Pamela Hearon – His Kind of Perfection (страница 7)
Big blue eyes wide.
The big wide shade-of-blue-Mom-called-Paul Newman–blue eyes caused an unwelcomed pulse to run through Bree’s system.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He picked up one of the price lists from the bar. “I was looking for one of these, and that guy sent me over here.” He nodded in the direction of the weight room where Gil was demonstrating the correct way to perform a bench press to an elderly man.
Ashamed that she’d mistaken this guy’s meaning and allowed her own libido off its leash, Bree smiled through the pain. “I’m the one who should apologize for my language.”
He grinned, flashing a set of killer dimples. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
Bree gritted her teeth at her body’s reaction to his smile. “Still inappropriate on my part, though.”
“I’m Kale Barlow.” He gave her hand a shake and then dropped it quickly. He pointed to the picture of her and Gil on the price page. “You’ve cut your hair.”
“Yeah. That’s a couple of months old. Keeping it in a constant ponytail was heavy and causing the ends to break. I thought I’d try it short for a while.” She hadn’t admitted to anyone, it was also her symbolic cut with Lang and Todd and all her past mistakes.
The new gym called for a new start with a new attitude and a new “do.”
He nodded absently and then seemed to remember why he’d come. “I’m thinking I might be interested in the full-service membership. The one that will let me work one-on-one with somebody.”
“Great!” Bree pushed a little more enthusiasm into her voice than she felt. “What are you hoping to get from working with a personal trainer?”
“Well, I’ve been working out on my own, and I’ve lost over twenty pounds,” he said, pride evident in his voice.
“Good!” Bree breathed a little easier. “Good for you.”
“But...”
Bree’s breath hitched at the word.
“I still need to lose twenty or thirty more pounds.” He stepped out from behind the bar he’d been leaning on and grabbed the spare tire around his stomach, giving it a jiggle.
No doubt about it, Kale Barlow was enough overweight to be unhealthy, and she could help him fix that. But his smile—and those eyes!—held an all-too-familiar element of danger. Bree’s insides started a tug-of-war.
“You know, a personalized weight-lifting program would build muscle tissue,” she offered. “And muscle uses more calories than fat, so you could just follow some nutrition guidelines—”
Gil had finished with the elderly man and now walked up to join their conversation. “If it’s nutrition guidelines you want, Bree here’s your expert.” Gil’s arm went around her shoulder for a quick hug.
Bree forced a smile past her tight jaw muscles. “But, as I was saying, the pounds can really fall off once you start building muscle.”
“But—” Gil interjected again, “muscle is denser than fat, so some people get discouraged when they start strength training because they might see the scale going up instead of down. The trick is to keep an eye on your measurements.”
Confusion settled into the deep blue of Kale Barlow’s eyes. “I’m doing pretty good with the weight thing. I’m really hoping to get some more pounds off fairly quickly.”
“Then Bree is the perfect personal trainer for you if you’re looking at the full-service package.”
Bree flinched. She’d used those same words all day long. Why had the term
Kale’s eyes scanned the list of services on the paper and then nodded. “Yep. That’s what I want. Where do I sign?”
“I’ll grab a membership form.” Bree scurried back to the office for the form and her schedule, glad for a bit of distance to clear her head.
It had been a long day, and she was tired. Maybe even a little vulnerable.
She paused. That was it. Vulnerability was a weakness, and a weakness needed to be turned into a strength.
She loved obstacle courses. Loved the feeling that came with scaling a fifteen-foot wall by climbing a rope. Loved the exhaustion after a grueling six-mile race in mud.
Kale Barlow was an obstacle to her career—waiting to be conquered.
Besides, she didn’t even know him yet. He could turn out to be a total jerk who just happened to be blessed with gorgeous eyes, a killer smile and a deep, sensuous voice.
She hurried back to the snack bar with his form, her schedule and a new resolve.
“Kale’s the one who leased the marina on Jonathan Creek,” Gil told her while her new client filled out the form.
“Dilly’s old place?” she asked, and Gil nodded. Dilly Myers had been a fishing buddy of their dad’s. The Jonathan Creek area was a popular boating and camping area on Kentucky Lake with a huge draw for tourists, but, although it was only ten miles or so away, Bree couldn’t remember the last time she’d been there.
By the time Kale completed the paperwork, Bree was under control and all business, not the least bit worried when Gil left to process the membership fee on the card reader in the office, leaving her and Kale alone. “So, Mr. Barlow, what days and times work best for you?”
“I close the marina at six during the winter. I can be here by six-thirty easily.”
“Monday, Wednesday, Friday good for a start?”
He nodded.
“This Friday work for you?”
He nodded again, and Bree penciled him in.
Gil returned and handed his card back to him. “Here you go.”
“Well, I guess I’m finished here.” He put the card in his wallet and shook hands with both of them. “Thanks for opening this place. I think it’s exactly what I need.”
“We’re glad to have you, and I look forward to working with you,” Bree told him. “And, if you get the chance before Friday, write down what’s in your refrigerator. We’ll start out with a look at how you eat.” She smiled at the grimace he made before he walked away.
Bree and Gil watched until he was out the door.
“You okay with him?” Gil asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Gil shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seemed a little nervous.”
She shook her head. “Nervous? Hardly.”
“Yeah, he’s really not your type, is he?” She heard the taunt come into her brother’s voice. “Thankfully, you always go for those long and lean, sinewy guys.”
“I told you before, no client involvement. Even if my favorite hunky actor, Sam Heughan, walks through our door, I won’t give him a second look.” She closed her eyes and took a long breath to steel her resolve.
When she opened them, Gil was watching her, worry evident in his eyes. “Made you blink,” he said.
THE PARKING LOT of the gym was nearly empty. As he parked his truck, Kale was dreading the lecture ahead of him. He had his list of what’s-in-your-fridge to share with his new trainer, and from the looks of Ms. Not One Ounce of Extra Fat, she wouldn’t be pleased.
But he would face his punishment like a man. He deserved a lecture, though not because of the contents of his refrigerator. It wasn’t like he could control his freakin’ subconscious.
Wednesday night he’d gotten caught in the act of unabashedly checking out the ass of another guy’s wife. Oh, he’d covered well, but Bree Rice had seen through him, he was sure.
Married women were off-limits, sort of a “do-unto-others” standard he lived by.
But it wasn’t the ogling he was most ashamed of. It was the damn erections he’d woken up with for two mornings now, and the person in his dreams was his personal trainer.
As he switched the ignition off, he closed his eyes and pushed Addy to the forefront of his mind. “I’m doing this for you, Addy.” He fixed her once again as his driving force.
Bree wasn’t difficult to spot through the weight room windows in her hot-pink and bright yellow shorts. Her back was to him, but Kale made a point of keeping his eyes focused on her top half this time. Gil, who was spotting her, acknowledged Kale with a nod as she lifted a barbell with a damn impressive amount of weight attached to each end over her head. Her movements were smooth, her posture perfect. She held the weight for a few seconds before squatting to settle the ends back on the stand.
She and her husband shared a high five, and he said something to her. She grabbed a towel and trotted out to meet Kale.
“Hi, Kale. You’re right on time.” Her face was flushed from exertion, making her smile seem to glow as they shook hands in greeting. “And you’re dressed and ready to go. I’m impressed.”
“I’m motivated for change,” he answered, keeping his eyes glued to her face and not allowing them to glance at the perfect cleavage peeking out of her sports bra.
“Then you might be my favorite client.” She laughed and the sound relaxed him. “So, did you bring your list?”