Heartwishes by Jude Deveraux

learned to keep covered up. And she’d also learned to work out with them in the way that they did, which meant with weights.
    Gemma unzipped her cotton jacket and removed it, revealing a pink cotton shirt under it. She unbuttoned it and took it off. Underneath she was wearing a fuchsia tank top that showed the lacy edges of her matching bra.
    One thing about working out with men was that they loved upper body work. Deltoids and biceps seemed to be their main concern. Three years ago, when Gemma came up with the idea of teaching while exercising, she could barely lift a pair of two-pounddumbbells over her head. Now she worked with an Olympic bar, which was forty-five pounds.
    When Gemma stood in front of Tom with a lot of skin showing, she knew her arms showed her workouts. Between boxing and thousands of reps for delts, her arms were firm and well shaped.
    “Good girl,” Tom said, smiling at her.
    Behind them, his skinny young deputy—his name tag read CARL —was grinning. “You think you can climb up ol’ Colin in those pants? Maybe you should take them off too.”
    Tom glanced at his deputy in reprimand, then turned to Colin, who was still looking up at the boy. “Colin! This young lady—” He looked at her.
    “Gemma.”
    “Gemma is going to do a Shamus and get the boy down.”
    “He’s too heavy. She can’t—” Colin began, but then he looked at her and his eyes widened. Gemma’s body was fabulous! She was curvy and taut with muscle. Her large breasts were above a waist his hands could span. Words failed him. “Yeah, okay,” he at last managed to say.
    “Thought maybe you’d agree,” Tom said.
    When Gemma was standing in front of him, Colin looked at her in appreciation. “Those students of yours taught you a thing or two about working out, didn’t they?”
    Maybe it was because she didn’t have on her usual layers of covering, or maybe it was the way Colin was looking at her, or maybe it was because she’d been without a boyfriend for months, but a strong feeling of desire ran through her. For Colin. For a man who was taken. Owned by a dragon.
    “Hey, Colin,” Carl said, “Jean know about you two?”
    Colin gave the deputy a look to shut up, then he put his sheriff face back on and looked up at the boy. “If I lift Miss Gemma onto my shoulders, will you go to her?”
    The boy looked down at Gemma in her skimpy top, her breasts well exposed, and almost smiled. “Yeah. She’s pretty.”
    Colin looked back at her. “The kid’s going to grow up to be another Lanny. Can you lift him?”
    “I think so,” Gemma said, but her heart was beating in her throat. When the tree branch cracked again and the mother put her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming, all Gemma could think was, What if I drop the child?
    “Okay,” Colin said, and his voice was that of a coach: calm, quiet, and reassuring. “I want you to step on my leg, and I’ll help you onto my shoulders. I’ll hold your ankles and balance you. When you’re stable, reach out to him. Let him come to you, don’t pull. Once you have him, hold on to him and I’ll do the rest. Understand?”
    “Yes,” she said.
    Unnoticed by anyone, Carl turned the video recorder on his cell on and stepped back to get a full view of the action.
    Bending a bit, Colin extended his right leg so she could step onto his thigh. He held out his hands to help her. When she hesitated and he saw fear in her eyes, he knew he needed to give her courage. He didn’t know her very well, but he’d seen that she had a competitive spirit. He said, “Come on, Ranford, those high school girls climb all over my baby brother. You gonna let those kids beat you?”
    His tone—so like the trainers she’d worked with—took away most of her fear. She slipped out of her shoes, took his hands, and stepped up on his bent leg.
    When she was steady, he put his hands on her legs and looked up at her. “I’m going to lift you up, and I want you to get onto my shoulders.