opened his mouth to refute her claim. Changed his mind. Words weren’t going to change hers.
‘That’s my concern. Right now I’m psyched up for the session in the gym we agreed on.’ He took her hands, held her at arm’s length. ‘Hmm, nice tracksuit—you look as good in green as in blue. Give me five minutes.’
‘I’ll meet you there.’
He strode to his room, fantasising about the bathers she might be wearing under that outfit as he hastily pulled on T-shirt, bathers, track pants and sneakers. She was waiting for him, sitting on the press-ups bench. The lights were brighter than he usually set, the music a pleasant background sound.
‘Bike or treadmill for warm-up?’ she asked, offering him a bottle of water. ‘I don’t mind either.’
‘I’ll take the bike.’ It was still set up for him. ‘Twenty minutes okay?’
She agreed, and he selected a programme for mid-range difficulty. Settling into his normal pace was easy—resisting the temptation to watch Alina not so easy. She moved smoothly, gracefully.
‘I promise I won’t fall off.’ She’d caught him checking her out.
‘It’s been a while since anyone’s been here with me.’
Solitude in this special area had always been a plus. It was his private time, for releasing tension. Only occasionally had he invited anyone to join him. To his surprise, he didn’t mind Alina being there at all. In fact he felt downright glad to have her running alongside him. A feeling that unnerved him a little, causing him to switch back to getting-to-know-you mode.
‘What sort of keep-fit do you do on the move?’
‘Depends on the current job. Crop-picking, dog-walking or waitressing are usually enough. If it’s in an office I run, or do casual sessions at pools or gyms.’
‘Whoa—back up. Dog-walking?’
Her laugh, the first genuine one she’d given, zipped through him. Musical and light, it was a sound he wanted to hear again. Often.
‘It’s fun, challenging or downright exhausting, depending on the size or number of pooches. And always available in any city, any country.’
‘Ever lose any?’ The more he learned, the more fascinated he became.
‘NO. I HAD one Labrador who didn’t want to go back to his owner, but I didn’t blame him. The woman’s perfume was so overpowering it clogged my throat.’
She blushed and bent her head. So delightfully embarrassed he wanted to jump off and comfort her.
‘Hey, yours just didn’t suit you. On another woman it’d be different.’
‘Someone more flamboyant? More “out there”? It was a Christmas gift from a temporary boss, probably recycled. The box had been opened.’
‘Now you have the perfect fragrance for you—delicate, reminding me of sunshine and flowers. Ethereal...’ He chuckled. ‘Maybe not the last one. Though sometimes you do drift off into another world.’
Alina was grateful for the distinct ping announcing the end of her programme. She stepped off as the machine slowed down. Moved over to the weights.
For the next thirty minutes they rarely spoke, each concentrating on their own exercises. She’d have been completely relaxed if she’d been able to block out the male effortlessly lifting weights alongside her, built well enough to play A-league football.
He smiled whenever their eyes met in the huge wall mirror, disconcerting her. His T-shirt moulded to his sculpted chest and muscular upper arms. Her breath hitched every time his biceps firmed as he curled or lifted weights. She felt hot, sweaty, much more than she ever had while exercising before.
Deciding she’d done enough, she walked over to the pool. Discarding her tracksuit, she used the ladder, shivering as she descended into the cool water. Made a mental note to ask him to up the temperature. Taking a deep breath, she ducked under, sinking to the bottom, then shooting up. She grabbed the rail, shaking her head, refilling her lungs... Found herself staring at a pair of slender feet attached to tanned legs with a light covering of black hair.
She tilted her head for a slow scan past firm calves to the muscular thighs that had steered her round the dance floor last night...and a pair of black swimming trunks that left no doubt as to his manhood.
Her mouth dried; her pulse raced. Her body heat overrode the chill from the surrounding water. She didn’t dare meet his eyes, chose the coward’s path and swung into a freestyle stroke away from him. Quickened her pace at the sound of a splash behind her.
Ethan overtook her, touched and turned at the end. He was still below the surface as they passed again. She recovered her composure, slowed to her normal leisurely pace. This wasn’t a contest.
Six laps were enough for her.
She sat on the top of the ladder, wrapped in a towel, her feet dangling. She ought to leave. Shower and dress. Think about dinner—no, too early for that. She stayed. Not sure why, except that it was mesmerising, watching Ethan churn through the water, hardly making a ripple. The way he went through life: single-minded, controlled.
He swam like a machine—clean, even strokes, powering along the pool, flipping like a seal at the end. She timed his push-offs. Always constant. So precise. So coordinated.
She frowned. He’d dipped in front of her on his last turn, hadn’t resurfaced. Suddenly he burst upward from the water, making her jump. His chest skimmed her legs as he rose, catching hold of the rail for stability.
‘Waiting for me?’ He grinned, spraying her with tiny drops as he shook his head.
‘Hey!’
He levered himself higher so they were on eye level. ‘It’s only water. Anything special you’d like to do tomorrow? We’ll have all day.’
‘Oh. No work or commitments?’
‘None. I’m all yours. Stay home, and relax. Go for a drive. Walk on the beach. Your choice.’
How was she supposed to make an instant decision with him so close that there was a hint of his cologne in the chlorine-scented air? With his glistening muscled torso inches from her twitching fingers? With his appealing blue eyes offering her something she refused to name?
‘A ferry ride.’ Out of the blue. From somewhere in her past.
His eyebrows almost met his dripping hairline. ‘You want to go on a ferry?’
She nodded. ‘The Manly Ferry across the heads. I used to love it during the winter in rough weather.’
His smile shot into a scowl. ‘No way are you going out in a storm.’ Grated out. Possessive.
She laughed, recognising the over-protective tone. ‘They don’t cross in really rough weather. I don’t get seasick. And it’s spring.’
He
