Loving Mr. July

by Margaret Antone

She pointed to the left comp that showed four individual photographs of various art deco vases shot on a glassy green background with the advertising text flowing between the photos. “And using the graphics from the vase as a border is a nice touch.”

  Cynthia nodded. “The design firm is trying to move us beyond country kitsch.”

  “But it’s a little sterile. Too corporate.” Sharon continued. She tapped the other comp. “This evokes the feeling of Grandma’s better.”

  “You sure you’re not getting stuck in a rut here?” Cynthia frowned at the second comp, primarily composed of just one exterior photo of the barn the shop occupied, and using a western-style font. “Remember, we’re trying to move beyond the blue hair set. And that ad isn’t going to portray the variety of stock we carry.”

  “True.” Sharon considered both layouts again. “But I don’t want to veer too far away from our base. Can we afford to run both?”

  Cynthia narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

  Sharon raised a hand. “Hear me out. I think the barn ad will appeal to our older crowd. And they’ve been our base customers for many years with all the bus tours, so I don’t want to ignore them. I’m thinking we run that ad in their markets, like in Palm Springs, maybe Sun City. But I still want to pull in more of the local, hipper, interior designers. And I think the first comp with a few tweaks would catch their eye.”

  “That’s a good point.” Cynthia nodded. “See, you’re absorbing more of the marketing stuff you claim to hate than you think.”

  Sharon stuck her tongue out at Cynthia.

  Cynthia just laughed. “I’ll crunch the numbers and let you know.”

  She took a quick peek at her watch and sighed. “I’ve got to go. Supposed to go make sure Kurt gets to the gym tonight. At this rate, I’ll barely be moving by tomorrow.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Kurt lounged on his deck chair, beer in hand, half observing the beach scene below him, half thinking about his morning run. It must be close to six p.m. now, he figured, and he probably should get ready to hit the gym, but the sun warming his skin made him feel lazy. A few minutes of snoozing wouldn’t hurt. He put the beer on the table and shut his eyes.

  He was rudely awakened by a poke.

  “I don’t think this is part of Carl’s dietary plan.”

  Eyes groggy, Kurt looked up to see Cynthia holding his beer. He swung his legs to the deck, sat up, and squinted at her. “What happened to carb loading?”

  Cynthia rolled her eyes. “You’re not running a marathon, Kurt. And this is going to go straight to your gut. No more beer.” She poured it into a potted plant.

  “That’s sacrilege, you know.”

  “I do.”

  “And that plant will probably die now.”

  “Probably.”

  “I can see how much you care.” Kurt rubbed at his eyes. “What time is it anyway?”

  “Way past time that we were supposed to be at the gym.” Cynthia took a seat opposite him. “I was ringing the doorbell until Lucky went nuts. How could you possibly have slept through that?”

  Kurt shrugged. “Vaguely heard something, but the sun was making me lazy. And after the week I’ve had, I was a little wiped out.”

  “We could skip the gym if you’re too tired.”

  Kurt studied her face. She was trying to look indifferent. It wasn’t working. And he wasn’t ready to let her off that easily yet. “We can skip the photo shoot. Your call.”

  Cynthia’s mouth compressed into a thin line. “I’m here on time, dressed for working out. You’re out here working on your tan.”

  Kurt let his gaze travel away from her face to take in the rest of her body. Tonight’s getup was blindingly pink, and also looked rather new. The top dipped low enough to reveal a rather amazing cleavage. He wondered why he’d never noticed it before.

  He was going to have to buy her some t-shirts. A guy could only take so much.

  “Don’t need a fancy outfit to go get sweaty.” He located his discarded t-shirt, stood up, stretched, slipped it on and held out hand.

  He noticed the hesitation before she put her hand in his, where it barely covered his palm. He pulled her up, held on longer than necessary, used his thumb to idly caress.

  She lifted her head to briefly look him in the eye, a startled look on her face, before she tugged at her hand.

  So she wasn’t completely unaffected by him, he realized with some satisfaction. He turned inside, so she wouldn’t see the slight smile come to his face. “Give me five to grab my shoes.”

  Chapter 5

  The young receptionist gave Kurt a huge smile and held her hand out for his membership card when they walked into the gym. Cynthia turned to Kurt, raised an eyebrow. What, was she invisible?

  “Hi Tiffany,” Kurt said. “I believe Cynthia was first.”

  Flustered, the girl turned to Cynthia, quickly taking her card and swiping it without a word, then went back to fawning over Kurt.

  Cynthia waited while Kurt exchanged brief pleasantries with the girl, admiring how adept he was at maintaining just the right level of friendliness—not too flirty, not too standoffish.

  “You always get that kind of reception?” Cynthia asked, falling in step with Kurt as he walked toward the locker rooms.

  Kurt shrugged. “I come here a lot.”

  Cynthia laughed. “Yeah, well so do I. Probably not as much as you, but enough.”

  “And your point?”

  “Just interesting to see how differently the beautiful people live.”

  Kurt stopped walking to stare at her. “Beautiful people?”

  “Oh c’mon, Kurt. You can’t not realize what affect your looks have on women.” Cynthia tugged at his arm to get him moving again.

  Kurt looked at her for a long moment before he resumed walking. “I’d like to think I treat people well.”

  “And it seems as though you do.” Cynthia inclined her head in agreement. With the exception of me, she thought. But then again, she was just the workout buddy. And don’t forget cook. “But even so, it doesn’t account for all the attention. What does that feel like, anyway?”

  Kurt furrowed his brow, looked discomfited, and apparently didn’t have a ready answer.

  Cynthia smiled to herself, motioned to the locker room doors. “Meet you upstairs?”

  She didn’t wait for his answer, even though she had voiced true curiosity. It was somehow enough that she’d flapped his typically confident feathers.

  In the crowded women’s locker room, she stopped to chat with friends, took her time changing.

  By the time she reached the top of the stairs leading into the main workout room, at least thirty minutes had passed. Maybe Kurt would be mostly done with his workout. One could hope.

  Then again, maybe not, Cynthia thought. Kurt stood near the top of the stairs, arms crossed, toe tapping.

  After catching her eye, he looked pointedly at his watch.

  Cynthia walked up to him, gave him a sweet smile. “Is there a reason you’re not working on those abs?”

  Kurt’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenched a little. “Is my workout buddy ready?”

  Cynthia frowned. “We’re working out independently, right? Just like the run this morning?”

  Kurt blew out a breath. “Well, let me think about it. Seeing how well that worked out…No.” He said the last word with some emphasis.

  Cynthia knew she should be happy, or proud, or whatever, seeing as by the looks she was getting from other women in the gym, she was the object of some envy. But when Kurt walked up to the free weight racks and grabbed a couple of dumbbells, she was wishing some other victim had Kurt’s attention.

  She eyed his 80-pound dumbbells with more than a little trepidation. “Am I supposed to roll those around on the floor? Because that’s about all I will be able to manage.”

  One of the guys working out nearby snickered. Cynthia turned a brilliant smile on him. Kurt gave him a look meant to silence. Kurt’s approach worked better
than Cynthia’s. The guy moved away.

  “You, my dear buddy, can pick any dumbbells you wish to use.” Kurt walked down the line to the smaller sets and picked up one-pound dumbbells with his index fingers. “Do these suit?” He held them out to her with an elaborate bow.

  Some skinny, hard-body women nearby started snickering. Kurt gave them a winning smile. Cynthia scowled at them. Kurt’s approach still worked better, as they whispered to each other and laughed some more. Life just wasn’t fair.

  Her pride at stake now, Cynthia marched past the women and grabbed 15-pound dumbbells. She brought them over to where Kurt stood.

  “Let’s get this workout over with, Sweetie.”

  She said it loud enough for the women to hear, emphasizing the endearment. Only Kurt could see the sarcastic grimace that accompanied her words. Maybe if she embarrassed him, he would give up this working out together idea, and she could go down to the spa and get a massage instead.

  “Now that’s the spirit,” Kurt said, his eyes taking on a gleam. Before she could react, he bent over, gave her a noisy kiss on the mouth and then whispered into her ear. “If you haven’t worked out lately, those are going to feel like they are about ninety pounds by the time we’re done tonight. Want to reconsider?”

  She gulped, shook her head—tried to wrap her mind around what just happened.

  Kurt gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “Let’s start then.”

  Cynthia glanced at Kurt. He looked completely unperturbed. She was standing here with the taste of his lips still on hers, wanting more and he moved to arm curls without a blink? Cynthia narrowed her eyes. So that little display apparently was his way of upping the game? Well two could play.

  With each heft of weight, Cynthia considered how much worse she could make Carl’s recipes taste. By the time she struggled to lift the weights for count number three, she contemplated adding laxatives.

  Kurt walked over to the weight racks and picked up five-pound dumbbells. Without a word, he exchanged Cynthia’s fifteen pounders for the smaller weights.

  Okay, the laxatives were a bit much, Cynthia decided, grateful to be able to at least lift the smaller dumbbells past her navel. As she swung it in a wild arc, Kurt ducked.

  “You trying to kill someone?” Kurt put down his own weights and walked over to still her arm.

  “I thought you said do arm curls.” Cynthia took a deep breath. The woodsy scent of Kurt’s cologne smelled delicious.

  “Which do not involve winding up like a propeller.” Kurt brought her arm parallel to her body. “The idea is to target specific muscles with each exercise. Keep the upper part of your arm pinned to your body. Just lift the weight from where you have it now until your forearm is at a right angle to your upper arm.”

  Cynthia let him hold her arm in place, bend her elbow, and move her hand to demonstrate the motion. His hands were cool, a little roughened, his touch light. She stared at the curly blond hairs on his muscle-corded and surprisingly tanned arm. She took a deep breath.

  “Don’t look down. Look in the mirror.” Kurt let go of her arm to tilt her head up with his fingertips.

  “Do I have to? I’m not real fond of mirrors.”

  “You won’t know if you are using proper form unless you check it.” Kurt gently turned her so she could see better. “That’s why they have mirrors.”

  “I thought they were so that the muscle-bound guys could admire themselves.”

  Kurt grinned. “Most likely some of that going on too.”

  Cynthia forced herself to look in the mirror, concentrating only on her arm and trying not to look at the rest of body. She duplicated the action Kurt had shown her. “It’s a lot harder this way.”

  “Good. Means you’re doing it properly,” Kurt grunted, and resumed his own workout. “The idea is to not stop long between sets. That way you’ll get an aerobic workout too.”

  “I thought we did that this morning,” Cynthia said, watching Kurt do some dumbbell fly exercises before getting her own bench and copying his movements.

  “I ran. You were too busy admiring Sam’s stomach to get very far.” Kurt let the dumbbell fall to the ground and took a breath.

  “He was voted best abs for his year.” Cynthia skipped every other number in her exercise counting, but Kurt didn’t seem to notice.

  Kurt scowled, picked up the weights from the floor, and rolled back on to the bench to begin a dumbbell press routine. “Which he apparently had months to achieve.”

  “Just saying.” Cynthia switched to dumbbell press lifts as well. “So why are we doing all these arm exercises when it’s your stomach that worries you?”

  “We’ll get to the abs, just working out our chest muscles right now.” Kurt glanced over at her during a breather. “Or I am. Not sure what you’re doing. Praying to the weight gods maybe?”

  Cynthia quickly lifted the weights off her chest where she had been resting them and resumed. “Isn’t there a more efficient way to do this? Seems like we’re spending forever with these dumbbells. I won’t be able to move my arms tomorrow.”

  Kurt swung his legs to the floor and stared at her. “I thought you said you come to this gym. What exactly do you do here?”

  “Swim a little. Use the treadmill and stuff.” She waved her hand in the general direction of the aerobic machines. Get facials and massages, use the sauna, she thought. It was called a spa, wasn’t it?

  “Ah.” Kurt rolled back onto the bench.

  “Ah what?” Cynthia sat up, started to bristle. He was going to make some comment about her weight, she just knew it.

  “Explains why you haven’t a clue about what you’re doing with the weights.”

  “Oh.” She slumped, the fight disappearing. “Yeah, well. This area has always intimidated me. It’s either full of guys grunting or women that have more muscles than you do.”

  Kurt turned to her at that. Scowled a little. “Way to boost my ego.”

  “Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration.” Make that a huge exaggeration, she thought. The guy had some serious muscles. Who knew? And if he had a donut, she had yet to find it. “But you get the picture.”

  “Think maybe you’re being a little sensitive? My mom comes here, lifts weights. And she’s what, double your age?”

  “And your point?”

  “If she can do it, you have no excuse.” Kurt nodded, motioning her along to the weight machines.

  Cynthia eyed the long row of machines with dismay. “Maybe I just don’t like it.”

  “A different thing entirely,” Kurt acknowledged. “But for the next three weeks anyway, you don’t have a choice.” Kurt removed the pin on the weight stack for the nearest machine, and changed out the straight bar for an angled one. “Now we’re going to work the triceps.”

  Cynthia sighed. She let him move her into position in front of the machine, and show her where to place her hands on the bar. She jumped a bit when he wrapped his arms around her, put his hands on either side of hers and pushed down. The heat from his body enveloped her. In her sneakers, the top of her head fit under his chin. The woodsy scent she had smelled earlier now mixed with his own scent. Distinctly male. Utterly hot.

  This kind of weight lifting she could do. All day, as a matter of fact. Engrossed in enjoying his nearness, she jumped when he let go of the bar and moved away. The weight crashing back to the stack jolted her back to reality.

  “Now you do it by yourself, just like that,” Kurt said.

  Cynthia took a peek at his face. His bland look gave nothing away. So I’m the only one having a moment here? She decided right then and there that she was not going to let him become aware of her attraction.

  She took the bar and pushed it down, catching a friend’s eye as she did. “Hey Michael, how are you?”

  “Cynthia! I haven’t seen you in ages, what gives?” He leaned in to kiss her cheek.

  “Working out, so I can get muscles like yours.” She let go of the weight bar, purposely put a hand on his bicep and squeeze
d, knowing Kurt was watching. Michael was handsome and kind, and gay as could be. But Kurt didn’t need to know that.

  “Looking good, too.” Michael winked at her and moved on.

  A short time later, she saw one of the firemen who had also been in her calendar. She congratulated him on his new baby. He gave her an enthusiastic hug and told her his wife loved the gift she had dropped off. She hugged him back, noting with some satisfaction that Kurt had observed the exchange, but wasn’t close enough to hear what they said.

  That should confuse him, she thought, make him at least think she had other fish in the sea. The only problem was, she couldn’t get over how fabulous it had felt in his arms.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kurt emerged from the locker room and headed toward the lounge area to wait for Cynthia. Might as well check on the Padres game, he thought. Cynthia was bound to be doing whatever it was that took women so long in bathrooms. He sat on the couch, about to lean back when he noticed a flash of unmistakable pink against the wall.

  He got up and ambled closer. Yep, that was Cynthia all right. A guy crowded her against the wall, one hand above her head, his body angled along hers. She had her hands on his chest.

  He had half a mind to leave her there. Let her find her own way home, if she was going to flirt with everyone in sight. Jaw clenched, he moved in, raised his voice, put a little edge in it. “You ready to go, Sweetie?”

  Startled, the man turned around. “We’re having a conversation here, do you mind?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Kurt folded his arms across his chest, widened his stance, narrowed his eyes. “Cynthia came with me, and she’ll be leaving with me.”

  The man glanced back at Cynthia, who had taken advantage of the moment to put some space between them. “Oh, so that’s how the wind blows, does it? Figure you’ve moved up in the world, huh?”

  He turned back to Kurt and let out a harsh laugh. “Hey.” He put his hands up. “You can have her, Dude.”

  What the hell was that? Kurt turned to Cynthia, took in her flushed face and downcast eyes. “You ready to go, or is there another guy you can find to kiss tonight?”