by Abby Niles
She returned, plopping on the chair across from him. He frowned at her clothing choice. The floppy shirt and jogging pants said ”Stay back” as clearly as any blinking neon sign. Dante sighed. Yep, she’d had time to think. It was time to do things his way.
“Like I said, before you dashed out of here like a scared rabbit—”
“I didn’t dash.” She stiffened, her shoulders going straight.
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“I was in my nightclothes. It was inappro—”
“I liked it.” He scooted to the edge of the couch and leaned his elbows on his knees. “A lot.”
Her face went fiery red.
The magnitude of what Amy told him hit home. Caitlyn truly was inexperienced. Had no idea how to handle a guy giving her a compliment or expressing how fucking hot he found her. How was it possible?
The woman drove him crazy. Men should be lining up at her door.
“Listen, Caitlyn. Amy has told me to take it slow with you. To get to know you and let things happen naturally. That doesn’t work for me. It’s more frustrating to pretend I want to be a friend than to just ask you out.” He met her eyes. “So here it is. Caitlyn, would like to go on a date Wednesday night?”
He held his breath while he waited for her answer. He’d gone against everything Amy had advised, but it was time to put the cards on the table.
Silence stretched between them…and then stretched some more. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked like a time bomb. He finally exhaled and scowled. Why was it taking her so damned long to answer?
She sat in the chair, twisting her fingers together as if this was the hardest decision of her life. Inexperienced or not, was it really that hard for her to go out with him?
He slapped his hands on his thighs. She jumped.
“Okay, I guess I have my answer. I won’t bother you anymore.” He stood and stalked toward the door. At the same time his hand closed around the doorknob, he felt a light touch on his bicep.
“Don’t go.”
The whispered words hung in the air. Dante glanced over his shoulder. She wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she seemed to find the floor fascinating. He turned and lifted her chin with his finger.
He searched her green eyes, finding vulnerability and unmistakable desire that caused his heart to skip a beat. “Why is it so hard to say yes?”
She swallowed. “You’re more than I’m used to, Dante. I’m not sure if I find the idea scary or exciting.”
The raw honesty in her confession allowed him a glimpse into Caitlyn Moore. He saw a woman desperately wanting to say yes but... A fierce need to protect her both overwhelmed and stunned him.
“I’m still just a man, Caitlyn. A man insanely attracted to you. And I would really like to take you out.” He kissed her tiny nose. “What do you say?”
She inhaled a quivering breath. “Yes.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
“No, that wasn’t so hard.” She shivered.
He kissed each corner of her mouth then lowered his forehead to hers. “We’ll have fun. I promise.”
With one last chaste kiss, he opened the door and left. Sticking around her apartment would only increase her anxiety. She needed time to absorb what had changed between them.
Wednesday night, however, all bets were off.
Chapter Eight
What had she done? That was the question of the day.
Day? Ha! More like week. No, year. Heck, lifetime.
Cait stepped around the cars in the parking lot as she headed toward the YMCA. The promise of a killer headache whispered at the back of her eyes. A headache would be welcomed. It’d give her an excuse to cancel this outrageous date.
She snorted. Dante would never buy that. Knowing him, he’d show up on her doorstep with a glass of water in one hand and two ibuprofen tablets in the other. The ailment would have to be more serious. Something not so easily remedied.
Flu?
Stomach virus?
Bubonic plague?
No, none of those would work. Cait snatched the sunglasses off her nose and stuffed them in her purse before she yanked open the door.
Her stupid sensitivity. One glimpse of hurt in Dante’s expressive blue eyes and she’d crumbled. She’d wanted more time, time to stand in front of the mirror naked, to accept herself, to be ready to handle this very fine man and give him everything he deserved when they finally slept together.
Yet here she was, two days later, a date planned, with him. She had no other option but to say yes. Not after his reaction to her silence. He’d been hurt, which confused her, but she’d had to make a decision. So she’d made one. She only hoped it wouldn’t blow up in her face.
She hurried down the long corridor toward the fitness room. In ten minutes, her first class would start, which she was emotionally unprepared for. The Dante distraction couldn’t have come at a worse time. She needed to focus on her program and on helping others. Not on an overdeveloped muscle man.
Oh, but what an overdeveloped muscle man.
Ack! No more!
Cait mentally slammed the door on all thoughts of Dante. Stopping outside the fitness room, she peered inside. Twenty-five people—ranging from thirty to one hundred and fifty pounds overweight—waited.
She spotted Becky talking to another woman, and Cait smiled. She’d been worried those heckling boys had run her off.
Clapping her hands, Cait walked into the room. The crowd stilled and went silent, watching her every move. A moment of nerves fluttered in her chest, and she hesitated in her opening speech.
They struggle the same as you. They are not here to judge.
The reminder calmed her and she took a deep breath.
“Welcome to Altering Assumptions! I’m Caitlyn Moore. You can call me Cait. I’m very happy to see you all here today. You’ve taken the first step to a new you. Everyone here deserves a pat on the back. I’m going to open today’s session with questions. Anyone?”
A man with glasses stood in the back and timidly raised his hand. She read the white nametag stuck to his green shirt. “Yes, Doug?”
He fiddled with his glasses. “Why did you start this program?”
“For a couple of reasons. I’ve always been overweight.” She held up her hand when grumbles started. “Before some of you get too carried away in your ‘What does she know about being overweight’ rant—I’ve lost eight pounds. So trust me, I know the struggles.”
Eyes widened around the room. Hands flew into the air. Cait shook her head. “One question at a time. Let me finish this one first. One of the hardest things I had to learn to conquer was the assumptions I had about myself. I’d tried every diet in the book and always failed. Why would this time be any different? It was hard in the beginning. I felt so alone, and building the confidence that I would succeed wasn’t easy. I would’ve given anything to be a part of a group that truly understood. I started tossing around the idea for a program like this about two years ago.”
“What made you finally do it?” Doug asked.
Cait smiled. “My second reason clinched it. About a year and half ago, an incident occurred that stayed with me. I’d come to the gym for a run. I stepped up on a treadmill next to this super skinny chick I’d never seen here before. We exchanged smiles, and I started my warmup.”
She started to pace the room. “The chick beside me was walking at a slow pace, until I finished my warmup and booted up to a run. Next thing I know, she’s running beside me. The poor thing probably had never run a day in her life. Her form was all wrong with her arms flailing, legs all over the place as she tried to keep up with me. She made it about a minute. Then she stopped the treadmill and took a walk around the gym to catch her breath.”
Cait stopped. “You’d think this was the end of my story. It’s not. I do intervals when I run, two-minute run, one-minute walk. That day, I’d powered down to my walk, then I went back up to my run. I kid you not, the chick saw me running
again. She hopped back up on a treadmill, a different treadmill from before, mind you—and broke out into a sprint. She made it about thirty seconds before she had to hit the emergency brake on the machine and leave the gym. She assumed because I was overweight, she should have been able to keep up with me. She was wrong. I may still be overweight, but I am physically fit. There are two types of assumptions—the ones you have about yourself, and the ones other people have about you. We’re here to change them both.
“This room is a place of camaraderie, where everyone has the same goal, has had the same struggles. There will be no judgment in this class. We are here to support one another and if we never find our way to skinny, at least we’ll find our way to fit.”
Applause erupted from the members. Her heart hammering, she looked at each individual. Hope and determination shone back at her.
She’d done this. She’d given them reason to be here, to want to be here. It was everything she’d dreamed of when she’d created this program. She refused to fail them. And the more encouragement she gave them, the more she realized she needed to do the same for herself.
…
The sound of Caitlyn’s voice drifting out of the fitness room stopped Dante in his tracks. He slowly stepped backward to peer inside. She stood in the middle of a group of people. Her eyes were bright, tension absent from her face. It was the first time he’d seen her with her guard down and what he saw awed him.
He remained behind the door so he wouldn’t be seen, but could easily watch.
“Who has ever felt uneasy coming to the gym? Ever felt like a class was judged as easy just because you were in it?”
Dante’s brows furrowed. She’d said something similar at the deli.
A majority of the hands went up.
“Who has felt embarrassed to go to a class concerned they wouldn’t be able to keep up or be forced to walk out?”
The hands stayed in the air.
“Who is tired of feeling this way?”
The hands rose higher, fingers wiggling.
“That, class, is what we’re here for today. Now let’s get down to business. Everyone grab a step. No risers.”
Once the class had their platforms on the floor, Caitlyn arranged her microphone around her head, then started the music. Upbeat 1980s rock and roll filled the room. Dante stood mesmerized at her take-charge attitude. There was no hesitance, no shyness, no vulnerability. The woman before him was completely confident in her ability to lead this class. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.
Hands on her hips, she stepped from side to side. “Let’s get your heart pumping.”
The class mimicked her movement, and Dante lost his view of Caitlyn behind the jostling bodies. He shifted, careful not to be discovered and ruin her mood.
Finally, he found a spot that made her the center of his observation, and he soaked up every relaxed feature, every genuine smile, and every sweet laugh. How he wanted her to be like this with him, so carefree and full of life.
Would he ever get past the barriers she erected any time he was around? He wanted a chance, a legitimate chance, to win her over. Hopefully, tonight he’d get the opportunity.
As the hour progressed, her personality became stronger, more dominant. Dante found it hard to stay concealed. Everything in him wanted to stride over and kiss her senseless. This Caitlyn was a dangerous turn-on. Someone he’d find it hard to take it slow with. Hell, he was already having problems with that as it was.
He watched as she pushed her attendees. At times, she reminded Dante of how Mike pushed him to the point of collapse. Never relenting, and expecting everything in return. But unlike Mike, her energy was so high and enthusiastic she carried the class along, pushing them harder that they realized.
“Can you feel it?” she yelled.
No answer.
“I can’t hear you! Can you feel it?”
She received mumbles.
“You can do better than that! Yell if you can feel it.” The whip-like authority in her voice shot a bolt of lust through him, and he stifled a groan.
The class hollered. God knew he wanted to holler, too.
A young woman in the back of the class stopped, hands on her abundant hips, chest heaving, frustration clear on her beet-red face.
Caitlyn focused on her. “Don’t you give up. Keep moving. I know you’re tired, but dig deep. You can do this.”
The girl inhaled, nodded, and with determined steps, continued her workout.
As the class drew to an end, Caitlyn become more aggressive. Energy zinged in the room—and through him—but he could tell that despite her whooping and hollering, the members were drained. Some barely kept up the relatively slow pace that Caitlyn had set, while others simply stopped, bent over at the waist as they dragged in huge mouthfuls of air.
Dante felt bad for them. From what he could see, the participants in this room didn’t exercise much, if at all. Caitlyn’s workout hadn’t been easy by any means. These people should be proud of themselves for hanging in for as long as they had.
“This is where the real work begins! You’re tired. You want to give up. Never give up. Don’t let your mind stop you.”
How true those words were, and as she intended, her comment had an impact on the class. Every member got their second wind, straightening and doing as she demanded.
She was so motivating, inspiring, as if she knew exactly what each person in her class was struggling through. How could she be so in tune with them?
Dante observed the remainder of the class. The woman never ceased to amaze him. He knew two different people: the shy, vulnerable Caitlyn, and the confident, leader Caitlyn. Both drew him. Both sparked desire he found exciting. But which persona was the real Caitlyn?
When the class ended, the members hung around to ask her questions. Dante impatiently waited as she smiled and gave encouragement. He wanted to see what would happen when she became aware of his presence. Would she withdraw, or was she so pumped from her class that he’d get a taste of this Caitlyn?
Finally, the last member left the room and Dante emerged from his hiding place. Her eyes rounded, and she stopped wiping sweat off her chest with a towel.
“How long have you been watching?” Her gaze darted around the room, never truly meeting his eyes.
So she’d reverted. He swallowed his disappointment at being the cause. No. He wasn’t the cause. There was another, deeper reason. Could he coax her to finally share her story? Let him understand what made her so hesitant to get to know him? “Most of the class, honestly. Caitlyn, you’re a fantastic instructor.”
Red flamed her cheeks. “Thank you.”
The way she’d expressed that, as if she was unsure he meant it, pushed him to make her understand. “I’m not blowing smoke here.” He stopped in front of her. “You were fantastic.”
The corners of her mouth twitched, and Dante saw a glimpse of the other Caitlyn. His heart stuttered. He chucked her under the chin. “Smile. You know you want to.”
One corner of her mouth lifted, her eyes brightened with amusement. Oh, he liked her gazing up at him like this.
“I’ve never seen an instructor so in tune with her class. It was like you knew what they were thinking.”
Her smile disappeared.
What had he said now? He reviewed his comment in his head. No, there was no way that could’ve been taken wrong.
Caitlyn gave a long, drawn out sigh. “It’s because I do know what they are thinking.”
“How so?”
“Lord, Dante. Are you going to make me come out and say it? I used to be extremely overweight.” She squared her shoulders and met his gaze dead on. “Obese.”
Shock was his first reaction.
Seeing her now, it never occurred to him she’d had a weight problem. However, as the information sank in, everything started to make sense—the big clothes, the shyness, the hesitation, Amy’s warning.
Why she had such a hard time coping with the attraction sizz
ling between them.
“Wow.” What should he say? “Congratulations” sounded completely stupid. So he went with, “That’s awesome.” Dante grimaced. That sounded dumb as well.
Caitlyn shrugged off his words. “Yeah, well, I’m still working on it.”
He frowned. She didn’t need to lose another pound. She was gorgeous. Inside and out.
Dante studied her. Other than the direct eye contact when she said the word “obese,” she had avoided meeting his gaze. Instead, she scuffed her sneaker on the floor. Judging by her bowed head, he assumed the motion fascinated her.
The conversation with Amy came back. Caitlyn wasn’t just dealing with insecurities; she was dealing with a whole new her. From everything slowly becoming apparent, she was having a hell of a time dealing with her new life and her new body.
Dante fought a smile. He’d help her find herself, and in the process, show her how beautiful she was through his eyes.
…
When Dante remained silent, Cait peered at him, searching for any sign of disgust or withdrawal. She saw neither. She’d dreaded the moment she would have to inform him about her weight problems. Not that she was ashamed of it. Far from it. But telling someone who’d never had a weight issue, who’d made it his life to be physically perfect, that she struggled every day to do the same was daunting.
He regarded her curiously. “How much weight have you lost?”
“Eighty pounds.”
Other than the widening of his eyes, he gave no reaction. “Impressive. How’d you do it?”
“Hard work and determination.”
He smiled, drawing her attention to the slight tilt of his lips. Memories of his mouth on hers, soft and caressing, were an aphrodisiac and she prayed he’d kiss her again tonight.
Damn it, she’d spent the last hour not thinking about him at all, and now all she could see were images of them doing some heavy petting on a couch, floor, table—heck, she’d take the top of the washing machine. Spin cycle.
“I guess you’d know a little about hard work, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
A full smile split his lips, and Cait thought she’d melt into a puddle at his feet.
