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“All right. May I speak to the concierge, please?”
“That’s me today. We’re short-staffed. I usually work in the back. Today, I’m everything.”
Except helpful. “What does the hotel have in terms of facilities?”
Blank look.
“Where in the hotel could we wait?” Chris said. “Is there a coffee shop? Lounge?”
Blank.
He shook his head. He could argue this wasn’t the four-star hotel he requested, but it was very fancy. Just also very small and, apparently, short-staffed. Looked like they were going for a walk—with their luggage, since he didn’t trust Millie to hold it. Then Daphne tapped his shoulder and pointed at a sign.
Gym.
“You bring anything?” she asked.
He actually had packed workout clothing, thinking he’d need something to do while Daphne worked… in all their copious downtime. When he nodded, she said, “I have sweatpants and a T-shirt.” She leaned in and whispered, “At worst, we can sit on the weight bench and wait until four. Does that work?”
It did.
DAPHNE
The gym was tiny, and also empty. Empty was good, as far as gyms went. She’d given up going to public ones when she built her house, instead using one of her spare rooms as a combination library and home gym.
There had to be good gyms where a self-conscious woman could exercise in comfort, but she’d never found one. She always felt the eyes critically assessing her physique. She’d also suffered through the endless string of guys wanting to “help.” Sometimes that just meant telling her she was doing it wrong, because her lack of a Y chromosome made that inevitable. Other times, it was an excuse for them to demonstrate proper form and show off. And then there were the guys who wanted to help her achieve that proper form with hands-on assistance.
Okay, now breathe like this. Feel my hand on your sternum? Whoops, that’s not your sternum, he-he.
She was long past the beginner stage, but somehow, the offers never stopped.
“Think we can lock the door?” he said as he wheeled in their luggage.
She smiled, mostly because she’d been thinking the same thing. “I don’t think we need to worry. There’s dust on everything except the treadmill.”
“Ah, yes, the ubiquitous hotel treadmill. But there’s supposed to be a window in front of it, overlooking the pool or lobby. What’s the point of working out on vacation if everyone can’t see you’re working out on vacation?”
She laughed. “So are we working out? I’d like to, if that’s okay. I could use the stress relief.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Let’s get changed then.”
Daphne walked over to the changing room and opened the door. It was a single-size booth.
Huh, only one changing room. We can share, right? I’ll just change over here, in front of the mirror, which I absolutely will not use to watch you at all. Because that would be wrong. Wouldn’t it? I mean, your call.
Oh, he would be okay with it. He’d made that clear. But he’d also set his terms, and she had to respect that. No more sexy flirting. No more hopes of a hot fling.
So where did that leave her?
Terrified, that was where it left her.
“You can go first,” she said.
He shook his head and waved. “After you.”
And then she was in the tiny dressing room, all alone, with the door shut as she pawed through her bag looking for the sweats and T-shirt she’d brought for writing, because clearly on tour there would be lots of downtime, where Chris would want to work or go to the gym, and she’d curl up in her sweats and write.
She pulled out the pants and tee and winced. They were built for comfort, not style, and certainly not sex appeal.
