. "How could you think—"

  "Now, look. You've got a job where you work long, crazy hours and you have a kid sister who needs you. You don't want a relationship. All you've got is an itch."

  His eyes darkened. "Nice speech. But there's one problem."

  "What?"

  "You don't know what the hell you're talking about." His biceps curled around her and drew her hard against his pecs—his hard pecs. She, in contrast, was all quivering flesh.

  He kissed her just as hard, demonstrating that his mouth was in as good shape as the rest of him.

  Sara went boneless. When he abruptly set her from him, he had to steady her on her feet as she embarrassingly lurched toward him.

  "Well?"

  Was there steam coming off her? She cleared her throat and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  "I—the way you kiss isn't the problem. Your technique is fine. Really," she added when he raised an eyebrow. "Actually … more than fine."

  He gave her a purely male smile. "Glad to hear it."

  "But you still have other priorities in your life."

  "I can't think of any right now." He took a step toward her.

  "I can." Sara backed away. "And I don't want to compete. So … I'll just say thanks and—" she continued putting space between them "—goodbye."

  * * *

  6

  « ^ »

  "Honey, if you don't scratch that itch, somebody else will."

  "I don't want to talk about it." Sara shoved a forkful of creamy potato salad into her mouth. She also had a scoop of creamy chicken salad on her tray as well as a slice of coconut cream pie. Comfort cream.

  "I cannot get over the fact that you were lying on your back with your legs spread wide open in front of God and everybody and Simon Northrup was … was…" Missy was so scandalized she couldn't even get the words out.

  "Massaging her thighs," Hayden supplied with a snicker.

  "Her upper thighs!" Missy ended in a squeak. "A hundred years ago and you two would have been engaged by now."