Page 11 of Ice Rebel

“Well, that just adds to your idea of the perfect man.”

“I said no such thing about him being a spanker. Or whatever you call a man who uses punishment as some sexy tool.”

She walked closer. “You know what’s terrible about your description of the perfect hot guy?”

“What?” I had a feeling her answer would be very much like Samantha. Wild and crazy.

“My brothers, especially the single one.” She dared wink at me as if providing me with details of a sexy little secret.

“What about your brothers?”

“I hate to say it, but they’re the perfect hunky candidates. Don’t you dare tell them I said that.”

Not a problem, since I didn’t even know she had any brothers. Number one rule in my idea of the perfect man? Stay away from a bestie’s brother at all costs.

No matter how hot and sexy he was.

CHAPTER 3

Chelsea

At least suffering in the gym day after day during college had provided me with a better understanding of how a fitness center operated.

The plus side was that I had a location to dance away from the studio located behind the community theater, which was locked half the time. By being a gym employee, I could lose myself in my music and just dance, the perfect form of exercise. I’d get off shift or even early in the morning before and enjoy an hour or so alone.

Well used leotards.

Wild music depending on my mood.

Mirrors so I could critique the hell out of my performance, which I always did.

I laughed as I passed by the dance studios heading to my office. I’d even thought about applying to teach a few classes. Maybe if I could build my confidence.

When I was a young, impressionable child, my mother had insisted I feed my body as well as my mind, which was why I’d started taking ballet and tap classes at five or six. There were also piano lessons, and drama club when I’d gotten older. Let alone the academic classes I was required to ace. I’d known her methodology. She was the kind of woman who expected perfection, not unlike the pressure my father placed on my brother.

There were certain protocols required by girls in the upper echelon of society.

Become the perfect bride to be to attract the correct influential man. She’d nabbed a rich guy and both my parents expected no less. The only problem was I wasn’t perfectly perfect and had no interest in getting married. Ever.

She’d given up her career as a singer to be with my father. In my mind, she was living vicariously through me and my career, likely a huge disappointment at this point. However, wouldn’t she be proud I exercised my vocal muscles the night before? Who knew. Maybe I helped draw in a future husband so I wouldn’t need to work by the time I was twenty-three. Then I could mirror her life. Charity events and luncheons. I laughed at the thought.

My conversation with Samantha rolled into my mind along with the very naughty story. I’d had a little fire burning in my belly overnight. And in my pussy, the wicked words sparking a fantasy, and the face on the hunk lurking in my delicious dreams?

The mystery man with dimples.

However, that’s where he’d stay, a solid fantasy in my mind that I could pull out, much like my vibrator whenever I needed a little sexy fix.

Another solid point in learning to love my body by enjoying going to the gym was how doing so had provided stamina for the long hours spent dealing with gym rats. Now I was just being a brat. I called tour guests the silly name because the clients of Champion Fitness all believed themselves to be winners. Most drove up in their fancy Mercedes or souped-up sports cars, SUVs that cost more than two full years of college tuition, or in some cases, they had drivers who waited for them patiently outside.

Never allowed to come inside whether it was raining, snowing, or the wind was blowing in excess of sixty miles per hour.

The women wore perfectly matched spandex, the men sporting their Breitling Chronomat 18k watches. All while trying to break a sweat.

Yes, I was stereotyping a teensy tiny bit and certainly not everyone had been born with silver spoons in their mouths. However, a solid fifty percent of the clients were exactly as described.

But they paid their membership fees like everyone else and expected full scale concierge service. That’s where I came in.

Not because I was low man on the totem pole, but because somehow, I’d managed to land an assistant manager position. I’d merely applied to work the front desk, but the owner had noticed a spark in me that deserved to be nurtured. The position did entail more money, but also more hours and being up close and personal with the clients.