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The view from this angle was just as stunning as from behind. Her ponytail swayed and her luscious tits bounced in a hypnotic rhythm—another mental picture I filed away for shower time. Even the sweat appearing on her neck was sexy. “Why is it you can’t accept a compliment?” I asked between breaths.
“I hate you, remember?”
That seemed to be her answer for everything. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Shut up. This is supposed to be a quiet sport.”
As our feet ate up the distance without words between us, my mind drifted. It was a damned shame that she hadn’t gone to my bedroom last night on purpose. Seeing her sweating and panting now made me wonder what it would be like to have her underneath me, sweaty and panting from an entirely different sport.
CHAPTER21
Alexa
Evan may have stopped talkingafter the first bit of our run, but I noticed him all the same. The man was impossible to ignore. More than once I caught him watching my chest. With my boobs, bouncing was an unavoidable consequence of running at any speed.
But I was guilty of the same as I pretended to be checking out turns in the path or couples we passed while eying him. He was so ripped that his pecs bounced as he ran. Was it weird of me to find that sexy?
He didn’t have a runner’s lean build, but rather the muscled physique of an athlete, maybe a football player, with arms that looked like he could lift a car if he wanted to.
“Right turn up here,” he finally said. “My place is just ahead.”
Calling his sublime home in the clouds aplacewas blasphemy. A penthouse on Central Park West deserved better than that. But, as I’d done our entire run, I kept my mouth shut.
The path we took met the street a half block from his building.
“About the play,” he started as we waited for the light. “We could go tonight if you want.”
I pointed to my cheek. “Not looking like this.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
I stepped into the crosswalk when the light turned. “Thank you for the offer, though. Maybe in a week or two.”See? I can be nice.
As I reached the other side, the man jumped out in front of me, clicking away on his camera. “Allie, when did McAllister beat you up?”
Evan positioned himself between me and the jackal with the camera. “Keep walking.”
“Allie, how long has he been hitting you?” Camera Jackal asked.
We sped up, but didn’t run.
Camera Jackal ran backwards in front of us, continuing to snap pictures until Evan’s doorman blocked him. Finally we made it to the sanctuary of the building’s lobby.
“You can let go now.” I rubbed my arm after Evan released me. “How do you live with that?”
“Normally they’re not like that. Since they get most of their shots late at night, you never see them this early in the morning.” Evan’s voice turned soft, concerned even. “We’d better prepare for some ugly coverage after this.” He scuffed his shoe on the marble floor. “I’ll get my PR people on it first thing Monday.”
Evan’s words slowly sunk in. The photographer thought Evan had beaten me up, and if they ran the story with that slant, it could ruin everything for him. I’d be painted as the victim, but he’d be branded the abuser, and in today’s media climate that wasn’t a label that melted away. It would be a permanent brand on him.
I could read the dejection in his eyes. He’d come to the same conclusion. Suddenly I grabbed his wrist. “Come with me. I’ve got this. Just don’t screw it up.”
“Screw what up?”
Through the glass it was clear that our personal paparazzo still lurked outside, grinning as he checked the pictures on the back of his camera. What a jerk.
I pushed through the door, dragging Evan with me. Our surprised doorman promptly held it wide for us. The object of my ire looked up from his camera.
I let go of Evan and walked straight toward him, pointing at my cheek. “You want to know how I got this? You want to know about Evan?”
