Call To Engage. Tawny Weber
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Do tell,” Chloe insisted, leaning closer with a naughty smile.
“Not that kind of proposition.” Ava rolled her eyes at Chloe’s lash-fluttering attempt at innocence. “As if you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Well, I’ll admit to hearing a thing or two about Mack’s plans to take on a partner.” With her usual exuberance, Chloe waved to shopkeepers and tourists alike as they picked up their pace. “With his travel schedule heating up and all those competition guys wanting him as a trainer, he’s gone as much as he’s here. So having someone he trusts on board would take a lot of worries off his big ol’ shoulders.”
“Uh-huh.” Giving Chloe a narrow look, Ava waggled her fingers in a tell-all gesture. “Spill it. What else have you heard?”
“Rumor is that you’re top of the list, but I think he’d consider Joe Peters or Con Barton if you turn him down.”
Oh. He had names lined up? Ava’s teeth snapped together at the realization that she didn’t have a lot of thinking room with those guys on the list. They were both solid trainers, and Con used to own a gym back east before following his wife to California.
“Hmm,” was all she said.
Chloe pursed red lips and considered Ava carefully. “I think you’d be a great boss, if that matters. Are you considering it? I mean, seriously considering. Not just pacifying Mack by thinking about it but planning to say no.”
Good question. “I don’t know.” Ava tapped her fingers on her thigh a few times, watching the river as a pair of kayakers found their rhythm. “It’s a big commitment, and it’d mean I have to get serious about things like schedules and time frames and budgeting my energy.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know,” Ava said again. “I guess that’s what I have to figure out. I teach enough classes and have enough massage clients to cover my bills, and I can pick up extra classes here and there if I feel like it. Commitment is a big step. Right now I can just go with the flow.”
Of course, she kept throwing commitments into the flow, things like class competitions, black belt testing and new massage classes to increase the range of treatments she could offer clients. But those were all on her terms. It would be different if the schedule were etched in stone. Or at least carved in wood.
Wouldn’t it?
“Only dead fish go with the flow,” Chloe pointed out, her face perfectly serious.
Ava had to laugh. Leave it to Chloe to sum it up perfectly. “Well, I guess I’m still swimming, so I might as well consider it.”
By the time they strode into the gym, Ava realized she wasn’t just considering it. She was seriously considering it. She loved this place, she thought as they worked their way through the early gym rats toward the locker room. She really did. She appreciated the scent of exertion, the pounding music accompanied by swearing grunts and easy chatter.
“Are you sure you don’t want to meet the banker?” Chloe asked, eating the last of the strawberries while Ava stashed her bag in her locker. “He really is cute.”
“Nope. My schedule is full,” Ava replied. “Tonight I’m trying that new Bikram yoga class. Right now I’m heading to the supply closet for a dozen nunchakus for weapons training in this afternoon’s taekwondo class. And at some point I have Mack’s proposition to consider, remember?”
Chloe shook her head, her dreadlocks sweeping over the hemp straps of her beige tunic. “I tell you about the hottest guy you could ever meet, and you turn down a date because you claim you’re going to be busy stretching yourself into a pretzel in an oven filled with sweaty people. Then you receive a career-changing offer and you’re going to count out a bunch of sticks on chains so you can teach pajama-clad Bruce Lee wannabes?”
“Don’t be silly,” Ava shot back with a delighted smile. “I’m going to put my gi on first.”
* * *
WHETHER IT WAS twelve hours down, or simply getting his first dreamless night in months, Elijah woke feeling great.
Rested. Refreshed. Alive.
One way or another, Mack had always been there for him. He’d taught Elijah to drive in his Honda, had stood by him when Elijah had pissed off the family with his choice to join the Navy and had given him the sex talk at the tender age of twelve. Of course, Mack’s version had been more along the lines of birds and birds than birds and bees, but Elijah had been a smart kid. He’d made the translation without too much trouble. Mack had helped guide Elijah after his dad had died, then a dozen years later had gotten him through the darkest time in his life.
Elijah didn’t expect his cousin to fix his problems now; he was a big boy. He’d fix them himself. But it would be nice fixing them here.
With that in mind and ready to get started, Elijah rolled out of bed. He snagged his jeans from the floor, fishing out his cell phone to check the time: 8:05 a.m.
Elijah tugged on his pants, then strode out of the room in search of hot coffee and his cousin. He found neither. But as he wandered the apartment, he did find a note propped against the coffeepot.
Sorry! Got called away to step in as referee for a big match. Gotta follow the money. You chill here, take it easy, rest up. We’ll talk when I get back. I know I got things to explain. Get your massage—you’re booked for 8:30. I’ll be back in a few hours. In the meantime, coffee is ready to go, just push the red button.
Elijah read it twice, but no amount of cryptology training was making Mack-speak any clearer. So he took the last part to heart, pushed the red button and noted he had enough time for coffee and a shower.
He was still feeling good when he stepped out of the apartment. Damned good.
It wasn’t pride that made Elijah take the stairs down to the Fit Wellness Clinic. It was a desperate attempt to work the stiffness out of his leg before someone started pummeling it.
Located in the same building, the clinic was as unisex and comfortable as the rest of the gym, with wide glass doors opening to the street and a juice bar along one wall. The narrow hallway leading to the treatment rooms was guarded by a display counter showcasing fitness gear, energy bars and insulated bottles. Sitting behind the counter was a pretty blonde who looked like she’d gotten lost somewhere between deciding if she wanted to be a hippie or a sex symbol. Her dreadlocks were tied back from her face with a wide magenta hairband, her shirt appeared to be made from hemp and her lips were painted bloodred.
Elijah approached her with a wary smile. “Hi. I’m booked for an eight-thirty massage.”
“You must be Bruce Banner.” Her smile was appreciative. “Mack said you were a big boy.”
“Is that what Mack said?” Not as big as the Hulk, though. Figuring there was no point trying to explain his cousin’s joke, Elijah shrugged.
“You’re in room one. Go ahead and go on in. Strip down naked and get comfy on the table.” She inclined her head toward the first door on the left. “You let me know if you need any help.”
“You the one who’s going to come work the kinks out?” he asked.
“I wish. But you’re down for an injury rehabilitation massage, and we only have one person qualified for that.” Her sigh said that person wasn’t her. “Your therapist will be with you in a few minutes.”
Therapist. Elijah grimaced. He’d had enough of that. But he didn’t figure anyone rubbing his burn-scarred flesh was going to ask what was going through his head. They’d be too busy holding back their gasps of horror.
He stepped into the massage room, letting the door close behind him as he checked it out. The therapists must have free rein on their decorating choices, because this was not a room done by Mack.
The colors were soothing, cream and tan with splashes