British Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set

by Marissa Farrar

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lauren. You’re perfect for the job.” Before she could argue, Claire made a loud shushing sound and nodded back to the TV built into the plush upholstery of the stretch limo transporting them to the Wolf’s Lair, as the facility was now being affectionately called.

  Lauren glared at the two commentators, who sat in the lounge area of the TV control centre. The lounge overlooked the gym, which was far more intimidating than the presenters. Lauren racked her sleep-deprived brain for a last minute stay of execution.

  It hadn’t been a good night—not that Lauren had expected it to be after tall dark and northern pulled a runner and left her in a bad way. She would have returned to the pub afterwards and switched from ale to whisky – lots of it, but for the fact that she didn’t need a hangover when she faced Claire for the walk of shame. Her boss had arrived in Keswick early this morning for the final briefing before she threw Lauren to the wolves, er … just one wolf, actually—Wolf Jennings.

  She’d gone back to her hotel room accompanied by a pint of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream, which she followed up with an order of curry fries from the chippie down the street. It felt like her last meal. If she couldn’t make her boss see reason, the next six weeks would be low-carb and kale hell.

  Lauren had stayed up late checking the applicants who, unlike her, really wanted to be Jennings’ victim. It hadn’t been difficult to line up several, who promised her they would be packed and ready to take her place at the drop of a hat. That was the easy bit. Figuring out how to convince Claire to give someone else the infamous honour was the real battle.

  Claire had the limo pick her up an hour before she was to make her grand appearance at Wolf Jennings’ chamber of horrors. It was another nod to Claire’s sick sense of humour that she wouldn’t allow Lauren to even know what the trainer she had chosen looked like until she was on her way to her gym prison.

  “Here it is,” Claire said, giving Lauren a maternal pat on the arm.

  On the screen, Misty offered the viewers that smile that said she was about to impart the best gossip. “As you know, Del, Wolf Jennings was my personal trainer for over a year, and all I can say is that the man gets results.”

  “Sounds like the guy gave her multiples instead of biceps,” Lauren complained.

  Claire replied with a silencing finger to her mauve lips, and Misty continued.

  “Here’s a little clip we filmed earlier to introduce you to Wolf Jennings, the man and his methods.

  “Claire, I really don’t think I’m the right person for—”

  Her boss silenced her with a raised hand and nodded to the screen. “Just watch, and then we’ll talk.”

  Lauren glared at the video through gritty sleep-deprived eyes. Sounding more like a cheerleader than a presenter, Misty did the voiceover touting Jennings’ unorthodox, but successful methods. Before and after selfies of some of his clients—all looking svelte and glowing with health, flashed on the screen.

  Lauren’s stomach knotted into a tight fist as Misty explained, “while Wolf’s methods might seem harsh, no one can deny they’re effective.”

  Then the scene switched to early morning light streaming through a Lakeland forest. A dozen people sweated their way through the workout from hell while Misty rattled off Jennings’ qualifications, which meant nothing to Lauren. On camera, a middle-aged man grunted through something that made him look like an overgrown frog hopping across the grass, and Lauren wondered how it had all gone so wrong. The PR campaign she had created was genius, it was the ultimate way to showcase Physicality, Inc. for the brilliant company that it was. The plan had been to choose someone, someone grossly unfit, a volunteer who was willing to do what it took to get a hard, fit body, or at least get started down that path as far as six weeks would allow. And certainly there had been no shortage of volunteers, people believing that the extra level of control is what it would take to finally get them the healthy fit body of their dreams.

  Oh Lauren could talk the talk, but she certainly didn’t walk the walk. Who had time for all that training and planning and eating clean? Of course now that she worked for Physicality, she intended to do all that stuff. Someday. It sure as hell hadn’t been her plan to have it done to her on reality TV!

  The close-up of frog man pulled back to a panorama of a dozen people—men and women, in varying stages of fitness. They were all running and leaping and sweating out jumpy-squatty moves along with the weird frog thingy. Instead of curling up and whimpering on the grass, which Lauren was pretty sure she would have done, they were all shouting breathless encouragement to each other. In the midst of all the grunting and huffing, Wolf Jennings yelled, cajoled and egged them on sounding more like a drill sergeant than a personal trainer. The camera was strategically placed behind Jennings so that it looked out over his clients and, at the same time, made it clear that he was working out right along with them. He was jumping sweating and bulging and doing it all … shirtless!

  “I can’t work out with him,” Lauren gasped, her heart doing a drumroll in her chest. I can’t … I mean he’s so … and I would be so …”

  “Of course you can work out with him, Lauren, exactly because he is so … and you are so …” Claire spoke around a smile that was almost too big for her face. Yup! Definitely a sick sense of humour.

  The plan was that the volunteer would actually live with Jennings for the next six weeks. He would train them, monitor them and coach them on good nutrition and a healthy life style. The whole event would culminate in some physical challenge of the client’s choosing—something they dreamed about but never thought they could accomplish. Physicality had put together a state of the art facility complete with living accommodations. They had hired a cook and a nutritionist to help the client learn better ways of eating and cooking. Viewers could tune in any time to the live camera feeds and see what was going on at the Wolf’s Lair. Daily segments would air on YouTube, several cable channels and social media outlets as well as on Physicality’s own fitness network. Sponsorship had been quick in coming from multiple high end clothing, cosmetic and health food companies, all anxious to get a piece of Lauren’s genius. In addition, all those who tuned in and watched could download the recipes and the basic training techniques Jennings used on his client. Every day there would be a weigh-in with measurements taken once a week. The audience could watch the transformation and participate by sending in their own success stories, photos and questions to the team who would be working social media 24/7. How could something so brilliant have backfired so badly?

  The camera zoomed in for a close-up of Wolf Jennings glorious bulging arms and broad shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I look.” Lauren spoke over the cheerleader, who was now talking fitness jargon.

  “Of course there’s nothing wrong with the way you look,” Claire replied smiling at Jennings’ tight arse well presented in athletic shorts. “Believe me, I would be the last person to ever base anyone’s employment on looks rather than skills, and you’ve got the skills or you wouldn’t have the job. But that’s not the point.” She waved a well-muscled arm at the image of Jennings glorious backside as he effortlessly pumped out some more jumpy- squatty thingies. “You’re the brains and Wolf’s the brawn. With both of you comfortable on camera, you’re Physicality’s dream team. But on a more practical level, hon, I thought you were going to have a heart attack before we made it up three flights of stairs when the elevator was down last month. I need you. I can’t have you dying on me.”

  “I was carrying a heavy computer bag,” Lauren said, unable to hide the blush at being called on her lack of stamina. “Besides, I think I might have been fighting off a cold,” she lied.

  Claire gave her the evil eye. “You work for Physicality, Inc. now, full time, and this new PR campaign is bloody genius, but it’ll be even more so if the world can see that Physicality’s people are walking the talk.”

  “I understand that, really I do, and I’ll join a gym, I’ll even get a
trainer if that’ll help, just not in such a public way, and not with him. Please.”

  Claire’s phone blared out Flight of the Valkyries over Jennings’ barked instructions to his tortured clients. “Speaking of the devil,” she said nodding to Jennings’ arse on the screen as she answered her device. “Wolf, darling! Lauren and I were just talking about you. Watching your lovely video, actually. On our way over.” She winked at Lauren, whose stomach suddenly felt like it was in free fall. “Here, Sweetie, let me put you on speaker so I can introduce you two,” she said just as the Wolf Jennings on the screen yelled for his people to clench those gluts and zip those abs.

  And suddenly it was like that slow motion scene in a horror film, just before the pretty young innocent is shredded by Freddy Kruger or pursued by the monster from the fetid swamp. Wolf Jennings turned to gaze at the camera from beneath hooded eyelids that revealed familiar blue eyes. He offered a smile that was damn near erotic. Then he said in a very northern accent, “If you do your part, I guarantee I’ll get you there.”

  As the clip ended and Misty and Del were once again on camera, Lauren sat frozen to the spot, just like all those poor women in the films. She didn’t scream, though she felt like it. Instead she managed in a shaky voice, “I can’t work with him.”

  “I can’t work with her.” The response on the other end of the phone was simultaneous. The familiar voice was honey and heat and frustration. Then he continued, sounding at least as breathless as he had on his video, as he had when he got up close and personal with her in the garden behind the pub. “There’s been some mistake, Claire. I can’t work with her. We can’t work together.”

  The smile on her boss’s face slipped just a fraction. “Why ever not Wolf? You two are perfect together. Not only is Lauren comfortable on camera, but she’s horribly unfit.” Before either of them could respond, she continued. “I need my PR ace in the hole fighting fit, and right now I doubt if she could fight her way out of a paper bag.”

  “Oh, yes, I could.” Fuck Lauren sounded like a kid at the Christmas pantomime.

  “Didn’t look like you could on the stairs,” Claire responded. She turned her attention back to Jennings. “Obese couch potatoes or under muscled, out of shape career women, unfit is unfit, Wolf.”

  “I’m not really that unfit.” Lauren barely got the words out before they both said in unison

  “Yes you are.”

  A part of her wanted to crawl under the seat in her embarrassment while the other part wanted to punch Wolf Jennings right in his smug gob. Instead she snarled between her teeth. “You lied to me, Jennings.”

  “I lied to you?” His voice became a hushed growl. “How do you figure that? If anything you lied to me.”

  “As I recall you’re the one who sat down right next to me and wheedled your way in. I didn’t ask for your company.” She leaned closer to Claire’s iPhone, which the woman obligingly held up for her, with a bemused shrug. “I didn’t even know who the hell you were, or you’d have been wearing your Sneck Lifter.”

  “Did you two have sex?” Claire Amos seldom pulled punches.

  “We didn’t.” Lauren said.

  “We would have.” Wolf said

  “Would not,” she responded.

  “Oh and that’s why you grabbed for the condom was it? You couldn’t even wait to get to a room.”

  “You had me pushed up against the garden wall. I wouldn’t have come near you if I’d known that you were Wolf fucking Jennings.” She grabbed Claire’s phone away and all but yelled into it. “Look I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to. I’m not one of your fucking gym bunnies.”

  “Clearly,” he spat back.

  Lauren felt the chill of doom crawl up her spine as Claire took the phone from her hand. The smile on her face was back, this time with a good dose of scheming behind it. “Let me get this straight, the two of you ran into each other in a pub?”

  “Yes.”

  “And one thing led to another and you got touchy-feely.”

  “Yes.”

  “Mind telling me why you didn’t do the deed?”

  “You sent me the fucking file with Lauren Michael’s image front and centre,” Wolf managed. Even on the phone, Lauren could tell he was struggling as much for control as she was. “I don’t sleep with my clients.”

  “Well you must not have been too into each other if you let a little text file stop the action.”

  “I didn’t check it intentionally.” He sounded offended. “The phone fell out of my jacket and the message popped up with Lauren’s name and photo.”

  Claire actually giggled. “I won’t even ask which of your explosive cardio moves you were trying on Lauren that made your phone fall out of your pocket.”

  He ignored her comment and continued. “I tried to call you all evening, Claire, to tell you this isn’t going to work, but you weren’t picking up.”

  “It was family night. I never pick up on family night,” she said. Claire wasn’t married, and Lauren knew firsthand that family night involved quality time with her three tabbies and an African Grey parrot she’d inherited from her favourite aunt. “So, Wolf,” she gave a quick nod of her head to her phone, then at Lauren. “You had our little PR goddess backed up against a wall behind a pub?”

  “Yes.” His reply was little more than a whisper.

  “And you brought the condoms, Lauren?”

  “Yes.” she hissed.

  “Well let’s hear it for safe sex,” Claire shrugged. “Almost sex, at least.”

  “Now you see why we can’t work together,” Lauren said, for the first time her hopes beginning to rise. “I’ve lined up three other women who are ready to take my place. They can be here within the hour, and I’m sure we can delay a little while in front of the cameras until one of them gets to the Wolf’s Lair.” She spoke the last two words around a sneer.

  Claire said nothing, just sat glancing from Lauren to her phone and back again. “You barely made it out of the pub and into the alley?” She said at last.

  “That’s right.” Jennings’ replied softly.

  “Some serious chemistry between the two of you, then?”

  “Not really,” Jennings spoke up. “She’s too skinny.”

  “He’s not my type. I don’t like body builders.” Lauren retorted.

  “I’m not a body builder.”

  “I’m not skinny.”

  Claire offered a bright smile. “Denial is such a delightful thing. Chemistry. I believe that’s one of the major things they test for in films, isn’t it, the chemistry between the leading actor and actress.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Frankly even if you had lied to me about what went on between the two of you yesterday, the chemistry is still obvious, as I suspected it would be. And since we are doing television, I can’t see any need to change our plans.” She was all but bouncing in her seat. “What could make a reality show more interesting than a little sexual tension? And anyway, would you look at that, we’re already here. We might as well go for it, darlings.”

  Lauren’s heart sunk to her stomach as she looked up to find camera crew and presenters moving toward the limo from the cantilevered building that looked like a Frank Lloyd Wright original clinging to the fell side. On a balcony with a view of Derwent Water and the fells beyond, stood Wolf Jennings. He glared down at the approaching limo, then stuffed his cell phone into his pocket and went inside the house.

  The limo driver barely got the door open before Del Allen stuck the mic in Lauren’s face. “Ms. Michaels, are you ready for The Wolf?”

  She gave him her best vacuous fan girl smile. “Who is ever ready for the Wolf? I don’t mind telling you I’m terrified, Del. Why only minutes ago, I heard you and Misty discussing my stats. Too much body fat, too little muscle, terrible eating habits, not much stamina and not much strength. I’m the Wolf’s worst nightmare, I’m sure.” If she was going to go the humiliation route, she might as well go for broke. “Claire’s afraid I might just die on the jo
b,” she added brightly. “So for the next six weeks, it’s boot camp for me.” It was the kind of lay-it-on thick bullshit reality TV was famous for. Kudos for Physicality and Claire Amos. Wolf Jennings would have to earn his own fucking kudos.

  “Is there a backup plan in case you find Wolf Jennings’ brand of boot camp too hard?” Del asked with a condescending smile.

  “She’s working with me.” To Lauren’s surprise, Wolf Jennings appeared all decked out in his gym shorts and a muscle shirt sporting the Physicality logo and showcasing his shoulders and hard arms. “There are no failures in my programme.”

  “I’m confident that Wolf is going to get me there,” she gushed. It was all she could do to keep from grinding her teeth as she used Jennings’ catch phrase, hoping her smile didn’t look too much like the grimace it was.

  “Looks like you got your work cut out for you Wolf,” that smug fuck, Del said, giving Lauren a disapproving onceover.

  “Oh I love a good challenge,” Jennings responded, curling his enormous hand around her sorry excuse for a bicep. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my girl needs to get settled in. She’ll need her rest if I’m gonna get her there.” His smile was far more of a threat than a grimace, and Lauren couldn’t help feeling as though the prison doors had just clanked shut behind her.

  Chapter 4

  The Battle Begins

  “While Lauren’s weight falls into the normal range for someone her age and height, she’s a classic example of a thin fat person. That makes her just as much in need of Physicality Reality as someone who is obese.”

  She would not be embarrassed, and she would not knee him in the balls, she told herself. She stood still keeping her eyes forward, her face neutral while Jennings talked about her as though she wasn’t there. “Her body fat ratio in comparison to lean muscle mass is high.” Her humiliating stats flashed on the monitor. “In short Lauren is all fluff.”

  She would not knee him in the balls, she would not knee him in the balls.