Breathe for Me

chapter Three





One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four.

Xander pounded his feet in time with his counts but still couldn’t lose himself in the rhythm and relax mindlessly into the zone. His brain churned in a tight circle.

The new occupant of unit 1605 had been genuinely scared when he’d found her stuck in the stairwell like a headlights-hit bunny. Her pallor, the fear in her eyes had been too much for a little unexpected fire drill. But she’d gotten distracted—he’d seen to that. To the point that she’d touched him. Then the fear had flashed back. As if she’d thought she shouldn’t have reached out. Well course she’d shouldn’t. Not with that giant rock on her finger.

The f*cking engagement ring.

What the hell was she doing coloring up around him, her body responding so swiftly when she was engaged? It hadn’t been the chill tightening her nipples, it had been arousal. The look in her eyes had been pure sexual yearning and he—

“Tell us about the tee-shirt girl.” Hunter interrupted his thoughts with a goading challenge.

“Nothing to tell.” He pushed his pace a little faster, but his buddies easily stretched it out, keeping up with him.

“What tee-shirt?” Rocco asked.

“His Ski Summerhill one. You know. The one from last millennia,” Hunter explained. “Some leggy brunette was wearing that and nothing else during the fire alarm last night.”

“You let a chick hijack your favorite tee-shirt?” Logan laughed. “There’s plenty to tell.”

“There’s nothing. She was swimming in the pool when the fire alarm went off.” He frowned. He shouldn’t have asked for his shirt back. Then he’d have reason to knock on her door again.

“After midnight?” Rocco asked.

“You mean that paddling pool,” Logan snorted.

“It’s not that small. There are very few apartment buildings with rooftop pools in the city, you know.” Xander answered smartly, happy to veer the conversation away from her.

“If you were in my building you’d have a massive lap pool in the basement.” Rocco drawled.

“I loathe indoor pools,” Xander bit back. “Especially ones locked underground.”

“Your loss. I like the mirrors and the white, white tiles of my modernist masterpiece,” Rocco said smugly, deliberately thickening his accent.

“Of course you like the mirrors, you’re a vain perv.” Xander growled.

“So she was swimming at night and filling out her swimsuit nice and tight, right?”

Damn Logan, he’d always been persistent.

“And you made a move?” Logan added.

“Shall we take this to the ring so I can beat the bullshit out of you?”

Xander heard the astonished bark of laughter from his cousin. Yeah, violence wasn’t his thing and they all knew it. But he could do with some kind of fierce workout today—too much aggression was surging through his veins.

“Why the ring? Why not here?”

That’d be right. Hunter was always willing to take up a one-on-one violent challenge.

“What’s her name?” Logan took them back to the topic again.

Xander damn well didn’t know. And he itched to know everything. It wouldn’t be hard to find out some. He’d installed the security systems of their apartment complex. He could access the files of everyone in the building if he wanted to. He’d get name, references, some details. But that didn’t make it right. Spying wasn’t his thing. Certainly not stalking.

So he’d stand down. Plenty of other women in the city to have the easy come, easy go kind of fun he liked. If Blue-eyes was taken, she was taken. He didn’t steal. He’d given that up years ago.

But she’d bothered him the whole damn night. As far as he was concerned she was the biggest temptation ever with her hot body, her sweet but sarcastic lips and her big eyes that reflected a contrary mix of desire and independence. He’d experienced one-look-lust plenty of times. But he’d never felt it so strong. Pure allure. And it had been powerfully reciprocated. She’d wanted him to touch—wanted to touch in return—but she shouldn’t have. He’d tossed and turned all night with a cripplingly painful hard-on. So yeah, he was feeling pissy this morning. Furious with her. And himself.

“You didn’t get what you wanted?” Hunter sounded surprised.

“That’s why he’s thumping the pavement like he’s out for a fight.” Logan laughed.

“Frustration.” Nodded Rocco. “Blue balls hurting?”

“F*ck off.” Xander pushed his pace faster.

“Come on Xan, you know you like a challenge.” Hunter again.

Yeah. And there was the problem. Because part of Xander liked to play with fire. And everything about that new tenant was fire.



It was only 6 a.m. but Chelsea had to escape her small apartment. She’d thought the single bedroom and small lounge were plenty big enough for her. But not this morning. She felt like a hamster without the wheel to burn the calories—bored and bursting with energy. And while the building had the amenities she wanted—specifically that outdoor pool—she wasn’t up to that yet. Heat rippled through her body as, for the five thousandth time, she recalled the moments in the stairwell. In his arms. He was incredibly good looking and charming. Devilishly charming. But so what? She wasn’t here to fool around. Except one part of her that had died almost two years ago, had roared to life.

Libido. Lust. The urge to get jiggy.

She blew out a breath, rationalizing during the elevator ride to the ground, to stop herself reminiscing too closely on the previous night. Having a sexual urge or two was a good sign. Progress. She was getting back to normal—her new normal. But she wasn’t acting on it. Not with the super-sized stud who lived some floors above. She’d re-enter the game at novice level, not with the World Champ of flirt’n’f*ck.

Because that’s sure as hell what he was.

Nor did she want to enter the fray again with some guy who did the whole ‘He-man’ over-protective stuff. She could have gotten down those stairs—he’d just gotten off on the ‘rescue’ moment. So not what she wanted. She’d spent the last two years being cosseted and having everything done for her. Here she was all about doing it for herself.

Yet here she was again doing more Kegel exercises to try to stop her body’s rising excitement at the mere thought of him. What she needed was fresh air and sunshine and then a solid day at work to keep her unruly imagination occupied.

She walked, lifting her chin with resolve, giving the doorman a quick smile of thanks before looking out to the street—and stopped so suddenly the person behind almost barged into her.

“Sorry,” she murmured as the woman strode past. But she barely noticed her reply.

“You alright?” The doorman asked.

She barely heard him either, too dazzled by the sight running past on the other side of the road. Four of them running along the opposite sidewalk, looking like a Nike ad. All of them athletic gods in shorts and tees. Hell, one was without the tee. It was—

“Oh my,” she couldn’t contain herself.

“I know.” The doorman stood beside her. “They do it every day.”

Chelsea managed a sideways glance. Doorman’s nametag said he was Brad. Right now Brad was practically drooling. She didn’t blame him. And she too couldn’t resist watching them weave along the pavement.

“I make sure I’m outside every day at this time,” Brad confided with a laugh. “Rocco doesn’t often run with them, but man…”

“Who are they?” She asked, feigning innocence.

One was the good doctor of course. And he wasn’t looking remotely nerdy enough to be a doctor. Too tanned, muscled, outdoorsy. She recognized one of the others as the guy who’d stayed with the older lady. The other two she’d never seen before. Now she had, she’d never forget them.

“Xander Lawson—the tall one—is one of ours,” Brad explained. “Lives in the penthouse. While Hunter, the one with the short hair, is only in residence when he’s not off doing secret things for the military. Logan Hughes, bare-chested is next to Xander, former ski champ and current face of that new clothing line.”

Of course, Chelsea nodded. That’d be why he looked vaguely familiar. Chelsea was more a summer Olympics girl than winter, but she’d heard of the daredevil slalom skier—mainly for his off snow antics. And now he was a model? Actually it was fully believable. While Xander could pull on a wicked smile, Logan was sinful with those sharp angles and planes of his ultra-chiselled face.

“Back of the pack is Rocco St Clair. Owns a hotel and new club that’s currently in vogue.”

Well of course it was. With that guy in charge? Clearly Brad’s favorite, he had the Latin edge to match his name. Any place that had these men as patrons would be popular. Four of them. All magnificent specimens. But it was the one running front and center who had her eye. Smokin’ hot.

“Highlight of my morning,” Brad admitted. “And that of every waitress in that diner. And any other woman watching.”

Chelsea blushed and turned. “I’m not—”

“Honey, we all are,” Brad interrupted with a wink. “I’m a taken man, with a hunk of my own to go home to, but I still appreciate perfection in all its four forms.” He sent her a coy look. “And I hear it was an interrupted night last night. No doubt you’ll be needing a coffee.”

Doormen always knew everything, didn’t they? But surely he didn’t know about Xander and his Superman act.

She definitely needed coffee. She’d grab one from the coffee cart outside work but it was still too early to head there. She slowly walked towards Riverside. A little exercise would be good for her leg and release the energy hit making her muscles quiver. Plus she figured Xander wouldn’t be coming back this way. He was already out of sight. So much faster than her, in so many ways.

She kept to the side, letting the exercise freaks and early-to-workers stream past. Even this early there were plenty of people around, looking like they’d been to the park or the gym, bright-eyed tourists with cameras in hand, jaded looking teens looking like they were just heading home. The vibrancy and diversity of people inspired her. Ditto the tall buildings and green spaces. She’d been right to come to Manhattan. If she was going alone into a big city, might as well be the best on the planet. She glanced up, smiling at the buzz.

That’s when she saw him.

From round the block, Xander was running back again. Towards her this time. Hunter was with him but the other two had peeled away. He didn’t glare at the ground the way she did when trying to exercise. He had his head up and yeah, his gaze unerringly locked onto her.

She stared at him as he gazed right back at her, pounding his way closer. The guy was barely sweating, there was just a sheen to his skin and while his face was an expressionless mask—all angles and planes. His eyes were fierce. How could such ice blue eyes look so hot?

In that split-second all her senses spun out. Desire ricocheted back. She realized she’d stopped walking and now stood in the middle of the sidewalk. The drumming in her ears muted the sounds of passersby and traffic. Her heartbeats crescendoed and quickened.

She couldn’t possibly be afraid. She was in a public place, it was bright and early in the morning, there was no danger. Except for the way he seemed to look right into her and bring the most inappropriate thoughts to the forefront of her brain—skin and sighs and heat. She’d had sex before. Good sex. But she’d never been so overwhelmed by merely a man’s presence. Never so turned on by nothing, not even a touch.

It was embarrassing. But truthfully? It wasn’t so much him who frightened her. But her reaction to him. Too much, right? While the sensual side of herself might be starting to function again, it wasn’t going to be with him. Sensible people didn’t play with dangerous weapons. And he was definitely dangerous for all that charming smile and casual flirt.

Anyway, he wasn’t interested. Not now she’d let him believe she was ‘taken’. And she was, right? Tom mightn’t be here anymore, but more than that, she’d changed. She wasn’t a thing to be ‘taken’. She certainly wasn’t some mindless creature, all malleable and open to Xander’s use, there to enact his every sexual wish...

She clamped her jaw, furious with the burn searing her insides. The thought of that couldn’t be turning her on more?

She ripped her gaze away, saw a yellow car cruising towards her on the street. She raised a hand, shouted. The driver saw her, pulled over.

Chelsea crossed the path to meet it, horrifically conscious of how relentlessly Xander watched her. How much closer he was coming. Her limp was worse, her leg had totally seized. But she lifted her chin and hobbled to the cab.

She breathed out as she shut the door, wanting those hot urges to escape on the air. She had far too much else to think about. She really wasn’t ready. She was here to resurrect her studies, her career. But the coolness of his reaction in that moment bit—like it was an opportunity lost.

She was a coward.

“You’re early today.” The girl at the coffee cart said twenty minutes later. “I’m still setting up. But I won’t be a tick if you don’t mind waiting?”

“Thanks. Don’t worry, there’s no hurry.” Chelsea answered. She couldn’t even get into the building yet anyway—not for another five minutes or so. She watched the woman prepare the stand and smiled. Dressed top-to-toe in black, the barista also wore roller skates, kneepads and looked whippet fit.

Admiration and envy surged through Chelsea. What she’d give to move that fast and free again. Instead her leg was still aching slightly from the hurried hobble to the cab.

“You skate to work?” She couldn’t resist asking the obvious. Those skates were sleek with a king hit of retro style. In other words, awesome.

“Good training for derby.”

“Roller derby? That totally vicious all-chick sport scene?” Chelsea laughed. She shouldn’t be surprised, attitude oozed from the barista’s pores.

The woman grinned wickedly. “Uh huh.”

To be that strong? Yeah, Chelsea was jealous.

The barista glanced at her expression and laughed. “You should try it sometime.”

Chelsea wished.

“Black coffee, right?” The girl smiled.

“You remember everyone’s orders?” Chelsea was impressed, she’d only been coming to the cart this week.

“Well some are easier than others.” The woman shot her a dry look. “Especially one that simple.”

“Oh, right.” Chelsea palmed her forehead. Dunce.

Coffee queen skated up to her and offered her a marshmallow with a wink. “I’m Luisa.”

“Thanks Luisa,” Chelsea took the candy with a grin. “I’m Chelsea.”

“You work in this weird building?” Luisa jerked her chin towards the brightly colored building behind them as she banged the coffee machine.

“Only as an intern. Only a couple of months.”

“Cool though?”

“Yeah.” She’d only been there the week and she was trying not to panic already. “It’s a challenge.”

“Even better. Can do, will do, right?”

“I hope so.” Chelsea grinned at her attitude. “You like the coffee scene?”

Luisa shrugged. “It’s a means to movement. Far and fast.”

Yeah, it was clear she was a traveller, her accent certainly wasn’t from these parts. Chelsea couldn’t pick it—Australian maybe? “Hence the wheels?”

“You got it.” Luisa winked as she handed her a steaming cup. “Who do you intern for?”

“It’s an art and design institute, in a tiny office suite on the fourth floor.” Chelsea cautiously sipped the scalding liquid and felt the kick.

“So you’re an artist?”

“Kind of. I’m still studying.” She’d finished an undergrad in Fine Art and was now working on a post-grad Urban Planning and Design qualification—because artists like her needed a day job. She was a couple of years behind but at least now she was progressing again. She loved research. Wanted to do a bigger post-grad project if she could—and travel more with it. “What about you, where are you from?”

Before the girl could answer Chelsea’s phone chimed. She didn’t need to glance at the screen to know who it was, only one person called this early. Every day.

“Sorry.” She stepped away from Luisa’s stand with an apologetic grin. “I have to get this or there’ll be trouble.”

“No worries.” Luisa waved her away.

“Hey Mom.” Chelsea walked towards her building.

“How are you, honey?”

Her mother’s warm tones softened Chelsea’s frustration. The calls were born from love, she had no right to resent them.

“Good. Really good,” she answered. The project is going well.” Chelsea grinned at the security guy who was just unlocking the doors.

“You’re at work already?” Her mother asked.

“Uh huh.” Chelsea ruefully muttered, knowing what was coming.

“But it’s so early. Are you sure you’re getting enough rest?”

Chelsea inwardly sighed. “Mom I’m fine. Truly.” No way was she going to mention last night’s false fire alarm. Her mother would have a fit.

She loved her parents but right now she was glad they were miles away. She needed them to be for a while. After two years of close concern and being wrapped in cotton wool, she needed the space to take things on in her own time and way. “I’m fine Mom. Honestly I am. Trust me.”

“I do. I just—”

“I know.” Of course she understood her mother’s concern—her daughter had nearly died. Her daughter’s life had changed irrevocably. But her daughter, Chelsea, now needed to get on with it. “I’m okay. I’m really okay.”

“Alright.” Her mother’s sigh echoed her own. “You have a good day.”

“I will. You too.”

She would have a good day. She’d focus on her work. She was going to have to work all hours to get it all done. Not that she’d tell her mom that either.

A new city, new job, new apartment. Alone. All challenge. And perfect.

But she wasn’t adding a new man to that list. Definitely not some over-sized, over-confident, doctor with a Superman syndrome. No matter how magnetic he was. She wasn’t even going to think about him again. Not even a little.

She went up to her desk and got planning. An hour later she pinned up the new sketch for her pop-up ‘art’n’eaterie’.

“You really think you can pull it off?” Steve, the other intern, asked as he passed her desk on his way in, one of Luisa’s coffees in his hand.

“Absolutely.” At least, she thought so. Her pop-up pizza project was ‘out there’ and she had to fit it around all her other duties, some of which were definitely of the more menial variety. But as an intern she couldn’t expect to be working on the fun stuff all the time. She had to pull her weight. That was part of the attraction.

“Be awesome if you do,” Steve said.

She nodded. She really wanted to use it as an example for her post-grad research paper. “How’s your project going?” she asked.

“Not as well as I’d like.” Steve parked on the edge of her desk and started talking through his issues.

Chelsea leaned back in her seat and listened, enjoying that he was asking her advice—that he seemed to value her input.

No one here knew the full story of the last two years. She’d briefly mentioned that her limp was the result of an old accident and hid the scarring under long skirts. She’d explained the gap in her studies as time away travelling. That was a small lie, but it meant no one looked at her with wariness or pity in their eyes.

Admittedly she wasn’t exactly wholly independent. She had scholarship funding to help see her through the summer internship, but there was no real ‘special treatment’ in that, it was normal. And she had backing from her family—her father’s friend had secured her the short-term loan of the apartment. But now here, she was alone and on her way. What success she made of this time was up to her.

There was just that one last hurdle to overcome.

She worked late and picked up a carry-out on the way home. She walked quick as she could into the apartment building. There were no ridiculously handsome men out running—to her relief, right?

She flashed the night manager a tight smile and took the elevator to her floor. She ate a little, then got changed and waited until it was after hours and the pool would be empty. Then she tried once more.

Though the water looked warm, Chelsea shivered. The last time she’d dived under it had been late at night. The last time she’d gone in water she’d nearly drowned.