by Landra Graf
Kat stood up and took a couple of small steps to widen her stance. “What makes you the expert?” She bent forward once more. Instead of success, she hung there, not even bothering to stretch her fingers forward. Her thighs burned in agony, and her calves sent a blatant white flag of surrender.
“Track team for ten years, football for six. I know all about pulled muscles, stretching, and calisthenics. My clients get the privilege of my expertise as well.”
She rolled her eyes. “Congrats to them.”
“Including you.” She couldn’t see him but heard the annoyance in his voice. “Now, are you ready to warm up?”
“I thought that’s what I was doing?”
“No, you’re doing static stretches that will lower productivity. You do those after the workout. The warm up is coupled with the jogging.”
Kat pointed at him in annoyance. “Then what was all the stretching crap you were doing when I walked up?”
He chuckled. “The wind down from my earlier run. I already put in two miles this morning. I need to warm up again before we do your routine. Let’s get started.”
She wanted to punch him for the laugh, for his overinflated ego, and his sheer determination. Damn show off, up at the crack of dawn running and then doing a bit extra just for her.
“Bet you think I’m impressed.”
Instead of responding to her comment, he pointed at the start of the trail. “We’re going to jog south. As we go, watch me, and I’ll demonstrate a couple of warm-up techniques.”
He took off, and Kat had no choice but to follow, especially if she wanted to ensure he didn’t change his mind about assisting her. Her previous experiences with people and verbal commitments had resulted in rapidly changing minds and broken promises, too many to count. They entered the trail, and he glanced back at her, motioning with his arms to catch up. She put a little effort into her speed, but within minutes her calves abandoned the white flag and screamed in surrender.
“Now we’re going to do butt kicks.”
“I don’t want to get my butt kicked.” She wanted to kick his.
Dev shook his head. “It’s a warm-up technique to stretch your quads. Watch.”
He kept jogging, but with each step kicked one foot behind him until the heel touched a butt cheek. The limited impact of his heel to his firm cheek spun around in her head like a record on her antique turntable. “Now, you try it.”
She had to struggle for the first couple, but after a few more steps she was pretty sure there’d be a twin pair of bruises on her ass later. “Achievement unlocked. What’s next?”
“Knee lifts.” Dev changed his jogging style, bringing alternating knees up to touch his chest. “Try to bring your knee as close to your chest as possible, and if you can, twist your left side a bit to the right or the right a bit to the left as they come up.”
“What does this workout?”
“A lot of things. Flexors in your hips, lower back and abdominal muscles, and your glutes.”
She did those and one other weird, march-like step that made her feel like an idiot, especially when a group of gals on bikes giggled as they road past them. Officially, the warm up wore her out, and they had to have jogged half a mile by now. She waved her hand in front of her throat signaling to Dev she needed to stop, even if for a minute.
“Why the slashing motions? Are you hurt?”
“It’s a good signal for stop. How far have we jogged?” She needed water and a chair.
“Not even one-eighth of a mile.”
Kat frowned. “Bullshit, it feels like at least a half. I can’t go any farther. If I do, I may throw up.” She probably wouldn’t, but saying it made her want to.
“This is just a warm up.” Dev looked at her intently like he was willing her to keep going. “I honestly didn’t believe a woman like you would give up this easily.”
“You’d be surprised, and you barely know me. I give up all the time.” Not quite the whole truth. She gave up on things that wouldn’t end in happiness, like wanting a man who’d put her in debt to come back, or seeking approval and attention from people who never intended to give it.
The look of exasperation and a muttered, “Dulce Madre,” from Dev told her now was the time to present her proposal. “I know you don’t want to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.” She motioned between the two of them. “The makeover, or ‘life change process’ as you call it, and everything. Hell, I’ve no idea why you even called agreeing to it in the first place. Mark does want to help me out, but I can sense your reservations. So, how about we figure out a way to make this process quick and painless? A couple of makeover sessions with some tips and pointers like this morning. I can now do a proper warm up to a running workout, thanks to you. You sign off on my makeover success, and we’re done. I come out with a little bit of knowledge, and you don’t have to put up with me.”
Dev cocked his head to the side, like that first day in his office, the look on his face reminiscent of someone trying to puzzle their way through a problem. “Image makeovers are completely different than what you describe, and how do you know I don’t want to be here?”
“It’s obvious I’m annoying and slowing you down. I get it. I annoy most people. I’ve accepted that fact. We can wrap all this—”
“Who told you that?”
Kat raised an eyebrow. “Who told me what?”
“That you annoy them.”
“Ex-boyfriends, co-workers, classmates in college. People.” She shrugged. Folks she worked with didn’t seek her out for discussion unless they needed something related to the job. No one called her to hang out on the weekends for fun, except the occasional phone call from Betty or her close circle. She’d accepted her lack of companionship and the human population’s obvious indifference toward her.
“All right, I want you to put the word annoy out of your vocabulary in regards to anything to do with you. I’m more concerned about the word motivate because we need to get up and around the next part of the trail and back before the place where I like to enjoy brunch closes. If you’re game, I’ll even pay for yours.” Dev smiled, and she immediately looked at the ground.
He was attempting to cheer her up, make her come out of the small raincloud she’d cast over herself with one of his made-to-make-women-wobbly-kneed smiles.
She placed her hands on those knees to steady them before making eye contact; thankfully the smile had reduced in size. “For free breakfast, I’m in, but what about the makeover—”
“Jog first. The conversation can wait until breakfast.”
She nodded, and they both took off again. No full-on commitment, but he’d been more considerate about her first admission. Her good luck wouldn’t last, though. It never did.
“Table for two, Susan.” He glanced at Kat. The woman was out of breath, bent at the waist, and with her hands on her knees. Maybe he’d pushed her too hard for their first round of exercise, but he’d wanted to see what she was made of. “Are you okay?”
Kat lifted her head, cheeks still flushed. “Talking to me?”
Dev nodded. For a beginner at running she’d wowed him. Showing up in appropriate attire, reluctantly cooperating, and showcasing a competitive streak once she’d caught her stride.
“Yeah, fine.” She stood up straight and took some more deep breaths, slowing her racing pulse. “I’ve never eaten here before.”
The hostess flashed a bright smile at them both. “Then, welcome to the Blue Dove Café. It’s good to see you again, Dev. It’s been a while.”
For good reason. This was another place he’d frequented with Pru and then avoided out of fear she’d appear. There had been a plethora of random encounters in those first few weeks after the split. The favorite dishes outside his door or dropped off at the office, surprise meetings at the park or the store—she’d made his home a war zone and he’d become an effective guerilla. No more. His ability to walk away on Wednesday night proved he could withstand
her games. He had developed immunity to her simpering apologies, too.
“That’s going to change in the future. Can we get patio seating, please?” He glanced at Kat to see if she agreed, but her attention was focused on everything else about the place. Another trait to admire and explore: curiosity.
“Sure thing.” Susan escorted them through the main dining room and out a side door to the patio. Wrought iron tables and chairs dotted the brick paved enclosure. Blue and white umbrellas rose from the center of each table, providing shade from the sun, which was already on a nice climb into the morning sky. “The second from the end will give you a perfect view of the courthouse and the fountain in the square.”
Susan set the menus and silverware on the table. “Your server will be right with you. And, Dev?”
“Yes?”
“I’m so happy you’re back.” She left whistling some song Dev had heard her echo a dozen times.
He sat down, and one look at Kat told him she was thinking all the wrong thoughts. “No, I’ve never dated her or been involved with her in any way.”
“I didn’t say anything, and I’m not judging.” The sheepish expression crossing her face said otherwise.
“Do you lie often?”
Her face flushed, and she started to flip the single page menu back and forth. “This can’t possibly be the menu. I know fast food joints with a bigger selection.” The question obviously bothered her, and her hesitancy bothered him. Image consulting required trust and honesty; his previous experiences with female clientele proved it. If she couldn’t provide both to him, then this experiment ended before he placed his order.
“So?” Yes, he’d push for an answer on this. Kat already displayed a lack of self-esteem, which most likely contributed to her lack of caring when it came to her clothes. He’d worked with a lot clients with the same tactics, attempting to rebel against their hurt feelings by dressing without caring. The effort didn’t have the effect they wanted.
“I’m not a fan of lying, though I’m good at getting used by liars.” She stayed focused on the menu, the tension lines in her forehead making an appearance. “Maybe their crap rubbed off on me a bit.”
The part of him desperate to understand, to help and fix her issues, wanted to ask about the liars. Before he could, the waiter appeared with a basket of biscuits and offered to get their drink order. Dev stuck to the usual, water and green tea. Kat asked for a Dr. Pepper.
“Is that something you drink all the time?”
She shrugged. “Usually, why?”
“As I mentioned before, this makeover process isn’t simply focused on clothes and basic business tips. This encompasses your eating habits, lifestyle habits, and mental health, if needed. The idea is to enhance the person sitting at this table into someone with the skills for longevity in all life’s aspects, personal and professional.”
“What does that have to do with my choice of soft drinks?”
This would be the part where she’d rebel, of course. Changing clothes was tolerated by most clients. Changing food and beverage choices always raised eyebrows and voices.
“It means you give up the high sugar, high calorie selections.” He sat back in his chair as a look of horror crept over her face. An animated facial structure could be added to her list of talents. He tried not to laugh as he watched her lips pucker out in dislike and her eyebrows narrow in some laser-esque stare. Maybe he possessed a bit of a sadistic streak because he enjoyed getting those reactions. He recognized his pleasure as an early sign of attraction, something he couldn’t afford.
“That wasn’t in the paperwork or mentioned before. I signed up for the first bit you mentioned. Changing my diet is not included. Adding exercise, I’m okay with that. I’ve always wanted to be more active. The mental health bit... I’m perfectly sane, so no need to dive into that issue. Essentially, I want basic makeover services, nothing fancy or extraordinary.”
The drinks arrived at the end of her little speech. She propped the straw between her lips, and for a split moment the small seed of attraction he’d thought of before sprouted. Those lush lips looked so soft and puckered in such a way that reminded him of a kiss and many other sexual things he hadn’t experienced in too long. Add in the look of ecstasy her face embodied, eyes fluttering toward the sky as if the mere taste of her drink stimulated more than her taste buds and pleasure endorphins, and he found himself with a semi-hard dick.
“Are you ready to order?” The waiter’s question brought his focus back.
“I am,” Kat replied pushing her glass away. “I’ll have the eggs benedict over country potatoes, with bacon.”
No surprise she’d choose a meal with nearly eight hundred calories. He’d chosen to live life a bit on the safe side. “I’ll have the egg white spinach omelet, turkey sausage links, and a fruit cup on the side.”
Once the waiter had disappeared again, Dev knew it was time to awaken Kat to the realities of their partnership. “To recap your little pronouncement, you want the basic makeover service. How long do you think that takes?”
She took a minute to think about it, chewing on the end of her straw. He found the motion of her teeth distracting, like her lips earlier, and took a moment to readjust his position in the chair. This was business; his neglected sex drive and her attractive tics be damned.
“I’d say no more than two weeks at most. A couple days for clothing sessions and a few more for business professional and conversational pointers, including maybe an excursion in a business setting to try some of the stuff out.”
“What if I told you the basic service would take two months?”
She choked. Dev jumped from his chair and had one hand on her shoulders and the other on her back in less than two seconds, patting gently.
“I’m fine,” she croaked.
He rubbed two spots on her back over her shoulder blades, and her breathing evened out. “Are you sure?”
He alternated between soft pats and rubs on her back with one hand, while the other massaged her shoulder. There was a knot hidden in the muscle, and he kneaded it with his fingertips. The contact became intimate, and why the hell he kept it going he didn’t know, except he liked the way she seemed to trust herself within his hands. Maybe she’d be willing to trust him with everything else.
Then she moaned. One of those moans that touched a man’s sexual center and awakened everything. Remember she’s a client.
He let go of her, and she nearly fell forward against the table. “I know the number is a surprise.”
“I don’t have that kind of time to commit.” Where a sound of pleasure had existed a minute prior, panic replaced it. “And what could possibly take two months?”
“First off, time constraints should never be put on personal image success. Most of my consultants set their own time expectations based on an extended interview with their clients. We haven’t even gotten to that portion yet. If you don’t mind my asking, though, why don’t you have time?”
Another pause and he used the momentary silence to sit back down in his chair. He needed to see her face, get a glimpse of her eyes.
Those blue depths showed fear of something, possibly him. “There are personal things in my life I have to take care of. Spending a lengthy amount of time on a makeover will—”
“Put a damper on your social life? I thought you said you didn’t have one?” He sighed, gripping the bridge of his nose before inhaling again. “This is why I didn’t want to agree to this in the first place, your obvious inability to commit to anything.”
She gripped the table with one hand, knuckles going white, lips thinned in a firm line. “I can commit. I’m super good at committing. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have stayed with my ex-asshole of a boyfriend for three months after he got a credit card in my name and racked it up. The error right there proves I’m committed.”
“Or rather, that you should be committed,” Dev replied.
There’d been only one other female he’d ever seen so dete
rmined to go through with a consultation, and she’d invested in expanding his business and turned into the very thing she’d escaped from. In equal measure, Kat’s short, impassioned rant made him consider breaking his rules on time constraints if merely to reduce the chance of getting emotionally wrapped up in this one. She’d already proved dangerous with her looks and strong demeanor. That paired with her being used by someone of his sex tugged at the protector in him. If he discovered anything else to endear her, he might do something he’d later regret.
The food arrived, and Dev used the meal as a welcomed timeout under the guise of eating versus the reality of replaying their conversation and interaction thus far. Professionally, Kat needed more services than what she wanted. He didn’t operate under client’s wants. When they submitted to his expertise, they subjected themselves to his decision-making. That was why, discounting Pru, he had the best success rate in the industry. No one was as thorough or as devoted.
Working on a compressed timeline would allow him to keep his distance. If he refused to help now, he’d be breaking his core principle: never turn his back on someone who needed him. Whether she’d use those exact words or not, Kat needed him to help her for reasons she didn’t want to reveal yet. Those reasons always came out over time.
The biggest hurdle would be working with someone who’d fight him every step of the way. She may not want to, but she would. He could tell during the exercises earlier. After she’d overcome her initial aversion to the process, everything changed. Each task would require a saint’s amount of patience. After six months of working with men, who typically preferred blunt speech over kind, constructive feedback, he was unsure if he could handle the job.
“Fine, the arrangement continues.”
She halted her potato and egg-covered fork. “But? I sense a side note to this.”
“Yes, there is. If I’m going to help, you have to agree to follow my lead. No objections to my suggestions, no matter how much you want to. No more hesitating with my questions or asking a question in response to one of mine. Also, I need to know right now if you’re the type that needs gentle words or if you appreciate the truth, regardless of how ugly it may get.”
