I wish his forearm muscles would stop twitching so suggestively each time he catches it. It’s hella distracting.
“Those who wanna get straight into the regular fitness regimen can stay here,” he says. “But we’ve also arranged for a bungee-jumping session. I know it’ll scare some of you. And that’s fine. But for anybody feeling a little adventurous, well, I reckon it’s time to seize the day.”
He stops, placing the tennis ball on the reception desk. Everybody mutters all around me, some of them gung-ho and ready to go, but most people saying they’d prefer to just get on with the regular plan. I feel fear seize my chest tightly at the prospect of bungee-jumping …
But then I spot Harry smirking at me, as if to say,Too much for you, eh, Grace?
My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I push to the front of the crowd, not giving myself a chance to think about what I’m doing.
There’s something just so Harry-like in his self-satisfied expression. It makes me want to rub it away … maybe with a kiss.
I stamp down on that instinct. No way. No kissing.
This is about work.
“I’ll do it,” I say, all smiles.
He grins, shamelessly letting his eyes move up and down my body. Goose pimples prick my skin as though he’s touching me, not just looking at me. I can feel the gazes of some of the other women, too. I even hear one whisper just loud enough for me to hear, “Who does this prissy bitch think she is?”
Jeez, these women really are falling all over themselves to get the attention of the ripped-as-Satan soccer star.
He steps forward, his chest rising and falling so that the fabric of his T-shirt clings tightly to his bulging pectoral muscles. His smirk morphs, becomes a genuine smile, and I’m forced to wonder if I imagined that glint of old douchebag Harry in his supercilious face.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he growls.
***
Okay, what the heck have I gotten myself into?
A group of twenty of us stand in the shadow of the three-hundred-foot contraption that looks something like a crane. We’re on the outskirts of the city, with skyscrapers making a jagged pattern on the skyline. A light wind brushes me and I try to get involved with the banter of my fellow adventurers, but a solid cord of anxiety runs through my chest.
“We have every safety certificate out there,” the instructor says. He’s a red-haired man with a British accent, making me wonder if everybody in the signature green of Harry Hadley Fitness and Adventures is a fricking Englishman. “But if any of you are still too nervous after our safety briefing, there’s no shame in backing out.”
I flinch when Harry appears beside me, moving with that jaguar-like fluidity that was so characteristic of him on the soccer field. His bicep brushes up against my shoulder as he looks down at me, all six foot two of him primed and ready.
“Hear that, Grace?” he says, a slight mocking note in his James Bond voice. “No shame.”
“What, you think I’m scared?” I sass, turning to him as the instructor leads people toward the huge metal tower. Sunlight sparkles all up and down it.
“Hmm, well Idoremember you mentioning you were afraid of heights back in the day.”
No. Fricking. Way.
Is it possible he arranged this just to mess with my head?
I fold my arms, which just causes his eyes to flit to the way my breasts bulge. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sorta like that, but I drop them quickly anyway.
You know, on principle.
I’m here for adventure … and that definitely doesn’t involve becoming an object of lust for the man who shattered my heart when I was at my most vulnerable.
“Oh, I get it,” I tease. “You think I’m gonna back out. But let me tell you something, playboy. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“I can see that,” he rumbles with a wicked grin. “But I believe in you. Challenge yourself. You can do it.”
For a moment, I wonder why that phrasing sounds so familiar. But then it hits me.
My horoscope.
