Normally, Jaclyn wouldn’t mind jogging to the gym, but for the first time in a long time, she’d swiped the snooze on her cell more than once. She overslept and loved every dreamy, naughty, Mr. Austin minute of it.
But time with the fantasy man had taken its toll, and she had to get going. After hurrying through a quick Oral-B electric brushing and scrambling into her workout gear, she ordered a Lyft and raced downstairs.
The gym, although just a few blocks down the road, was eons away from the glamorous life she usually found herself surrounded by, or often drowning in. A bit of a dive, it housed some of the best equipment and training for serious boxers and mixed martial artists.
Jaclyn loved everything about it—from the rank BO that infused each breath of air, to the dingy grit and grime that covered nearly every surface. It beat the hell out of those worthless dance classes she’d taken as a child.
Her toddler years were spent rubbing shoulders with all the right children, those from families as exalted as hers, and finally ended with dance class. Twirling in pointe shoes was hardly the life she was meant for. The other children’s snobbery was only outdone by their cruelty to a little girl who never felt completely comfortable in her own skin.
Fattie Jackie.
Two taunting words from another miniature ballerina had shattered her love of dance, and in some ways, her love of herself. Not that it mattered now. She’d long ago rationalized that the harsh judgment made her stronger. Determined. Driven to do whatever she needed to in order to be the best of the best.
A fighter.
And a woman who’d always prefer everyone call her Jaclyn.
Well, almost everyone.
She arrived at the gym on time and raced to her muscular trainer.
“You’re late,” Dylan shouted in her direction.
“I’m exactly on time,” she said as she climbed into the ring.
She tugged a scrunchie from her wrist and wrangled her long, thick locks into a high ponytail. With no time to hit the locker room, she dropped her bag from her shoulder to the corner. Her trainer grabbed her hand, slipping a bright red boxing glove on it before lacing it up, then followed with her other hand.
“For you, on time is late,” he said before they touched cheeks with an air kiss, then he playfully smacked her ass. “Ready?”
* * *
After an hour and a half of giving kicks and punches as well as she got, the lesson was over. Another hug and cheek-to-cheek kiss with her trainer, and Jaclyn was ready for a shower. She returned to the corner of the ring for her gym bag, when a hot bod vigorously beating a punching bag caught her attention.
Who is that?
It had to be someone new. Or, at least, a man who didn’t usually frequent the gym at this hour. Based on his drenched shirt, he’d been pounding away for a while.
Jaclyn watched him doggedly beat the bag in a disciplined rhythm. The dark gray cotton of his sweat-soaked shirt molded to his lean physique, showing off every too-hot-for-prime-time muscle of his back. He rounded the bag, still keeping the tempo of his alternating punches. She followed the lines of his taut biceps toward the rugged angles of his face, now in full view.
What the hell?
Without care or concern for her disheveled appearance, she swung off the ring ropes and hightailed it over to him.
* * *
“Are you following me?”
Richard hid his smile at the sharp question, not missing a beat on his punching bag. “Oh, hello, Jaclyn. Following you? I was here first. I saw you arrive,” he said, his focus remaining on the bag.
“Really? Because I didn’t notice you.”
He huffed out a laugh. “I feel like that’s becoming a thing with us.” His internal counting continued as he pummeled the bag. “You sound like you don’t believe me.”
“That’s because I don’t.”
“You want me to prove I was here first?” He spared her a quick glance but didn’t miss a beat. “Sure. You came in, hopped into the ring, you and your grabby trainer kissed cheeks, and then he spent the next ninety minutes playing with you under the pathetic pretense of training. We good?”
Jaclyn’s squinting pout let him know she was far from good. “It’s training. Serious training. And you sound jealous.”
He scoffed. “I’m not jealous.”
Internally, though, he sighed. I do sound jealous.
Hiding his quick once-over of all her curvy goods, he managed to maintain his momentum, barely glancing her way as she leaned against a nearby piece of workout equipment.
“You have nothing to be jealous about,” she said. “I’ve never actually kissed him.”
Her mocking tone hit a nerve.
“No, you just let him smack your ass on what I can only presume is a regular basis. Must be a trainer’s perk.”
Fine. I’m jealous.
Whatever.
I happen to be right.
Richard stayed focused on the bag as he pushed each punch harder. He didn’t need to look at Jaclyn. He could feel her fury boring into him until she stormed off toward the locker rooms.
Fuck.
With a final heated blow, he slammed the bag into submission and charged after her. At the entrance to the ladies’ locker room, he knocked.
“Jaclyn?”
A muffled “go away” came from behind the door.
Turning the handle, he opened the door a crack. “Jaclyn, I’m counting to three, and then I’m coming in. So, please cover up. One. Two.” Two and a half. “Three.”
He stepped in. Walking around the corner, he found her waiting, her arms folded tightly across her sports bra. She stood, irate and unconcerned that the T-shirt formerly covering her body was now draped over the bench.
“This is a ladies’ locker room. You might have barged in on several women.”
“Really? In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the only lady in this joint this morning. Maybe ever. Look, I’ll leave in a minute. I’m . . . ” Still recovering and panting from his workout, he sucked in a breath and calmed his speech. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I was frustrated, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It just righteously pisses me off that this d-bag is taking advantage of you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and lowered her hands to her hips. At least she’s opening up.
“Look, Richard, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No? How long have you been taking lessons?”
“Three years.”
“Three years?” Again, he breathed through his anger. “Then why can’t you do a Muay Thai kick to save your life? And why are his touchy-feely hands all over you?”
Without warning, Jaclyn pivoted and shot a hard kick at his waist. His wildcat reflexes allowed him to catch her foot without trying. Frowning, he kept her in his controlled grip.
“See? It’s everything Muay Thai isn’t. Unpolished. Predictable. Powerless.” He gently released her foot.
Her expression sheepish, she regained her balance as she accepted the feedback. “Okay, so maybe my technique isn’t great.”
“Jaclyn, it’s not your technique. It’s him. And even though you didn’t ask, in my humble opinion, he needs to keep his hands to himself.”
“Would it make you feel any better to know he’s gay?”
Richard dropped his head in disbelief and shook it from side to side. She can’t be this naive.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gay? Not a chance. Have you ever seen him with another man?”
Dumbstruck, Jaclyn stood there for a moment, overthinking the question. Then her forehead smoothed and her brown eyes turned playful. “Look, we can argue the point all day, or I can just prove it. But I’m going to need you to help me out. How do you feel about the name Bennett?”
Richard’s lips twitched. “Another con? My father warned me about women like you. Fine, who do you want me to be? The protective brother? The jealous lover?”
* * *
Richard followed as Jaclyn’s feet pounded the sidewalk before she sped up to a jog. “Dylan, wait up!” she yelled after her trainer, practically chasing him down the street.
“Hey, girl,” Dylan said, swooping in for a hug, and she hugged him back.
Richard’s lip curled up. I can’t wait to kick this guy’s ass.
“Hey,” she said, “I wanted to chat with you before you left and introduce you to Richard—”
“Bennett,” Richard said quickly. “Richard Bennett. But call me Rick.” He pushed his hand between Dylan and Jaclyn, forcing them apart for a handshake.
“Oh, great to meet you. I noticed you earlier.”
Well, that makes one of them.
“Listen,” Jaclyn said. “Rick and I were sort of having a spirited debate.”
Richard took the reins, diving headfirst into his role. “Knowing Jaclyn, she’s gonna beat around the bush, so let me just jump in here. How’d you like to have a drink sometime? Maybe tomorrow night?”
Dylan’s gaze bounced between Jaclyn and Richard until a shy smile formed. “Yeah. That would be great.”
Richard grinned in return. “Terrific. I’ll get your number from Jaclyn, and we can go from there.” He held his hand back out for a shake.
As Dylan took it, Richard tugged him in for a big hug, earning himself a nervous laugh from the would-be queen. Dylan leaned back, and Richard released him. Jaclyn tried to hug her trainer good-bye, but he backed away, waving instead.
Richard’s farewell wave was wide and satisfying. “Guess I scared him off,” he said to Jaclyn once Dylan was out of earshot, unable to keep the boast from his tone.
“He’s probably just eagerly anticipating a sweaty night with his new hot stud. How much of a method actor are you? Should we pick up some condoms?” A devilish grin came over her face and she eyed his sweatpants playfully. “Magnums?”
Between the skimpy workout clothes pasted to her glistening body and her long ponytail draped seductively over her shoulder, he wanted nothing more than to give Jaclyn a glimpse of the length he had in store for her. But definitely not now.
“If he’s gay, I’ll spring for the lube,” Richard said, and her eyes popped open wide. “I’m telling you, he’s not gay. He’s using you.”
She shook her head. “No one here knows anything about me, or even my last name. So, why would he be using me? For what?”
The genuineness of her question took Richard by surprise. He stepped behind her and took her shoulders, turning her to face her reflection in a nearby storefront window.
“Listen. I barely know you, but I can tell a few things. Your guard is up. Like, always up. So you’re used to people trying to use you, most likely for your money. And when they’ve earned your trust, your guard comes down. You’re not even bothering with speed bumps or tire spikes. Your two speeds are ‘hell no’ or ‘by all means.’ But look at yourself.”
He waited as Jaclyn swept her gaze over her own reflection in the storefront window. She sucked in her stomach a little as she scrutinized her curves, then returned her gaze to his, waiting for him to continue.
“You’re sweaty. A little bruised. Not a trace of makeup. Hair rushed up into a ponytail. Maybe brushed your teeth, maybe not. Ten bucks says you haven’t showered,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. “Jaclyn, you’re beautiful. Exactly like this.”
The reflection of her crinkled brow demonstrated her disbelief. And distrust.
He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “Men—some men—will seize every opportunity to take advantage of a beautiful woman . . . in ways that have nothing to do with money.”
She spun around. “How do you know I have money?”
He raised a brow. “You coached me into conning two grand from those guys last night, and only took a free drink. Yeah, you’re hardly struggling to keep the lights on.”
Jaclyn contemplated his words for a moment. “And what about you, Mr. Bennett? Aren’t you eager to take advantage of a beautiful woman?”
Her provocative words were more than a little alluring, and he smelled a trap. Those gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes were sharp, intent on uncovering every secret stashed in the darkest recesses of his mind.
He cleared his throat. “Me? I would, but I’m terribly gay at the moment. Now, before I get ready for my big date, we have some prep work to do.”
“We?”
“Yes, and we’re going to start by fixing that pathetic kick of yours.”
Jaclyn pursed her lips at him as he strolled off. He turned, walking backward toward the gym as she folded her arms over her chest, refusing to budge. So he coaxed her with a double-dare grin.
“Come on, it won’t take long. And I recently came into some fast cash. If you’re very good, there just might be lunch in it for you afterward.”
Her face brightened and she gave in. Her brisk steps increased to a jog, and she quickly caught up with him. “Very good depends on your definition. And hasn’t anyone ever told you there’s no such thing as a free lunch?”
Richard laughed. “Who said anything about free? Trust me, between our lessons and helping me prep for my date, you’re gonna earn it.”
He propped open the squeaky gym door, enjoying the sight of her skipping lightly through.