Chapter 11

She was glad to get home and close the door behind her, after giving her neighbor Terrell a little finger wave and shaking her head at his questioning glance. Even though he was technically her best friend and they spoke almost every day, she wasn’t up for company.

Leaning against the wall for a moment, she felt the firmness of the support against her back as she sagged in the hallway, mentally and emotionally spent.

Gavin.

Try as she might, she couldn’t erase the memory of that kiss, and now alone, it was front and center. The beer and the cheesesteak rumbled in her belly, but that was nothing compared to the emotions that roiled inside her.

She wanted him. Wanted him in a way she had never wanted a man before. Wanted him not just as a friend, but a lover.

Wanted the sex.

Not the wine-and-roses kind, either. The wild kind of red-haze, black-panties, bend-me-over-a-pillow-and-pound-me-into-oblivion sex.

Wincing as the mental picture formed, she tossed her keys on the granite countertop and began pacing the kitchen. Gavin could take her to places she’d never even dreamed; she knew it now. There was too much chemistry between them, way too much heat.

And she was perplexed by what was happening to her.

In the past, she’d viewed sex pretty much the way she did sports. Something that was good for her, physical, providing release in more ways than one. She slept better afterward, had a little spring in her step the next day, felt prettier and more feminine.

But it wasn’t like this, an erotic promise that could change you, make you experiment, do the things that wild women did.

She paced some more.

The best part was, she liked him. Gavin was a decent guy, and after being around ballplayers day in and day out, she knew the difference. He wasn’t a dog just looking to satisfy his ego.

Yet she could tell from that kiss he wanted her as badly as she did him.

The worst part was, she liked him. Liked him enough not to destroy the trust that was necessary between a therapist and client. And enough that she knew she could help him and didn’t want to turn him over to someone else. But more than that, they were now friends. She didn’t want to have her feelings for him change and eventually become what they were for Zach.

When she fantasized about her ex, he was falling-face first into a garbage truck.

She couldn’t take the risk. Almost certainly, this would turn out the same way or worse. Right now, Gavin was spending a lot of time with her because he had to. He was in rehab, on the disabled list, and she was there to help him. And he probably wasn’t over that girl, what was her name? Kristin? All of these athletes looked for the same type: the Victoria’s Secret model that they could hang on their arm to be the envy of every other guy.

That wasn’t her. She wasn’t a blonde but a redhead, and there was barely an inch on her athletic body that didn’t contain a freckle. She preferred yoga pants to dresses, physical activity to feminine pursuits. She didn’t care for spas; she grew impatient with facials and treatments unless they were sports massage. Manicures required way too much maintenance, although she did indulge in a pedicure at the beginning of summer; but even then she insisted on the quickie version, not the salt scrubs and lotions that took forever.

The frustration inside her was tighter than a violin string, and she didn’t know what to do for relief. Sure, she could bring herself to orgasm and get that out of the picture, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. It was too much about Gavin, and what they would be together.

Luckily, her assistant would work with him over the next week or so. Gavin was half right to be suspicious that she had decided this because of what had happened between them, but he didn’t know the rest. It was more about getting her own urges back into perspective.

As she went into the bedroom, tugged on a tee shirt, and undid her hair, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Gavin had called her pretty. It had been a long time since she’d seen that look in a man’s eyes and felt that little feminine thrill. From the humidity, her hair was a million copper curls in the evening light, and her turned-up nose wrinkled back at her, scrunching her freckles. To herself, she appeared ordinary, yet Gavin King, who could have any woman he wanted, thought she was attractive.

Damn.

—

“I’m Lisa. Jessica wants you to do a couple of these today until your knee settles down.”

Gavin saw Jessica’s assistant approach, clipboard in hand. She smiled tentatively, indicating the workout instructions.

He nodded, not surprised. Jessica had prepared him for this. But he glanced around the therapy room and saw that she wasn’t there at all. Idly he wondered if she was walking without him.

He let the young woman put the warming pad on his leg, his annoyance building. While the exercises he was permitted to do might help his knee, he was afraid the rest of his muscles were losing their tone. When Lisa removed the pad, he began the subtle movements, bored out of his mind, but then the weights lined up against the wall caught his attention.

“Lisa?” When she returned to his side, he nodded toward the wall. “Can you bring me a couple of the thirty-pound dumbbells?”

“But you’re only supposed to do what’s on the page—” She looked scared, as if someone would hold her personally responsible.

“As long as I do these seated, it won’t put any additional pressure on my knee. Don’t worry—if Jess has an issue with it, I’ll make sure she knows it was my idea.”

She still appeared uncertain, but then Phil entered the room and glanced over at them. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah. I just asked for a couple of weights. Figured while I’m sitting here I can at least tone up my arms.”

“That should be okay,” he said to Lisa, who looked more than a little relieved. She brought him the weights, and he began the reps.

It felt good to hold the heavy iron in his hand, his biceps working to lift the dumbbell. It made him feel stronger, more capable, more of a man. And it was reassuring to find that the exercise came easily to him. While he had been pumping much more weight in the past, he wanted to get a sense of his body’s reaction, and he liked what he felt.

He went from curls to hammerheads, changing the position of the dumbbells. His muscles were beginning to become fatigued, so he rested for a few minutes before starting again. He did sequential repetitions, stopping just before he got overly tired, and then focused again.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her enter the room. He had been about to stop, but now for some absurd reason he wanted to show off for Jessica, prove that in spite of his injury he was still a tough guy. She glanced his way and he pumped even harder, sculpting his biceps. When she approached, he lowered the weight and looked at her innocently.

“So my little routine wasn’t enough?” She grinned at him, and he saw her eyes twinkle.

“Just thought I’d work my upper body a little bit. Not a problem, right?”

“Nope, as long as you keep off that leg.” But she deftly replaced the thirty-pound weights with twenties before shifting to a squat. “How’s it looking?”

She bent over him, unwrapping the knee to check its condition. “Good,” he said. “I think most of the swelling went down. It’s pretty much back to normal.”

“It still seems a little bit puffy, but you’re right. Looks like you’re on track. No heat or anything, right?”

She touched his knee. He knew what she was asking, whether or not there was any inflammation. But there was heat all right. He swallowed hard, affected by her closeness, by the surprisingly soft caress of her hand. It took him a minute to answer her.