“You’re right. He’s an arrogant douche. Let him lust after you until he has blue balls. Serves him right.”
That made me smile. Cary could always do that. “I doubt that man has ever had blue balls in his life, but it’s a fun fantasy.”
He shut his netbook with a decisive snap. “What should we do tonight?”
“I was thinking I’d like to go check out that Krav Maga studio in Brooklyn.” I’d done a little research after meeting Parker Smith during my workout at Equinox and as the week passed, the thought of having that kind of raw, physical outlet for stress seemed more and more ideal.
I knew it wouldn’t be anything close to banging the hell out of Gideon Cross, but I suspected it would be a lot less dangerous to my health.
“There’s no way your mom and Stanton are going to let you come out here at night multiple times a week,” Cary said, hugging his stylish denim jacket around him even though it wasn’t more than slightly chilly.
The converted warehouse Parker Smith used as his studio was a brick-faced building in a formerly industrial area of Brooklyn presently struggling to revitalize. The space was vast, and the massive metal delivery-bay doors offered no exterior clue as to what was taking place inside. Cary and I sat in aluminum bleachers, watching a half-dozen combatants on the mats below.
“Ouch.” I winced in sympathy as a guy took a kick to the groin. Even with padding, that had to sting. “How’s Stanton going to find out, Cary?”
“Because you’ll be in the hospital?” He glanced at me. “Seriously. Krav Maga is brutal. They’re just sparring and it’s full contact. And even if the bruises don’t give you away, your stepdad will find out somehow. He always does.”
“Because of my mom; she tells him everything. But I’m not telling her about this.”
“Why not?”
“She won’t understand. She’ll think I want to protect myself because of what happened, and she’ll feel guilty and give me grief about it. She won’t believe my main interest is exercise and stress relief.”
I propped my chin on my palm and watched Parker take the floor with a woman. He was a good instructor. Patient and thorough, and he explained things in an easy to understand way. His studio was in a rough neighborhood, but I thought it suited what he was teaching. It didn’t get more “reality based” than a big, empty warehouse.
“That Parker guy is really hot,” Cary murmured.
“He’s also wearing a wedding band.”
“I noticed. The good ones always get snatched up quick.”
Parker joined us after the class was over, his dark eyes bright and his smile brighter. “What’d ya think, Eva?”
“Where do I sign up?”
His sexy smile made Cary reach over and squeeze the blood out of my hand.
“Step this way.”
Friday started out awesome. Mark walked me through the process of collecting information for an RFP, and he told me a little more about Cross Industries and Gideon Cross, pointing out that he and Cross were the same age.
“I have to remind myself of that,” Mark said. “It’s easy to forget he’s so young when he’s right in front of you.”
“Yes,” I agreed, secretly disappointed that I wouldn’t see Cross for the next two days. As much as I told myself it didn’t matter, I was bummed. I hadn’t realized I’d been excited by the possibility that we might run into each other until that possibility was gone. It was just such a rush being near him. Plus he was a hell of a lot of fun to look at. I had nothing nearly as exciting planned for the weekend.
I was taking notes in Mark’s office when I heard my desk phone ringing. Excusing myself, I rushed over to catch it. “Mark Garrity’s office—”
“Eva love. How are you?”
I sank into my chair at the sound of my stepfather’s voice. Stanton always sounded like old money to me—cultured, entitled, and arrogant. “Richard. Is everything okay? Is Mom all right?”