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Carly was tempted to go without her wig or eyelashes. That would scare him off, for sure. It would be so much easier for him to reject her now, before she fell any harder for him. But her interfering roommate had also made her promise not to shock Liam into retreat.
How did she trick me into making all those promises?
Despite her general cavalier attitude about her alopecia, Carly knew her hairless appearance would be a hard pill for any guy to swallow. In general, she didn’t care if people knew; she didn’t care what they thought. But in the relationship department, she was way more insecure than she pretended to be.
After her father had withdrawn, Carly had craved love. But she’d yearned for a genuine caring relationship, which wasn’t what she got from the guys she’d dated.
Ha! Big surprise.
And now—since losing her hair to the worst type of alopecia, the kind that made you lose all instead of part of your hair and rarely responded to any treatment—she’d finally accepted the truth. That sort of love only happened in books and movies. Maybe there were a few cases in real life, but not in hers.
At any rate, she had to put on a brave face and get through her activities, a feat more challenging with the anniversary of Ben’s death looming the next day.
With practiced speed, she pulled her wig into place, the straps already adjusted for a perfect fit, silicone strips against her scalp holding it securely in place. But just to be safe, she slipped on a wide headband, which would also keep the hair out of her face while she was working out.
Fortunately, her eyebrows were tattooed, so she didn’t have to draw them on each day. Eyelashes were another matter. Those had to be glued in place each morning, but it only took her about two minutes per eye, including the time required to paint on the eyeliner that hid the lash band.
A tentative knock came from the door. Having slept in her yoga pants and T-shirt, Carly hurried to the door, her anticipation growing.
“Please tell me that’s what I think it is.” She eyed the thermal cup in Liam’s right hand.
“Coffee, for Your Highness, as ordered.”
“I’m glad you recognize my exalted status.” She held it under her nose and breathed in, savoring the aroma. With her first sip of the scalding liquid, she began to feel slightly more human.
“I am but your humble servant.” Liam bowed and flashed her a mocking smile, complete with those adorable dimples of his.
For the first time, she noticed his attire. His short-sleeved T-shirt clung to his broad chest and left his bulging biceps exposed. She swallowed the excess saliva flowing in her mouth.
Maybe this workout won’t be as bad as I thought.
* * *
In her wildest dreams,Carly couldn’t have imagined a home gym as well equipped as Bran’s. She climbed onto an elliptical machine, positioned facing the weight machines and free weights. She was being force-fed an eyeful of rippling muscles from both men as they exercised their upper bodies, but she wasn’t complaining.
But looking at Liam’s trim physique and broad shoulders? Let’s just say the warm, floating feeling in her chest kicked up a notch or two.
When Branson shifted to leg exercises, Liam moved himself to a recumbent bike, opened a black case, and began to strap electrodes onto his thighs.
“What’s that?” Carly asked, before it occurred to her that the question might be rude.
Fortunately, Liam didn’t seem offended. Instead, he flashed a smile, showing off his even white teeth. “This is one of AEP’s newest developments. It’s a prototype of a portable functional electric stimulator. This thing makes my leg muscles contract, increasing strength and decreasing atrophy. If we can get the cost down, this could make electric stimulation exercise affordable for millions of people.”
“Millions of people?”
His expression went grim. “Believe it or not, there are over five million people in the United States who suffer from some form of paralysis. The majority don’t have access to the kind of equipment they need to improve their health. They certainly can’t afford sixteen to thirty K for an FES bike.”
That’s it! I’ll never feel sorry for myself again just because I lost my hair!
With a heap of guilt from observing both guys working harder than she was, Carly moved to a rowing machine, and Bran got on a treadmill beside her. She took a moment to admire his form. He was in impeccable physical shape—not an ounce of fat on his body—though she preferred Liam’s considerably broader shoulders.
“Do you have everything you need?” Bran asked as he increased the speed to a brisk run.
“I can’t imagine what else you could provide for me,” Carly said, slightly breathless from exertion. “Unless you have a spare set of in-shape lungs lying around.”
“I’m afraid all my lungs are currently spoken for.” He grinned, his rapid stride appearing almost effortless. “I wanted to ask you about your research.”
“Okay...” She glanced across the room where Liam was still strapping his legs onto the exercise bike. Hopefully, they were out of earshot. “What did you want to know?”
