The Good Girl's Second Chance. Christine Rimmer
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swallow and smooth her already perfect hair. “I agreed to meet him at your house tomorrow in the afternoon to go over the changes he wants. If he still wants to hire me, I’ll work out the numbers and put together a contract.”
This was all news to Quinn. But not bad news. He asked cautiously, “And this is a problem somehow?”
“Well, after Manny and Annabelle left, I started wondering if you even knew that he was planning to hire me. I thought I should, you know, check with you, make certain you’re on board with Manny’s plan...” Her voice trailed off.
He watched her try not to fidget. And the longer he sat there looking at her, the more he came to grips with the fact that the one night he’d had with her wasn’t enough. Luckily for him, her signal came through loud and clear: she felt the same way.
No, he had no time for romance.
But for a woman like Chloe, he might just have to make time.
Should he be pissed off at Manny for taking the situation into his battered old hands? Probably. Manny had no business butting in.
But Quinn had just spent a week keeping himself from climbing the hill to get to her. Manny’s bold move had brought her right to him. Pissed off? Hardly. Downright grateful was more like it.
Not that he’d ever admit that to Manny.
A small, embarrassed sound escaped her. “Oh, God. You didn’t know, did you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Manny’s in charge of the house and we agreed when we bought the place that it would need major upgrades. It’s his call who he hires to make that happen.”
“So you’re okay with it—with me, working in your house?”
He was more than just okay with it. “Sounds like a good idea to me—I mean, if you’re willing.”
She gave him one of those glowing smiles that could light up the blackest night. “Well, then. Yes. I’m willing, definitely.” She got up. “So, then, I guess I should be...”
He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. He pushed back his chair. “Now that you’re here, how ’bout I show you around?”
“The gym, you mean?”
“That’s right.”
“Yes. Yes, I would like that.”
“Well, okay, then. This way...”
* * *
Chloe followed Quinn past the reception area, into a series of wood-floored classrooms with mirrored walls and different kinds of equipment stacked in the corners. In one, a fitness ball class was in progress. In another, the participants were paired up for intense stretching. They went upstairs to the second floor and the giant cardio room as well as a room with all kinds of weight machines and one with boxing equipment and two rings.
He explained that Prime Fitness tried to offer something for everyone. “We have martial arts for all ages, boxing, kickboxing, general fitness and yoga classes...”
She listened and nodded, just glad to be walking along beside him, glad that he seemed to want to keep her there longer, to be drawing the moments out before she left.
On the top floor there was a beginning women’s self-defense class in progress. They watched through the observation window as a big guy in a padded suit tried to take down a woman about Chloe’s size. The woman shouted and fought him off violently, kicking and slugging at him, spinning away and sprinting off as soon as she got the guy to let go of her.
Watching that made Chloe’s mouth go dry and her palms feel clammy. It made her think of Ted and how she ought to be better prepared if anyone ever hit her or threatened her again.
“What do you think?” Quinn asked.
She turned to him, met those wonderful, watchful eyes. “I think I might want to take a class like this.”
There was a bench a few feet away. He backed up and sat down. She left the viewing window and sat beside him.
He said, “This class is wrapping up. A new one will start next week, and there’s an evening class, too. Starts in two weeks. It’s an eight-week course, one two-hour class per week.”
“I’ll be fighting off guys in padded suits for eight weeks?”
He shook his head. “No. Initially there are sessions on staying out of violent confrontations in the first place.”
“How?”
He chuckled. “What? You want an outline of the course?”
“Can you give me one?”
“You’re serious?”
“I am, yes.”
He watched her for a long moment. And then he shrugged. “Well, all right. The class starts with a section on the nature of predators. Basically there are two types. Resource and process. Resource predators want your stuff. Process predators are in it for the power and the thrill. They want to mess you over. They actually enjoy committing crimes. The class shows you how to identify what kind of scumbag you’re faced with and how to deal with him. Next comes a study of avoidance, because the best option is always steering clear of any situation where you could get hurt. After avoidance, there’s a section on deescalating conflict. If you can’t escape trouble before it happens, the second-best option is to diffuse it. And finally you’ll learn how to fight off an attack.”
“Wow,” she said, and wondered if any guy ever looked as good in shorts and a T-shirt as Quinn did. And he smelled so good, too. Clean. Just sweaty enough to be exciting...
He grunted. “See? More information than you needed or wanted.”
She shook her head. “That was exactly what I wanted to know. And how do you know all that? Do you teach this kind of class yourself?”
“No. But I’ve been through every class that we offer here. I run the place. It’s my job to know what I’m selling. I want to franchise this operation. This location will be the model for Prime Sports and Fitness gyms all over the country.”
“You dream big.”
“Hey. Balls to the wall. It’s the only way to go.”
She made a decision. “I’m taking the next evening class.”
“Am I a salesman, or what?” He got up. “Come on.” He put his big hand at the small of her back. Such a light touch to wreak such total havoc through every quivering cell in her body. “We’ll sign you up.”
At the front desk, Quinn tried to comp her the class. She shook her head and whipped out her checkbook. Once she’d paid for the course, he walked her out the door.
He caught her arm as the door eased shut behind them. “So, Chloe...”
She was achingly aware of him, so close, his big, warm fingers wrapped lightly around her upper arm. He walked her forward several feet along the sidewalk and then pulled her gently around to face him.
“Yeah?” she asked low, her voice barely a whisper.
He stepped in closer and spoke for her ears alone. “The other night...?”
Her breath tangled in her throat. “Yeah?”
“You said just for that night, just that once. But you’re here and I’m looking in those fine blue eyes and I’m wondering, did you really mean that?”
Her stupid throat had clutched up tight. She swallowed convulsively, and then shook her head hard.
His brow rumpled in a frown, but the hint of a smile seemed to tug on his mouth. “I’m still not sure what you’re telling me here.”
And somehow she found her voice again. “Sorry...”
“Nothing to be sorry for. You just say it right