As he starts to head toward the leg-press machine like it’s the guillotine, I mentally throw away the bubblegum pep talk that I figure is written in the Caretaker 101 textbook for this type of situation. We’re supposed to be our client’s cheerleaders, but this guy needs something entirely different. Acting entirely on instinct, my hand reaches out and gives him a sharp smack on the ass.
He halts, throwing me an incredulous look over his shoulder. His very nice, very sculpted shoulder, by the way.
“What was that?” he snaps.
I shrug as though touching his firm and, um, perfect ass cheek is no big deal. “Thought you needed a little encouragement.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Oh, absolutely. I could use some encouragement. Why don’t I show you what sort of encouragement would rev my engines?” His eyes drop to my chest, and my nipples tighten in response.
Well…crap. That backfired.
I shoo him forward. “Chop-chop, Langdon. I don’t have all day. Women need to exercise too.”
He gives me an understanding nod. “Kegels. I get it.”
I make a face and jab a finger at the bench. “Sit.”
There’s no fear on his face anymore. It’s perfectly blank, as though he’s preparing himself for failure.
“Okay,” I say, moving over to the machine, grateful that my mom’s had me going to a personal trainer since I was sixteen. Sort of psycho, now that I think about it, but at least I know my way around weight machines.
His right leg immediately falls into place, but he hesitates before moving his left leg into position. He’s wearing blue sweatpants, so I can’t see his injured leg, and although I hate to admit it, I’m kind of glad.
Granted, I could have looked at it last night when I barged in on him in his boxers, but I had more important things to worry about. Like the fact that the guy had some seriously messed-up dreams. And that he knew his way all too well around my body in way too short a time.
I shake my head a little to clear it, carefully avoiding meeting his eyes.
“You’re blushing,” he says. “Whatcha thinking about?”
I give him a glare. I’m pretty sure he knows exactly what I’m thinking about. His expression flickers with something—remorse?—and for a second I think he’s going to apologize for last night. He should apologize.
And yet…I don’t want him to. That would somehow make me into the victim of the situation, and I was very much in control. Well, not in control of my hormones. But I know that if I’d told him to back off, he would have. He hurt my pride, but not me. I’d wanted every second of pleasure that he gave me, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. I don’t want an apology for that.
My gaze locks with his. Drop it.
His eyes narrow slightly before he looks away.
Good boy.
I make a big show of checking the weight, but it’s already at the lowest setting. Probably the factory setting, since I bet it’s never been used.
“Ready when you are,” I say quietly.
His lips press together for a second as he rolls his shoulders in irritation. “Do you have to watch?”
I give a careless little shrug. “I watched the rest of your workout.”
“That was different,” he grinds out. “And, for the record, creepy.”
“Couldn’t be helped. You can do a crazy number of pull-ups. I doubt I could do five.”
“You think you can do one?”
“Hey!” I say.
Paul lifts his hands, all innocence. “They’re hard. I knew a handful of women in boot camp who couldn’t do more than two. Men too.”
I open my mouth to argue, except I have no idea if I can do even one pull-up. I jab a finger toward his chest. “You’re stalling. And I already said I’d answer one of your dumb questions. Don’t try to sweet-talk me into a pull-up too.”
“Yeah, that’s what every guy wants to see. A girl trying to do a pull-up.”
If it’s anything like watching men do pull-ups, it wouldn’t be half bad. There was something about Paul in his gray tank top and those blue sweatpants hugging lean hips as he lifted himself over and over and…
My thoughts about his perfect back scatter as I realize his legs are moving. I have to dig my nails into my palm to keep from touching him in encouragement.
The first time is ridiculously easy for him, and it’s clear he’s using his good leg to lift the weight.