Page 57 of Trap ’N’ Trace

She snapped her eyes open. What am I doing? Daydreaming about what happened was self-destructive and would only get them both into trouble again. Damn him for comforting her and holding her while she cried her eyes out. Damn me for reaching for him.

“I’m an idiot,” she whispered.

Last night, when she’d gone downstairs, she’d lit into him. Now she felt horrible. The blame was more hers than it was his. She’d wanted something and taken it. Tried to, anyway. Acting recklessly was so outside the box for her. Everything about Dayne was outside her neat, always-tidy box. He’d done something to her that could never be undone.

He’d made her want him.

Despite their extreme differences, she’d genuinely begun to like him, and that only made it worse. Not only was she ridiculously attracted to him, now she had feelings for him. Strong feelings.

Last night, he’d been a perfect gentleman to people who didn’t deserve it. He’d done it for her. Because they were her friends. In the span of five days, he’d done more for her and exhibited more kindness to her than most people had. Then again, maybe it was only out of a sense of duty.

She flung back the covers and threw on a pair of black nylon sweatpants and racerback bra. After tying her hair in a high, tight ponytail, she tiptoed down the stairs, hoping to miss Dayne. Despite their nice little chat in the library last night, the awkwardness between them was still thick enough to cut with a knife.

Neither of the dogs or Dayne was in sight as she slunk through the kitchen and down the basement stairs. A quick stretch later and she was kicking and punching the living daylights out of the heavy bag hanging by a chain from the ceiling.

Jab-squat. Squat-kick. Of all the equipment in her gym, this was by far the most used piece. The bag’s leather cover was worn down in places from all the workouts she and Emily had given it over the years. Not having worked out for the past week made a difference. Sweat trickled down her temples. Her muscles ached, and her breaths came hard and fast.

Jab-cross-jab. Again, again, again. Her hair was soaked. Her bra stuck to her body. Keep moving. Don’t stop.

Forty minutes later, her chest heaved and she leaned over, resting her forearms on her thighs. Even her knuckle guards dripped with sweat.

“No wonder you broke his nose.”

Kat jerked her head up. If she hadn’t already been sucking in air, she would have gasped at the shock of finding Dayne watching her. With all her heavy breathing, she hadn’t heard him come down the stairs. Knowing he could have been there for several minutes made her self-conscious. The man was in such amazing shape.

His jeans weren’t tight, but they showcased every muscle in his butt, thighs, and calves. The black Henley tucked into his belt molded itself to his pecs, shoulders, and biceps. Shirts like that should be outlawed.

“How long have you been standing there?” she managed when her heart rate slowed.

“Long enough.”

She could swear his lips twitched. “Long enough for what?”

“Long enough to admire your incredible…equipment.” For a moment he stared at her, and she couldn’t be sure if he was referring to the gym equipment or her. He turned to look first at the free weights, then the barbells, dumbbells, treadmill, cross-trainer, and bevy of other workout machinery. “Would you mind if I used your gym while I’m staying here?”

“Of course not.” She ripped off her knuckle guards and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, twisting the cap off and sucking down a long draught.

“Thanks.”

When he didn’t go back upstairs, she narrowed her eyes. He’d come down here for a reason, and it hadn’t been to check out her equipment.

“I need to go somewhere this afternoon.” Something in his tone set off alarm bells in her head.

“Okay.” She wiped her brow. “I’ll be fine here without you.”

“You’re coming with me.”

Today was Sunday so… “Are you going to church?”

He scratched his freshly shaven and extremely sculpted jaw. “It’s my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary. I have to go and I’m not leaving you here.”

“Oh no.” She shook her head gently at first then with more emphasis. “I’m not going.” After last night, what she needed was more personal space from him. Not less. Attending his parents’ party was straying way too far into the personal zone.

“Yes. You are.” That sculpted jaw hardened, and he crossed his arms in a way that tightened the black Henley snugger across those incredible biceps. “It’s not open to negotiation.”

“Fine,” she flung back, realizing he had more control over her life at the moment than she did. She could practically read his mind: suck it up, princess. “What time?”

“Three o’clock.” He turned to leave when his cell phone rang, and he unclipped it from his belt. “Andrews.” He straightened from where he’d been leaning casually against the wall. “What’s the address?” He ended the call. “We need to leave an hour earlier.”