Del sniggered. “I think the real challenge here is just to get her through it, Misty. Frankly, I think that’s far from a given.”
“The Bob Graham Round.” Lauren burst out. “I want to do the Bob Graham Round.”
There was stunned silence. In fact she’d never heard such silence since Physicality Reality had begun. To her right, Wolf glared at her like she’d threatened his mother. Misty’s jaw dropped, and for a very pregnant moment no one even breathed. Then Del, the twat, Allen burst out laughing.
“You’re going to do the Bob Graham Round. Honey, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but the Bob Graham Round is no trip to the spa to have your nails done.”
“I know that.” Heat climbed the back of her neck, and she desperately wished she’d had time to do a little research before the interview.
Allen looked her up and down as though she were something nasty he’d found on the bottom of his shoe, then he turned his attention to Wolf. “Have you talked to her about this? Because I’m seriously doubting this was your plan for Ms. Michaels’ challenge.” He made Ms. sound like a dirty word.
She took a deep breath battling the anger that made her whole body tremble. “Mr. Allen, I may be out of my comfort zone, and I admit I would have preferred not to be the person in the hot seat, but I’m here, and no matter what you think, I’m here to stay.” Wolf placed a restraining hand on her arm as though he had intuited her urge to punch the man in the face.
Misty cut in with a nervous laugh. “For those of you who may not be familiar with the mystique and the magic of fell running, here’s a little clip we did earlier today.”
The feed cut to the video, and Lauren all but jerked the mic out of her collar. “That’s enough for tonight,” she somehow managed without a waver in her voice. “I have a busy day tomorrow, and I’m going to make sure you lose your bet.” She turned a quick glare at Del, but didn’t linger. She was still too close to tears, and she wouldn’t give the prick the satisfaction. In her peripheral vision, she felt Wolf’s hard gaze, but she didn’t care. Best live to fight another day without some arsehole claiming she played the female tears card for sympathy. She walked off the set, shoulders squared, head high, careful not to hurry, but by the time she reached the living quarters, her stomach was knotted tight, and she wanted to throw things at the cameras, which wouldn’t even give her the space to have a good cry. That lack of privacy was way harder than anything Wolf could put her through. She swallowed back her emotions, undressed and shoved into bed, wrapping herself in the duvet so that any tears she couldn’t hold back wouldn’t be seen. Del Allen, she didn’t care about. He was an abusive jerk, but the fact that Wolf had let him abuse her, the fact that he’d made no effort to defend her, that hurt more than anything. Christ! Surely he had to know that she really was trying, and he sure as hell hadn’t done anything to make it easier—not that she’d expected him to. Was she really that bad? Was she really that hopeless?
She tried to go to sleep. Tomorrow wouldn’t be any easier than any of the other days had been, and facing it without sleep would only result in more of Wolf’s wrath—and everyone else’s disdain. But all she could do was toss and turn and think about the fact that people saw her as lazy and uncooperative, that people saw her as a failure about to happen. But they didn’t know her. They didn’t know her at all. Fell running she could do. She used to run when she was younger, back when her work didn’t take the lion share of her life. She used to be damn good at it. Fast. She would do the Bob Graham Round. That would be her challenge. Claire knew she was the best in her field, and her job didn’t rest on whether or not she could run a marathon. She knew that. And yet how could this whole horrible nightmare not reflect on her career, on her relationship with Physicality Inc.? As much as it pained her to admit it, what she really wanted was for Wolf to respect her. He’d never seen her successes. He only ever saw her failures, and repeatedly rubbed her nose in them.
At last she gave up, threw on workout clothes and headed down to the gym, which was only dimly lit at this hour, but it was enough for her to see what she needed to. If she couldn’t sleep, perhaps she could work on a few of the many things she sucked at. She pulled together what she’d need in one corner to do a modified version of the challenge she’d failed so miserably the day before—a brutal cocktail of kettle bell swings and press-ups. Her muscles weren’t keen on the idea, but she pushed through anyway, discovering, to her surprise, that she could actually manage a couple of proper press-ups amid the modified set she’d done from her knees. Surely Wolf would see that as an improvement. She did. She wasn’t about to be defeated. She wouldn’t let Claire down. She wouldn’t let herself down. She had said last night that those betting against her would lose. She’d repeated her commitment to Del. But tonight, as she climbed onto the treadmill and set it for a horrendous incline, she meant it. She would finish the challenge, and she would finish it well.
She was nearly halfway through a gut-wrenching five K, when she looked up to see Wolf standing next to her in a pair of baggy grey sweats and nothing else. She yelped and almost lost her footing.
“Rest is one of the main ingredients of good training, Michaels.” He stretched over the control panel, pressed pause and the treadmill slowed to a stop.
He held out his hand to her. “Come on. You can’t train if you injure yourself from overtraining or if you come down with a bug because your training compromised your immune system. You have to have balance, and believe me, you’re training plenty hard enough.”
“I can’t sleep,” she managed, once again fighting back tears.
“Don’t let that bastard get to you.” He offered a conspiratorial smile and spoke softly. “Just remember, you’re the one sweating and pushing, not Allen. Come on now. You need to sleep.” He nodded toward the stairs, but as she turned to go, her legs buckled beneath her and cramping pain shot up her left calf.
He scooped her up into his arms and settled her onto the nearest weight bench. “Muscle cramps,” he said, easing off her shoes and cupping her ankle in one hand. “Not unusual after your first serious descent.” She groaned as he dug thumbs and strong fingers into the swell of her calf. Heat radiated off his body, and he seemed instinctively to know where her muscles were knotted, his touch releasing bone-deep tension. It was all she could do to resist the urge to lay her head on his shoulder. He said nothing while he worked. It surprised her to find it was easy to be with him in their silence. His touch, that was what she focused on, and she found herself drifting somewhere between sleep and wakefulness as he knelt in front of her. The press and stroke of his fingers along with the trail of warm breath that followed raised the fine hairs on her neck and spread heat in places that had nothing to do with cramped muscles.
With her eyes closed, his hands were once again the hands of the sexy northerner she’d met in the pub, hands that were pleased to wander over her skin. But the two of them had a history now, and like it or not, that changed everything. Didn’t it?
“Better?” His voice broke into her silent reverie. It seemed a long way off from his body that was so deliciously close. He stood up, one knee cracking as he did so. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
That sounded like a good idea, and any minute now she would get up and climb the stairs to her room. Any minute now. Before she could manage more than to think about it, he engulfed her in strong arms, lifting her as easily as if she had been a child. She mumbled a protest, something about being able to walk just fine, but he ignored her.
The rest of the journey couldn’t have taken long with her head resting against his chest, the steady beat of his heart the best lullaby ever, but she must have slept. The next thing she knew they were in the living quarters with a camera in their faces.
“Go away. Can’t you leave her alone just for a little while?” In her sleep-addled brain, the growl in Wolf’s voice felt like a purr deep in his chest. She gave up all efforts to play tough and buried her face against his shoulder, not wanti
ng to deal with the camera, not wanting her vulnerability to be on public display yet again.
Chapter 6
Backing Off
Del Allen, you’re a twat!
Lauren Michaels kicks serious butt.
Methinks lurv is in the air!
Three tweets and a text from Claire summoned Lauren to the Closet even before breakfast.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Claire said with a butter wouldn’t melt smile. “You’re the belle of the ball, Cinderella, even if you did leave the party early. Check the link I emailed you.”
Lauren pulled up a YouTube video with a clip from last night’s fiasco. “Oh come on, Claire, I was there, please don’t make me experience it again.”
“Just watch it,” her boss said.
The clip opened after Lauren had left the stage. To her surprise, it was Wolf who spoke first. “Let me ask you, something, Del. Are you a personal trainer?”
The man shrugged in what was supposed to pass as modesty and offered a slimy smile. “I leave that in your quite capable hands, Wolf.”
“Apparently you don’t, if you consider yourself enough of an expert to judge Lauren’s progress and humiliate her like you just did.”
The corner of the man’s mouth twitched. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em, and while I may not be a trainer, I can read the stats. I can view the footage. It’s not rocket science, and the Bob Graham Round. Seriously?”
“How about you come and join Lauren’s routine for a day then? Hmm? How about you let me poke and prod and weigh and measure you and put your stats out there for the world to see. I notice you’re a little thicker around the middle than you were in your prime. Maybe too many three martini lunches? Maybe too much sitting on your arse and too few press-ups. Can you even still do a press-up?
“Now then,” Wolf turned his attention to Misty, affectively dismissing Del, who sat speechless. “Misty do you have anything you’d like to ask.”
The clip ended there.
Lauren was as speechless as Dell as she scrolled down through the tweets.
Lauren Michaels has heart!
Lauren Michaels is HAWT!
Michaels & Jennings—heating up the screen!
The Wolf’s a gentleman. Who knew?
“If Physicality Reality didn’t have people’s attention before, it does now,” Claire said. “The number of participants in Wolf’s home training programme doubled overnight. Oh, and the programme has now been dubbed the Wolf/Lauren plan. Some are even clamouring for you and Wolf to demonstrate a few partner workouts.” She leaned into the camera and offered a wicked little laugh. “I’m pretty sure that’s because they just want to see the two of you rubbing up against each other, but then who doesn’t?”
***
A chat with Claire always took priority, and it wasn’t until Lauren left the Closet that she noticed how late it was. If she was even one minute late, Wolf was banging on her door. A quick glance around the living quarters showed no sign of him. Cursing the fact that she’d now have to face his wrath, which no doubt he’d take out on her during the workout, she managed a quick change and was halfway down the stairs pulling her hair into a ponytail when she froze on the spot. She found herself staring at the sweaty muscular chest of Wolf Jennings as he did slow controlled pull-ups with the damp morning sun glinting off sleek shoulders. She watched breathlessly as he performed several more reps, watched every muscle move and tense and relax beneath bronze skin, watched with her pulse racing as though she were the one doing the pull-ups.
“There you are! Come, on, the car’s waiting.” The moment was broken as a tiny blonde woman bursting with way more energy than any person should have on a Sunday morning all but broadsided her with an outstretched hand. “I’m Gemma. I’m your tour guide for the day. You might want to change into some street clothes, sturdy shoes, and a warm jacket.”
Lauren dragged her gaze away from the great view as Wolf dropped lightly to his feet and glanced up at the two women before going back to his workout.
That was the last she saw of him for the rest of the day. Gemma and the camera crew took her on a whirlwind tour of the Lake District culminating in a quick tour of the Honister slate mines. It was just getting dark by the time she returned to the Wolf’s Lair. The whole day had been designed to be a wonderful escape, and yet all she could think about was getting back to training and getting back to Wolf. When he was nowhere to be found, reality settled in, as she went about her evening routine then went to bed. She reckoned the feeling was probably not mutual. He was probably elated to get rid of her for the day. His kindness last night, and the fact that he had stood up for her in front of Del Allen, that was probably nothing more than him being professional.
***
Wolf shifted uncomfortably in one of the two chairs in the Closet. Even through the computer screen, the Skype version of Claire Amos was formidable as she studied him like he was a problem to be solved. At last she spoke. “Did it work?”
“Did what work?” His stomach knotted with the certainty that he didn’t want to know the answer.
“Avoiding Lauren for the day. Did that help any?”
“I wasn’t avoiding her,” he lied. “She deserved a break. Besides I needed time to plan how I would approach her insane idea of doing the Bob Graham Round without making it look like I agree with anything Del Allen says.”
“Well,” she leaned forward. The sparkle in her eyes and the twitch of her lips brought with it the usual tension between his shoulders. “I’m sure the indomitable Wolf Jennings can figure out some twisted way to do it.” She waved her hand. “Oh don’t get me wrong. The little scene in the gym last night after hours has our extremely substantial audience gagging to see what will happen next. And that shot of her watching you on the pull up bar, well that’s already gone viral.”
He tensed. “That wasn’t planned.”
“I know, and that made the whole thing even better. I love that just enough of the natural heat and chemistry between the two of you leaks through to enthrall the audience in spite of your best efforts to stifle it. In fact I’ve counted on that ever since I discovered how close the two of you had gotten.”
“We’re not close.” Even as he said it, he knew she was ready to pounce.
“Not from lack of wanting to be. But you still have five weeks to go, Wolf. Do you think the actor can outlast the attraction long enough to make the ending worthy of the rest of the performance?”
Memories of finding Lauren working out in the middle of the night broadsided him. He’d been so pleased that it mattered that much to her when he’d not been sure that it did. He thought about how good she felt in his arms as he carried her upstairs, already fast asleep as he tucked her into bed. The only thing that kept him from lying down next to her and watching her sleep was the damn cameras that never shut off. He’d had to beg off of a day he’d loved to have shared with her. He’d wanted it to be him showing her around his Lakeland. But instead he’d stayed behind because he couldn’t do what Claire expected of him if he allowed himself to get any closer.
“Well?” Claire’s voice brought him back to the moment, back to the Closet.
He straightened in the chair and squared his shoulders. “I’ll do what I have to, and I promise your girl will have one hundred percent from me.”
To that Claire Amos burst out laughing. “I’m absolutely certain you’ll get one hundred percent from her too. Now,” her gaze moved off camera and then back to him. “Our Lauren is all tucked in for the night, so you can stop cowering and hiding and go back to prowling the Wolf’s Lair.”
Before he could respond, she offered him a gentle smile. “Good night, Wolf. Get some rest. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
She wasn’t wrong there, he thought. He resisted the urge to check in on Lauren as he walked past her room. With a heavy sigh he resigned himself to the fact that he was going to be resisting a lot of urges in the next five week. Hell, he’d thought it would be easier than this
. Even with what had happened at the pub, it was a one-off thing. That’s all. It might have even ended in a one-night-stand—his first and probably only. But he knew too much about Lauren now, and he’d invested too much in her. He wondered at what point it had become as much about proving himself to her as it was about being successful for the sake of his career.
Chapter 7
Falling
The next morning, she’d eaten her breakfast of a poached egg on toast and some melon alone. Wolf had popped in only long enough to tell her to warm up and then change into the clothes she’d find in her room. They would be on the fells today. Before she could comment on the drizzle outside, he all but growled at her, “if you want to run on the fells you better get used to training in all conditions.” The drill sergeant was back, she thought. Suddenly she felt as bleak as the weather.
“This is not the treadmill, Michaels,” Wolf yelled the first time she slipped, struggling to keep a pace that was no more than a fast zombie shamble. They hadn’t been running ten minutes when that happened. “Pay attention to your footing.” The rain had gone from a drizzle to an icy spring shower when she slipped and went down hard on one knee. He’d been too far ahead to notice, or if he had noticed, he’d decided to ignore it. She had little choice but to do the same, figuring sourly that the rain would wash the blood off.
The good news was that the camera crew had opted out of this session to protect their equipment from the wet. Grudgingly Wolf had promised to take a few vids on his iPhone. The bastard would probably take pleasure in making sure to catch her falling on her arse. She could see him up ahead doing just that. She’d have flipped him off if she hadn’t needed both arms to keep from doing a swan dive on a particularly rough stretch. A few breathless minutes later and she damn near lost her shoe in the slurp and suck of a sinister looking peat bog. She’d heaved herself upward with enough force to stumble forward barely keeping from going down again. The ‘curse Wolf Jennings’ mantra was back in her head with a vengeance.
British Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set Page 18
