Acting on Impulse

by Mia Sosa

  Show up or shut up. We’re open seven days a week. #notscared

  I turn to Ben. “We need to disable his access to the Twitter account.”

  Nate laughs. “Oh, c’mon. I thought I was flexing my social media skills. Isn’t that what the account is for? You’re always saying I should run the account sometimes, so I did. Plus, I didn’t know then that you two have”—he makes air quotes—“history.”

  Ben blows out a long breath. “Listen, we’re talking in circles. If this guy wants to hire us, we’ll make it happen, okay? We’d be crazy not to. We’ll worry about the whos and why-nots if and when we need to.”

  I’m sure my pout is super attractive. “Fine.”

  Nate smiles. “Okay, then. Besides, Stone was probably bluffing.”

  Ben straightens the sheets of paper in his hands. “Getting back to the lease—”

  The speakerphone in the middle of the table beeps.

  “What’s up, Darryl?” Nate asks.

  Darryl’s disembodied voice fills the room. “Mr. Carter Stone is here to speak with a member of our personal training department.”

  Ben and Nate grin at each other.

  I drop my chin to my chest and let out a weary sigh. I’m done, I tell you. Done.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Carter

  TORI AND TWO men stride through the gym like they’re Marvel superheroes. One of the men reminds me of John Cena, and the other looks like Taye Diggs, only taller and sturdier. Tori’s in the middle, her gaze trained on me as she approaches.

  Given how she teased me on Twitter, I expected her mouth to be curved in a smirk. Instead, she’s wearing a wry expression.

  The Taye Diggs look-alike reaches out to shake my hand. “Mr. Stone, it’s great to meet you. Nate Warner. I’m a fan.”

  “Thanks, man,” I say.

  Nate points at the other guy. “And this is Ben. You know Tori, of course.”

  Ben nods, a warm smile softening his rugged face. The phrase C’mere, you big lug was custom-made for this guy.

  Nate claps his hands together and rubs them. “So, are you here to accept my challenge?”

  His challenge? My body tenses, and my mouth falls open. Dammit. I’ve miscalculated the situation. No wonder the cold is surrounding Tori like a dry-ice cloud. She never encouraged me to come here. “You tweeted that stuff at me?” I ask Nate.

  Ben reaches around Tori and pokes Nate in the arm. “We enjoyed that bit of fun on Twitter, but we weren’t issuing a challenge. Right, Nate?”

  Nate folds his arms over his chest. “Right.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I manage to say as I recalibrate my expectations. “I’m not a very competitive person.”

  Tori snorts, and we all look at her.

  “Sorry,” she says with a reluctant smile. “Continue.”

  Okay, so she’s not completely frostbitten. That’s a relief. I clear my throat. “Anyway, I’m looking for a personal trainer for the next six weeks.”

  “Well, you’re looking at two of our best trainers right here,” Ben says. “Can’t go wrong with either one of them.” Ben puffs out his chest as though he’s personally responsible for the state of Tori’s and Nate’s bodies.

  I peer at Tori. “Ms. Alvarez’s motivational tips drew me in. I’m interested in her viewpoint on training.”

  “He’s interested in something all right,” Ben says under his breath.

  Tori narrows her eyes at Ben and flares her nose. Then she turns to me with a customer service smile. “Mr. Stone, you’re probably accustomed to a certain amount of privacy while exercising, and I’m afraid our gym isn’t equipped to offer you that luxury.”

  “What if we made arrangements to conduct parts of the training somewhere else?” I ask. “I’d be willing to pay a premium for that kind of accommodation.”

  Tori shakes her head. “I don’t think—”

  “That’s a great idea,” Ben says. “If the gym becomes invasive in any way, we can find an alternative location for you. We have colleagues at cooperating gyms who would be able to loan us private space.”

  “Excellent,” I say.

  Tori jumps in. “Mr. Stone—”

  “Carter.”

  “Right. Carter, would you excuse us for a minute? I need to speak with Ben and Nate about something.”

  “Sure, no problem. Mind if I take a spin around the club again?”

  “No problem,” Ben tells me.

  The trio walks to an unoccupied corner of the gym. As they talk, I roam the exercise floor, glancing at them from time to time. There’s a lot of head shaking and frowning going on. Mostly on Tori’s part. A minute later, they return to their original places, and I saunter over to them.

  Nate pats my arm twice. “We’re going to leave you in Tori’s capable hands. After we get a better idea of what you’re looking for, Ben will send you an estimate. If there’s anything else we can do for you, just let us know.”

  “Give me a day or two to work out something with an alternative location,” Ben says. Then he salutes me with two fingers, and the two men walk away, leaving Tori and me alone.

  For several seconds, we do nothing more than stare at each other. And those tense moments sum up what’s going on between us. We’re in a state of emotional limbo, unsure where we stand with one another. It’s an excruciating experience, mostly because I know what it’s like when Tori enjoys my company, and this in no way resembles that.

  Now’s not the time to play games, Carter. Be straight with her. “I thought it was you. The tweets. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come.”

  Her brows lift in surprise, and then her face falls. “I appreciate that, but it doesn’t matter. You need our help, and my bosses want me to do the helping.”

  “But you don’t?”

  She expels a deep breath through her nose. “Can I be honest and say I’m not sure?”

  “That’s fair.”

  “What are you doing here, Carter? Really.”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said I need training. I’ve got about six weeks to get in shape for a role.”

  She tilts her chin up as though she’s calculating what’s physically possible. “What are your goals?”

  “Gain muscle and thirty pounds.”

  A vigorous shake of her head tells me I’m overreaching.

  “Can’t be done,” she says. “Not without major damage to your lean tissue.”

  “What can I do in that time, then?”

  “You’re young, and you’ve got muscle memory. Gaining twenty pounds in that time is aggressive but doable. It won’t be pure muscle mass, though.”

  As I suspected, she knows her field, and it only makes her more attractive to me. “Okay, you’re the expert.”

  “Speaking of . . . why me?”

  “I’ve got a short-term lease at the Mayburn through the summer, so I can stay in Philly for the duration of the training. I think you know what you’re doing . . . and I trust that you’ll be honest with me about my limitations.”

  “You value honesty, huh?”

  She might as well have slapped me. The sting wouldn’t have been any worse than this. “We should talk about that.”

  “No, we shouldn’t. Let’s treat this like the business arrangement it’s meant to be.”

  A gym member brushes against me on her way to the water fountain, and I’m suddenly self-conscious about having this conversation in the middle of a gym. I gesture to the trainers’ area. “Can we . . .?”

  Tori straightens and scans the space around us. “Yes.”

  I follow her to the other end of the gym. “I know you want to act like none of this happened. I bet you’d erase any memories of Aruba if you could. But you can’t, and I won’t. So I need to say this.” Shit, this is hard, because it’s all on me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my alter ego.”

  She draws back, her brows nearly kissing. “Is that how you think about your profession?”

  I grasp onto the back of my neck. “In a
way, yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her words come out like they’ve been wrenched from her lips. She doesn’t want to have this conversation, but she’s toughing it out anyway. And considering even the little I know about her, her willingness to ask the question is no small thing.

  “I just wanted to be Carter Williamson for a bit. I didn’t want the pressure of being that guy. And I figured nothing would happen between us, so there’d be no harm. I was wrong. But I wasn’t trying to trick you. I think I was trying to trick myself into thinking I could meet someone without having to unload the baggage that comes along with being me. Again, I’m sorry.”

  “Okay. I appreciate your honesty now.”

  I hold out my hand. “Friends?”

  She ignores my question—and my hand. “Let’s focus on your training. If we’re going to do this, we’ll have to set a few ground rules.”

  “Of course. Go for it.”

  “I have the final say on your training program.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I’ll design your training program and you’ll follow it, no complaints.”

  She might as well know at the outset that I’m going to be a pain in the ass. It’s in my nature. “I’m an actor, Tori. Complaining is as crucial to my existence as air.”

  She shakes her head. “Fine. You can complain all you want, preferably under your breath, but you must follow the program anyway. The minute you don’t, the arrangement is over.”

  I stroke my chin as I consider her. Plenty of women dig that move. Judging by the bored expression on her face, however, she’s not one of them. “What if something is dangerous?”

  “I promise to keep your safety in mind at all times.”

  “Deal.” I stretch my arm out. “Shall we shake on it?”

  She steps backward and places her hands behind her back. “Ah, ah, ah. We’re not done with the rules yet.”

  “Okay, what else?”

  “You’ll do your best to spare me from being drawn into any media crap.”

  “Tori, I’d like to be out of the limelight as much as you apparently do.”

  “Really? I’d always assumed publicity was one of three pillars holding up a celebrity’s career, with talent and ego being the others.”

  “You’re right, but I can live without the publicity for now. All bets are off when we’re done, though. I’ll want to show off the results of my training.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course you will, but that’ll have nothing to do with me. So we’re on the same page?”

  “Yes, we are. I’m at your mercy.”

  Her eyes brighten, and she dazzles me with a playful smile. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

  Damn, that’s hot. Let’s hope she’s having dirty thoughts about us. “So when do we begin?”

  “Tomorrow. We start with Zumba right here.”

  “What’s Zumba?”

  “It’s a fitness class. High-intensity movements.”

  “Like intervals, you mean?”

  She hiccups on a laugh. “No, Carter, it’s not like intervals. It’s a fitness class, with high-energy movements, and usually lots of women.”

  “So far, so good. What’s the catch?”

  “Lots of Latin dance. Salsa, merengue, samba.”

  “Limbo, too?”

  “No, no limbo, you smart-ass. Although given your experience in Aruba, I’d think you would be happy about that.” She grimaces, probably regretting the reference to our time on the island. “Anyway, sometimes hip-hop is mixed in. Forty-five minutes, including the warm-up and cooldown.”

  “You want me to take a dance class?”

  “It’s an effective way to build your endurance.”

  “Is this one of those classes where the women sneak peeks at the men and laugh at them?”

  “That’s about right.”

  “Let me think about it.” Several seconds pass as I pretend to contemplate her proposal. “I’ve thought about it. No, no, and hell no.”

  She shakes her head. “Saying no is not an option. It’s my way or no way. That’s the deal. Plus, if you don’t go, you’ll miss out on the opportunity to see your classmates in skimpy shorts and bra tops. And we’ll be shaking and shimmying all over the dance studio.”

  “Well, that’s a different proposition. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

  She treats it as a rhetorical question. Smart woman.

  “Will I be the only guy?” I continue.

  “Probably not. Recall the skimpy shorts and bra tops I just mentioned.”

  “I’m there. What time?”

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “It’s a date.”

  She gives me a face that could freeze the sun. “No, it’s not.”

  I deflate under the force of her stare. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  She waves away my explanation. “Forget it. Before you leave today, you’ll need to fill out a health questionnaire. You can leave it with Darryl at the front desk.”

  “Will do. Anything else?”

  She hesitates and mumbles something to herself.

  I lean forward and cup my ear. “Sorry?”

  “I should take your measurements, but if you’d prefer to wait until tomorrow—”

  “Now works, too.”

  “Let’s do this in the office, then,” she says. “Most clients prefer the privacy.”

  I peer at her. “Be straight with me, Tori. If you want to have your way with me, just say so. No need to invite me to the office under the guise of taking my measurements.”

  She levels me with a glare that makes my balls snug up to the base of my dick. They sense the danger, too.

  “You don’t get to make that type of joke.”

  I straighten. “Too soon?” After pouting for a few seconds, I shrug. “Okay, got it. I’ll try again next week.”

  She tries to convey her annoyance, her hands settling on her hips and her breath expelling in a huff, but she’s also holding back a smile. My heart falls into that thump-and-a-catch pattern I experienced when I first saw her on the plane. Then my brain goes to that place I know it shouldn’t: Someday I’m going to marry the woman sitting in 12D.

  “Carter?”

  I shake my head to clear it. “Yeah?”

  “I asked you to come with me.”

  I gesture for her to lead the way, and then I follow her down a long narrow hall with athletics-themed stock photos lining its walls. We enter a small office with two desks and a round wood table. Tori reaches inside one of the desks and pulls out a tape measure and a notepad.

  She stands in front of me and purses her lips.

  “Would it be easier if I take off my T-shirt?” I ask.

  “No,” she blurts out. Her gaze darts to the ceiling and returns to me. “That’s not necessary. I’ll just get a general sense of where you’re at. Could you put your arms out to the sides?”

  “Sure.”

  I do as I’m told, and she wraps the measuring tape around my biceps, her gaze trained on the wall behind me. She glances at the number and jots it down on the notepad on the desk. Next, she measures my chest and shoulders like she’s a tailor sizing me for a suit, her movements quick and efficient. Then she loops the tape around my waist, and now her face is hovering inches from my chest. From here, I can see the strands of gold threaded in her brown hair. I make fists to stop myself from sliding my fingers through the mass to grip her scalp and raise her face.

  I shift and arch my back. “Sorry. I just need to stretch a bit.”

  Her breathing quickens, and then she turns away to jot down the measurements. With her back to me, she says, “Stand with your feet hip-width apart.”

  “You got it.”

  She kneels and slips her arm through my legs to fasten the measure around my thigh. There’s no way I’m going to make it through six weeks of this. I squeeze my eyes shut. Shit. How could I forget why I’m here? I’m here to further my career, and I’ve hired her to do a job. H
er job. She’s been in this position with other men, and they’ve probably acted like assholes, too. Unless she wants me to act on this attraction, I’ll suppress it.

  Don’t be a douche, Carter.

  “What should I do about my diet?” I ask.

  “I’ll set you up with a local nutritionist. She’s excellent. Until then, stock up on bananas, whole milk, brown rice, and lots of protein.” She stands and turns away to write down the last measurements. “I’ll also give you a plan for working out at home. Nothing too strenuous, though. Your muscles will need time to recover.” Then she holds out a sheet of paper. “Feel free to stay here while you fill out the intake form.”

  I take it from her. “Okay.”

  “Don’t forget to leave it with Darryl on your way out. Plan to show up a half hour early tomorrow to fill out your remaining paperwork. We’ll weigh you then, too. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She glances at me and rushes out, closing the door behind her. I didn’t even get the chance to thank her. Hoping to catch her before she’s out of sight, I twist the doorknob. To my surprise, Tori tumbles into me with a yelp, and my hands fly up to hold her upright. Well, that’s one way to catch her.

  “Sorry!” she says.

  “Not a problem,” I say, my arms still wrapped around her shoulders. “Were you coming back in?”

  She closes her eyes and shakes her head as she steps out of my embrace. “No, I was just gathering my thoughts. See you tomorrow.”

  I reach for her hand and stop her. “Wait a sec, Tori.”

  “Yeah?” she says, her eyes shiny and bright.

  “I just wanted to say thank you. For accepting my apology. For working with me. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome, Carter. But don’t thank me too soon. I’m your trainer now, and I’m going to work you hard.”

  In a movie, this would be the point where my character would turn his head and stare into the camera with his eyes wide. Because seriously? She’s going to work me hard?

  Have mercy.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tori

  I’M GOING TO crush his soul. And he has no idea.

  Carter wants me to train him? Okay, sure. But I don’t have to make it easy on him. My job entails getting Carter physically conditioned for his next film. So as I see it, I can torture him at my discretion and still help him reach his objectives. Why should I be the only one suffering?