FUENTES IS at the gym this morning. I’m surprised to see him. Even though I concocted this plan to convince him not to leave my agency, I haven’t been focusing on that problem. In fact, I haven’t been focusing on anyone except Harriet lately.
“Mr. Bradley?” Fuentes stops at the door where I’ve been perched since dawn.
“Fuentes.” The shock in my voice carries through the still, morning air.
I was up before daybreak and the sun is hurrying to catch up. Light streams through the gym, falling on punching bags and weight-lifting machines.
“What are you doing here?” Fuentes adjusts his duffel.
“I’m waiting for my wife.” My neck cranes as I look past him to the empty parking lot.
Fuentes turns and glances that way too. “Why are you meeting her here?”
“We have a date,” I murmur.
His lips soften. It’s not quite a smile, but it’s definitely more approval than disgust. “That’s nice, Bradley.”
I grunt out a response.
Cars fly past on the highway.
None of them turn into the parking lot.
I drag my gaze away from the street to focus on my second biggest headache. “How was your visit with your family?”
“Uneventful.” He swings his baseball cap to the front of his head, throwing more shadows on his dark eyes. “I talked to them about where I
should go from here. You know, in case certain things don’t work out.”
My heart jumps to my throat. “There’s no need for discussions like that.”
“Believe it or not, Mr. Bradley,” Fuentes steps past me and heads toward the punching bags, “I’m hoping so too.”
I open my mouth to call after him but, just then, I hear an engine purring. My head whips around like a child catching sight of Santa Clause.
Relief clashes with excitement. Harriet is here.
I was too ashamed to call her after the whole Ashley fiasco. What could I say? It’s not what it looks like? The truth is Ashley dropped by because she wanted to thank me for paying for her dad’s rehab. I did a good thing. But Harriet would chew my head off and throw me across the room if I told her that.
Why do you care so much? Because you want Harriet or because you want to keep Fuentes?
I brush the thought away. My motivations don’t matter anymore. Only the results.
That’s why I’ve come prepared.
Harriet glides out of her car, looking like grace in motion. My eyes slide down her body and find new things to appreciate with every second. She’s wearing a skin-tight exercise top with long sleeves. It stops right above her belly button, revealing dark brown skin and a smooth stomach. The equally tight exercise pants grab at parts of her that my hands long to caress.
Her beauty steals my breath. It’s strange that I couldn’t appreciate it when I was waking up to her every day. Now that we’re living apart, she gets more beautiful every time I see her.
While I drool over her, Harriet frowns at me. She slams her door shut and it’s not hard to imagine what she’s thinking. Especially when her eyes narrow to the size of slits.
I grab the protein shake I made this morning and offer it to her. “Hey.” My eyes drop over her again. I can’t help it. “You look amazing.”
Harriet’s lips tighten. “Your fifteen minutes starts now.”
The brush-off stings. My first impulse is to snap at her. Scold her. Can’t she see I’m trying here? Can’t she at least give me points for showing up and trying to appease her?
The annoyance tastes better than humility, but it’s not what Doc advised me to do.
How would you treat your wife if you were dating her?
Back when I was gunning after Harriet, I didn’t let something as simple as her attitude get between me and what I wanted. I drove for hours to see her. Got up early to pick her up. Hung around her every chance I could get.
She was my prize.
And I never lose what I’ve set my sights on.
Harriet starts warming up in the darkest corner of the gym. I’m not sure if she chose that spot because no one will see us or if this is her usual routine, but I won’t complain. At this point, I don’t care if Fuentes catches us talking or not. Calming my wife is more important.
I clear my throat when I get near. She doesn’t look up.
“Ahem.”
Harriet shoots me with laser eyes. “What do you want?”
“Your number.” I lean against the wall. Lift my chin in a ‘what you doing later’ pose.
Her eyebrows pull into a V and she scrunches her nose.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I ask, keeping my tone overtly flirtatious.
She finally gets it. Her lips tremble with amusement, but she doesn’t allow herself to laugh.
I guess I don’t deserve that yet.
To my surprise, Harriet rattles off her number.
I scramble for my phone. Dial it in. Smirk when my caller ID brings her up as an option.
Wife.
Mine.
Even my cell phone knows it.
“Don’t call me.” Harriet smirks and keeps on stretching.
I stuff my phone into my pocket, my eyes lingering on her pronounced shoulder blades. “I’ve got an update for you. It’s about the celebrity you wanted.”
“Really?” She drops all the attitude and steps toward me. I move in at the same time, miscalculating the distance. Our bodies collide.
Soft against hard.
Man against woman.
Her brown eyes fall into mine, tugging on my heart like she’s got exclusive access to all the strings. I can see the faint shimmer of gloss on her lips. The sheen of sweat on her forehead. The brush of her chest skitters against my T-shirt, driving me wild.
She smells like home. Like mornings when I rolled out of bed to find her dressed already, one leg propped up as she slathered herself in cocoa butter and lavender.
I resist the urge to wrap my arms around her and kiss that pretty mouth. Instead I step back.
She does too.
Hell, this is awkward. I’m married to this woman. She’s my woman. How did I mess things up so badly that I’m not allowed to even breathe her air?
She blinks expectantly at me. “When is he free?” “Who?” I ask.
“The celebrity.” Harriet’s voice is calmer than I expected.
I check my watch. “We’re out of time. Let’s discuss it over dinner.”
“Or you can just send me an email,” she says. I sense the hesitation in her words. The distance she’s putting between us. Heavy bricks forming a wall to keep me out.
I stretch past it because I’m stubborn like that. And walls never stopped me back when we were dating. “It’s just food, Harriet.”
“And this is just business, Jerrison. Don’t try to make it more than it is.” Another step back. She glares at me. “Besides, I’m busy.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I’m busy then too.”
Frustration makes me bite the inside of my cheek. It’s been a while since a woman’s told me no. It’s been a while since that rejection stung as much as this does.
“I’ll wait for your email,” Harriet says. And then she’s gone.
I kick at a nearby bench. Two failures in one morning is a bit much. Eager for confirmation that this is worth the hassle, I call Doc.
He answers gruffly. “How can I help you?”
“I think we need a plan B,” I murmur, shoving the gym door open and stalking to my car. After tossing my rejected protein shake in the cupholder, I climb behind the wheel. “This isn’t working, Doc.”
“What exactly isn’t working?” Doc asks impatiently.
I’m desperate and pretend not to hear how busy he sounds. “She’s getting colder and colder. It’s embarrassing to have her throwing my efforts back in my face. Can’t she see I’m trying here?”
“What would you do if you were dating her?” Doc says.
Hell, I’m so tired of that advice. Can’t he skip that record and jump to something else? Something that’ll actually work? “I know how to date a woman, but Harriet is playing hard to get.”
“If she’s playing hard to get, work harder.” “Doc-”
“That’s your assignment. Don’t come back to the workshop until you’ve figured it out.” He hangs up.
I toss my phone on the passenger seat and curse until I’m blue in the face