by T. M. Cromer
“Well, since you would be staying in the guest room, I think it would show him it’s important to help a friend in need. It would be different if you were planning on sleeping in my bed.”
The color flooding her face was telling. A rush of pleasure shot through him, similar to how he’d felt when he managed to make her embarrassed in the past. Maybe it was a bit twisted he got off by making her blush. He’d be damned if he could stop though.
“Were you planning on sleeping in my bed?” he teased.
“No!” she practically shouted.
He hid his smirk behind another sip of wine and then registered his glass was empty. Reaching over, he topped off both their drinks.
“So you’re saying you don’t want to sleep with me?”
“I-I…” That exact second, she registered he was toying with her. “Dammit! Not funny, Zack. Not funny at all.”
“It kind of is,” he chuckled at her indignant expression.
Pointing her fork at him, she stated, “That is the prime reason I don’t want to stay here. You enjoy torturing me. Isn’t it enough you get to do that at the gym?”
“I got to get my jollies where I can.”
“Mmhmm. I’m not talking to you. Hush and let me eat this delicious meal.”
His bark of amusement had her grinning, and Zack had to admit he loved her smile. He always had. A bit shy with a twist to the left, indicating she was trying hard not to outright laugh.
“If I promise not to harass you, can we make dinner conversation?”
She eyed him warily. “I suppose.”
He clamped his lower lip between his teeth to stem another tide of laughter.
“Why did you choose romance as your genre for writing?”
“Technically, it’s romantic suspense. I like to throw in a little mystery here and there,” she corrected. “After graduating college, I started writing freelance articles for a local newspaper. It didn’t take long before I decided standard journalism was somewhat boring.”
“Yes, but why romantic suspense? Why not murder mystery or children’s stories?”
Something in his tone must have told her he was truly interested. After a long, curious look in his direction, which he failed to interpret, she explained, “Thrillers and murder mystery take a great deal of plotting and research. More than standard contemporary romance to my way of thinking. Every sentence, every word, needs to be perfect in order not to give anything away too soon.”
“And suspense doesn’t?”
“It does, but not in the same way. It’s difficult for me to explain. Regardless, I can knock out a novella in roughly a month, have it to my editor, and then published within a few weeks after receiving it back. Full length novels take me about five months or so, including edits, to publish. I think a thriller or mystery would take me much longer from sheer obsessing.”
“Fair enough, and children’s books?”
“Eventually I would like to try my hand at those, but not yet. It’s taken me this long to get established as an indie author and have a decent following,” she explained. “But enough about me. How in the world did you get started in the fitness business? Did you always have the goal of opening a chain of centers?”
“I blew out my knee playing ball in college. ACL tear. While rehabbing it, I had to go through some rigorous training. I found I enjoyed it. There’s something about the challenge of transformation.”
“Transformation?” she snorted. “What did you need to transform?”
“After my injury, I got a bit depressed. I don’t know if you knew it or not, but I was at college on a sports scholarship. When I destroyed my knee, I was no good to anyone, or so I thought. I went into a funk, turning to beer and junk food. Fifty pounds later…” Zack trailed off, letting her come to her own conclusions.
“No! I don’t believe you were ever overweight,” she exclaimed.
“Believe it. It’s what drove me to help others.”
* * *
Erica sat back, surprised by his words. For whatever reason, it made her feel a little better about her own weight gain. Maybe that was his intention when he told her the tale.
“You really don’t judge.”
His brows shot up. “What made you think I would?”
She shook her head, unable and unwilling to explain. “Never mind.”
“We talked about your weight goals earlier today. You mentioned wanting to lose about forty pounds. I tried to tell you then, and I want to reiterate it now, you don’t need to,” he said. “It strikes me that you might be trying to get back to your high school weight. You were too skinny then. I can’t see you losing more than fifteen pounds, twenty at most.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me, because I really don’t.”
Sighing her frustration, she stood to take her plate to the sink. Zack stretched to place a hand on her arm in an effort to halt her retreat.
Unspoken words clogged her throat, and a burning started in her nose and eyes. Blinking, Erica tried to will away the emotion threatening to consume her. How could she explain how her ex’s hang-ups had become hers? How she’d fallen victim to the emotional and mental abuse of some jerk? Enough so it undermined her confidence and left her feeling so much less of a person than almost everyone around her.
“Hey, what’s this?” Zack asked softly.
Mortified he’d picked up on her distress, she attempted to pull away.
“I’m sorry. I, in no way, meant to hurt your feelings. I was trying to be honest. You are beautiful, Erica.”
“You don’t have to flatter me to make me feel better,” she mumbled, head down.
“I’m not trying to. Like I said, I’m trying to be honest. To me, you really are beautiful. I wish you could see yourself as I do,” he said, standing to remove her plate and pull her around to face him. He cupped either side of her face and forced her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. I’m never going to lie to you, Erica. Not as your trainer, and not as your friend. Got it?”
Locking onto Zack’s sincere gaze, her heart felt a little lighter. There could be no doubt he was telling her the truth. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Okay, there’s a notepad on the counter. Make your list of things to replace, and I’ll take care of cleanup.”
A short while later, there were two complete pages of items she should get immediately. Hopefully, the insurance company wouldn’t screw her around. She had a little money in savings but not a whole lot. The biggest thing would be the purchase of a new laptop asap. The deadline for her latest novel was looming, and she didn’t want to push it back if she could help it. Thankfully, she’d backed up all her manuscripts to the cloud. Barring any complications, she should be able to retrieve the files with a minimum of fuss.
“How’s it going?”
Zack stood in the doorway of the kitchen, towel over one shoulder and hands on his lean hips. Good grief, the man was hot as hell and lethal to her system. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be sighing and pining like a teenager with her first crush. Oh who was she kidding? He was her first crush. Her only crush, if truth be told.
“I think I’ve got a good handle on some basics,” she responded in turn.
“This has been quite the New Year for you, huh?”
She snorted her agreement. As he walked farther into the room, the words carved into the paint on her car came back to her. He’s mine, whore! Whoever had this vendetta against her wanted Zack for her own. Hell, she couldn’t blame the woman, but seriously, did she need to go all Rambo and burn her house down?
“Zack, have you thought anymore about who could be doing this? An ex-girlfriend? A woman whose advances you’ve rejected? Maybe even a female employee?”
A frown creased his forehead as he contemplated her words. In the end, he shook his head with a frustrated sigh.
“None I can think of.”
“But you do see this has to be about you right?” At his nod, she continued, “Ho
w often do you act as personal trainer? Do you normally take the new clients coming in, or do you pass them to your staff?”
“Why is it important?”
“I’m trying to establish a timeline. If it’s standard practice for you to work with a new member, than whoever did this should already know that. It means that, in and of itself, should not have set her off—I am assuming it is a her, but in all actuality, it could be a him,” Erica explained. “However, if it’s out of the norm for you to act as a PT, then maybe it was the trigger. Otherwise, I believe it had to be us spending time at the smoothie bar after my workout.”
The slow up and down motion of his head told her he saw where she was going with this, and it also indicated his agreement with her reasoning.
“My taking on new members is purely random, and only when we are short staffed,” he clarified. “With any luck, our perp will have been caught on the exterior cameras. I emailed a copy of the digital recording to the police earlier tonight when you were showering. It backs up to my computer here, as well as to the mainframe in the main office.”
“Good. Do you mind if I take a look at the recording? Another set of eyes searching for clues couldn’t hurt.”
A warm smile flashed in her direction. “If you hadn’t already told me you specialized in suspense, I might have guessed it, listening to you go all Sherlock Holmes.”
“I’m probably closer to Watson in my deductive reasoning.”
Zack chuckled and exited the room without another word. Within minutes, he was back with his personal laptop. After rattling off the login info, he left the room for a second time to refill their wine glasses.
“Ah, a man after my own heart,” Erica sighed while accepting one of the glasses.
“You mentioned something earlier about a vat of wine. Just trying to do my part,” he quipped.
“Yes, well, stop being so perfect. You are ruining it for other men.”
“That’s the plan.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. If only she could believe he meant it! Shaking her head, she pressed the play on the video.
Together they painstakingly went through the video three separate times to determine no small detail was missed. All they received for their efforts was eye strain. There had been a hooded figure, but unfortunately not even a glimpse of skin was caught, which made even identifying ethnicity out.
Finally, Erica closed out of the program and sat back to finish a fourth glass of wine. She wondered if part of the problem was that she was now too tipsy to care about the night’s events. Here she was, in front of a warm fire, snuggled into a leather sofa, a fine glass of vino in her hand, and in the company of the only man who’d ever truly lit her fuse. Granted she’d been a teenager, but it appeared as if nothing had changed.
“Why have you never married?” The question was out before she could contain it.
His black brows shot up in surprise before a sardonic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Never met the right woman, I suppose. You?”
“Never met the right man, I suppose.” To avoid his probing gaze, she concentrated on the flames and took another sip of her drink.
“You’ve never been tempted?”
“To get married?” At his nod, she shook her head. “No. Not once. I’ve had boyfriends. Some I’ve even lived with. But mostly, by the time they moved on, I was more than ready for it to happen. You?”
“I’ve had a few girlfriends. But honestly, I was too busy raising Jacob. Between him and the business, I didn’t have much time for anything else.”
“Yeah, I get that. It’s how I feel about my writing. Most of the men in my life didn’t care to come in second to my budding career.”
“Their loss.”
The low timbre of his voice had her glancing up. The intensity in his expression had her convinced he meant what he said. A shiver of awareness shot through her. God, what she wouldn’t give to be twenty pounds lighter and toned so she would feel comfortable with his blatant invitation.
“I mean it, Erica. It was their loss.”
She nodded and avoided looking in his direction again. Deep down she knew he was right, or at least thought she knew. When a person’s self-esteem was in the toilet, it was a heck of a lot harder to believe.
“Thank you.”
Zack cleared his throat and made to stand. “I have a few things I need take care of in the early morning. I’d better turn in. I know you lost your PC to the water damage, but if you would like to use mine until you replace yours, feel free to do so.”
“I keep finding myself in the position of saying ‘thank you’. It doesn’t feel like enough at this point.”
Bending over her, he cornered her on the couch, moving to within an inch of her lips. “I’ll tell you what. One day, when we’ve done away with all your insecurities, you can thank me properly. Until then, this will suffice.”
He closed the gap between them to capture her mouth with his own. The kiss was butterfly soft. It lingered on for a mere moment before he straightened to leave.
The distance restored her sanity. “Is that why you are doing this? For sex?” She didn’t want to think she’d misjudged him, but she needed to know.
“What? No! Good grief, Erica. What do you take me for?” His anger was palpable. Hurting his feelings hadn’t been her intent, but his reaction was enough to put her mind at ease.
“Please don’t be offended. I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings. Not to drag in my personal baggage, but there have been too many in my life.”
He gave a brisk nod before leaving her to her own thoughts. Boy she screwed that up royally.
Chapter Five
Zack’s alarm went off at five a.m. the next morning. For the first time in his career, he was tempted to ignore the incessant beeping. He’d spent most of last night tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The thought of having the one girl who’d gotten away under his roof toyed with him.
He knew she’d stayed up late. The faint glow from the living room light could be seen from beneath his door. He stared at it for what seemed like hours, willing her to come to him in his room. The white-hot desire for her had him dealing with a case of blue balls until he took matters into his own hands, so to speak.
Dragging himself out of bed, he threw on his running clothes and took off on his normal early morning jog. The chill was perfect to cool his heated skin, still hot with the idea of making love with Erica. He had to get his mind off of her and on to the matter at hand. There was a crazy person out there willing to do harm to her, and neither of them could afford not to be diligent. The thought made him pause his normal stride and almost stumble.
Should he leave her alone? He pivoted to turn back when he saw a police cruiser go by. Seeing it was Bucky, Zack waved him down.
“Hey, Buck. Do you mind keeping watch on my house for about a half hour? You can stay in your car. The idea of leaving Erica alone right now, after everything that’s happened, has me a bit nervous. I was hoping to kill some of this restlessness with a jog.”
“No problem, Zack. My shift is ending in fifteen minutes so I can stay as long as you need me to.”
“Thanks, man. In that case, I’ll run my normal route and be back within the hour. Come by the gym this week, and I’ll hook you up with a free membership.” With a wave, he took off to for his morning exercise.
The person responsible for Zack’s current agitation watched as he jogged away, oblivious to the fact his little whore’s life could be snatched away in a mere heartbeat. Flicking the lighter in her hand open and closed, she kept her eyes trained on his backside. She didn’t bother to duck down in her vehicle as the cop he’d been talking to drove by. What an oblivious buffoon! More than once, she’d watched as Bucky Whitmore patrolled the area. If the criminals of this small town ever knew how inept he was at his job, they would have a field day with their larcenous activities. Her maniacal laughter rang out. Soon she would enact her plan, and have her reveng
e on Zack. Men and their routines. Ha!
Roughly an hour later Zack waved to Bucky and entered his residence. Not that he expected Erica to be awake after staying up half the night, but to hear the house so eerily quiet unnerved him. Silently, so as not to disturb her, he cracked open her door to peek in. McFatty sat on the end of the bed, tail flicking to convey his irritation. The lady herself was sprawled on her stomach, head shoved halfway under the pillow.
In a weird way, this idiosyncrasy delighted him. He was partially tempted to smack her on the rump protruding at a left angle out of the covers. He grinned at the view. Damn, she could say what she wanted about having to lose weight, but he could nibble on her ass all day long. She was that delicious. He’d always been a butt man.
With a respectful nod to her furry guardian, Zack backed out of the room and went to shower. He had to get Human Resources on the phone and deal with his lackadaisical employees. Some days, it felt as if he were a glorified babysitter.
Showered, shaved, and dressed, he headed to the kitchen to make his standard omelet when he noticed a confused looking Erica standing by the island. He watched as she swung left, then right as if searching for something. Suspecting he knew exactly what that something was, he stepped farther into the room, careful to keep the counter between them.
“Where is it?” she growled.
“It?”
“The coffee pot, machine, French press—anything of that nature! You know—it!”
“Ah. Yeah, about that—”
“Don’t you dare tell me you don’t have anything resembling coffee in this house.”
For safety’s sake, Zack knew he had to contain his amusement.
“I don’t.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! You’re dead to me,” she spat.
He couldn’t help it. There was no human way possible to suppress the laughter which burst forth.
“Really? You are going to stand there and laugh in my hour of need?”
