Читать книгу In Love With Her Boss - Christie Ridgway - Страница 11

At one end of the weight room, Josh leaned against a Nautilus machine and pretended he was merely resting between sets instead of what he was really doing—resting between sets while watching Lori work out. It was a kickboxing class today, in the adjacent aerobics area. The class was unusually small, probably because it was New Year’s Eve and most people had headed home early this Saturday afternoon to prepare for their evening celebrations.

But Billy Blanks and his Tae-Bo enthusiasts would be proud. Even without the communal energy of a full class, Lori’s sidekicks punched outward with determined force.

Her jaw looked clenched in concentration. The tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail hung in damp question marks against her cheeks. In a baggy pair of sweatpants cut off at the knees and an oversized T-shirt, she should have looked tough. Competent.

She did. But why she worked so hard on that strength clawed at him.

Her terrified reaction when he’d stopped her from falling a few mornings ago, added to her self-defense attack when he’d bumped into her on the running track the first day they’d met could equal only one thing. A man had hurt her. Not just emotionally, but physically too.

The certainty made him sick. And relieved, though that sounded more warped than it should. He wasn’t happy about whatever experiences she’d endured, of course, but he was glad to finally understand her skittishness. He was damn glad to know so that he could quit adding to her disquiet with his attempts at flirtation.

None of this changed her appeal for him, though. God, no. Now she was more than beautiful. In every bead of sweat, in every kick, in every lap, he read Lori’s determination never to be a victim again. He admired that.

But overlying his regard for her tenacious guts and her uncommon gorgeousness was something that sent him running. Tenderness. Protectiveness.

He didn’t want to feel that way.

So he reminded himself that she needed healing, not him. She wasn’t in the market for a fling any more than he was. Neither one of them was in any emotional place to want anything more.

As Josh watched, Lori changed direction, back-kicking for all she was worth. If only he could kick off his raging guard-dog complex as easily. Such an ability would come in handy right this minute, Josh thought, as he spied Wily Rick Weber sauntering through the weight room, his gaze glued on Lori.

Josh suppressed a feral growl, instead smiling at the other man as he intercepted Rick’s straight path toward the aerobics room. “Hey there, Rick.”

It took Wily a moment to switch his focus to Josh. “Anderson,” he said absently, already moving forward to brush by him. Then Wily paused, the expression on his face reflecting his crafty nickname. “Wait a minute,” he said softly. “She works for you, doesn’t she?”

Josh folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the smaller man. “Who?”

Wily’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, right. As if you don’t know who I mean. Her name’s Lori, correct?”

No one ever said Wily was dumb, just trouble. “Mmm,” Josh answered, shrugging.

Wily’s eyes squeezed to suspicious slits. “Don’t try scaring me off, Josh. There’s no reason I shouldn’t ask her out. It’s not like you have a claim.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” The hair on the back of Josh’s neck bristled.

Wily gave him a smarmy guy-to-guy smile. “Word is you’re more monk than man, Anderson. Can’t see you trying to melt the ice queen over there as your first foray into romance after all these years.” His smile widened. “Leave the hard ones to me, big guy.”

Smarmy, wily, stinkin’ Rick Weber had just insulted him. Lifted Josh’s ego and dumped it on its head. He was so pissed, he just stared at the jerk.

Which apparently gave Rick the idea that he was letting him get away with it, because Rick smiled again. “I’ve suddenly found myself dateless for the New Year’s party at the country club tonight. Watch this. Give me five minutes and I’ll make her say ‘yes.”’ He swaggered forward.

Until Josh grabbed his arm and hauled him back. “No,” he said.

Wily frowned. “No?”

“No.” Josh would have let his ego take the beating, but he couldn’t let Rick Give-me-five-minutes Weber try to make Lori do anything. “She’s busy tonight.” Hadn’t Lori asked him herself to put out the word around the gym that she was off-limits?

Rick’s eyebrows rose. “Maybe I’ll make certain of that myself. Maybe I’ll just show up at her place tonight and hope she invites me in for…something.”

Josh squeezed Rick’s arm, the idea of him on Lori’s doorstep tightening a sudden knot in his belly. “She’s already going out with me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rick asked. “Where?”

“The country club.” Josh didn’t have time to come up with something else. He had been going to the country club celebration. Stag.

“Hmm.” Rick’s face turned down in a considering frown. Finally, he shrugged. “I’ll see you there, then.” Shaking off Josh’s hand, he sauntered in the other direction, toward the men’s locker room, leaving Josh to face Lori, who didn’t know she’d just gotten herself a New Year’s Eve date.

Her class over, Lori walked out of the aerobics room, blotting her face with the end of the towel hanging around her neck. When she saw him, she halted, a shy smile on her face. “Josh.”

Oh, he felt like a heel. In the past few days, since figuring out what made her afraid, he’d been so damn careful with her. He’d given her space. He’d made sure he never showed how he gulped back his lust when she walked into his office, her peachy scent preceding her. Her ease with him had grown by leaps and bounds and now, damn it, the leaps were going to be backward ones.

“Lori, good to see you.” He cleared his throat, keenly aware that asking her out was going to put her guard back up. “Do you, uh, do you have any New Year’s Eve plans?”

A shadow darkened her jewel-blue eyes. “No.”

“I was hoping…I was wondering…I’m going to the Whitehorn Country Club tonight for a dinner dance.” His feet, his hands, his Adam’s apple felt as if they were growing like Pinocchio’s nose. Damn, she made him that edgy, even when he was asking her out for her own good.

She frowned and took a small step back. “Josh, I—”

“The Norths are going to be there,” he said hastily, thinking of Rick’s smarmy smile and his notion to show up on Lori’s doorstep. “Melissa and Wyatt. Some other people I think you’ll like, too.”

“Melissa?” Lori swallowed. “The Norths?”

Josh nodded, pleased that mentioning the other couple seemed to pique her interest. He knew she’d established an instant rapport with Melissa when they’d met. “We’ve planned to sit together.”

“I’d…”

Josh marshalled his thoughts, trying to come up with some additional enticements.

“…like that.”

“You would?” He stared at her, trying to squelch the heated rush of satisfaction pulsing through him. This wasn’t a date, he reminded himself. This was a rescue. That’s all.

* * *

Not a date, a rescue. He was still trying to tell himself that as he escorted Lori into the Whitehorn Country Club a few hours later. If it were a date, he would have allowed himself to comment on the beauty of her shoulders, their delicate strength revealed by the off-the-shoulder black velvet of her dress. If it were a date, he would have told her he liked the sophisticated twist of her hair on the back of her head. If it were a date, he would have touched her elbow, the small of her back, as he led her toward their table.

And if it were a date, he wouldn’t be in such a damn lousy mood because he’d have been able to do all those things…and more. Instead, he was her self-appointed, self-sacrificing watchdog, destined to spend the evening looking, smelling, but not touching. Never touching. Grrr.

Lucky for him, the other couples at their round, ten-person table were in much better moods than he. Melissa instantly caught Josh’s unspoken signal and insisted Lori sit on her right. Josh tipped the chair beside Lori’s against the tabletop to indicate it was taken, then headed to the bar. He took a big swallow of his whiskey on his way back and set Lori’s chardonnay in front of her before dropping into his seat.