‘Get out. Get the hell out of here!’
Her hand fell to her side, her chest feeling tight and restricted. ‘I’m sorry … I thought you wanted lunch at one …’
He gave her a cutting look. ‘I’m not hungry. Now leave.’
She swallowed convulsively as she took in the equipment surrounding him. Weight machines and bench presses, a treadmill that she suspected he hadn’t used in a while. All of it a reminder of what he had once been and might never be again. She had secretly admired the sculptured perfection of his muscles all those years ago. She had secretly admired him and compared him to the other men in her life: Craig, who was handsome but lacked definition, her father, who after years of excessive drinking and lack of exercise had become a bloated effigy of the striking-looking man he had once been. Alessandro had surpassed them easily; he always had. His touch had lingered like a memory in her flesh, catching her off guard, taking her by surprise, alerting her to the chemistry that simmered underneath the history of their tricky relationship.
‘I told you to get out, Rachel,’ he said, his mouth still flat and tight.
‘That looks like hard work,’ she said, refusing to be daunted, even though her legs were feeling as trembling and unsteady as his seemed to be.
His eyes darkened to midnight blue. ‘It is and I would rather not have an audience.’
She moved across to where a pulley with weights attached was hanging from a machine. ‘What’s this for?’ she asked, touching it experimentally.
She heard him draw in a harsh breath behind her. ‘It’s to maintain my upper body strength,’ he said.
She moved to the leg press machine, running a finger over the smooth shiny metal. ‘And this?’ she asked.
She heard him swear in Italian, a short sharp expletive that for some reason sent a trickling feeling to the base of her spine. Her mind exploded with erotic images of him making love to her, his body strong and in control, pumping, thrusting, filling her with his male presence, stretching her, taking her to the heights of human pleasure. Her face coloured as she realised where her thoughts were taking her.
‘I’ve never seen anyone get hot and sweaty before from just looking at gym equipment,’ Alessandro said drily.
Rachel turned away to inspect the hand weights, desperately hoping her colour would subside. She picked up the lightest pair of weights and did a couple of bicep curls. ‘I’ve never really got into the gym thing,’ she said. ‘I have friends who do several sessions a week. They get antsy if they don’t go. It’s like an addiction.’
‘There are worse things to be addicted to.’
She put the weights down and turned and looked at him again. ‘Yes, I suppose so …’
He was studying her, the hard angry look replaced now with a guarded one. ‘So what do you do to keep so trim and slim?’ he asked. ‘Hot and sweaty sessions with your latest lover?’
Rachel felt her face flame again. ‘I told you I’ve been toobusy working on my label. I haven’t dated in a while. Actually, not since I broke off my engagement.’
His eyes registered her statement with a tiny flicker of surprise but then he covered it quickly. His voice when he spoke was cynical. ‘I somehow can’t picture you as a born-again virgin, Rachel. You were always starving for male attention. It didn’t matter who they were as long as you could get their notice. I fell for it and I can imagine many have done so since, more fool them.’
‘You’re never going to let it go, are you?’ she said.
His expression remained coolly calm, detached. ‘I suppose you are referring to my rather clumsy marriage proposal.’
Rachel’s heart was thudding as if she had just done a triple circuit of the equipment in the room with a half marathon thrown in as well. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to … to—’
‘To what?’ He cut her off almost savagely, his eyes blazing again. ‘To admit I loved you?’
She
Her hand fell to her side, her chest feeling tight and restricted. ‘I’m sorry … I thought you wanted lunch at one …’
He gave her a cutting look. ‘I’m not hungry. Now leave.’
She swallowed convulsively as she took in the equipment surrounding him. Weight machines and bench presses, a treadmill that she suspected he hadn’t used in a while. All of it a reminder of what he had once been and might never be again. She had secretly admired the sculptured perfection of his muscles all those years ago. She had secretly admired him and compared him to the other men in her life: Craig, who was handsome but lacked definition, her father, who after years of excessive drinking and lack of exercise had become a bloated effigy of the striking-looking man he had once been. Alessandro had surpassed them easily; he always had. His touch had lingered like a memory in her flesh, catching her off guard, taking her by surprise, alerting her to the chemistry that simmered underneath the history of their tricky relationship.
‘I told you to get out, Rachel,’ he said, his mouth still flat and tight.
‘That looks like hard work,’ she said, refusing to be daunted, even though her legs were feeling as trembling and unsteady as his seemed to be.
His eyes darkened to midnight blue. ‘It is and I would rather not have an audience.’
She moved across to where a pulley with weights attached was hanging from a machine. ‘What’s this for?’ she asked, touching it experimentally.
She heard him draw in a harsh breath behind her. ‘It’s to maintain my upper body strength,’ he said.
She moved to the leg press machine, running a finger over the smooth shiny metal. ‘And this?’ she asked.
She heard him swear in Italian, a short sharp expletive that for some reason sent a trickling feeling to the base of her spine. Her mind exploded with erotic images of him making love to her, his body strong and in control, pumping, thrusting, filling her with his male presence, stretching her, taking her to the heights of human pleasure. Her face coloured as she realised where her thoughts were taking her.
‘I’ve never seen anyone get hot and sweaty before from just looking at gym equipment,’ Alessandro said drily.
Rachel turned away to inspect the hand weights, desperately hoping her colour would subside. She picked up the lightest pair of weights and did a couple of bicep curls. ‘I’ve never really got into the gym thing,’ she said. ‘I have friends who do several sessions a week. They get antsy if they don’t go. It’s like an addiction.’
‘There are worse things to be addicted to.’
She put the weights down and turned and looked at him again. ‘Yes, I suppose so …’
He was studying her, the hard angry look replaced now with a guarded one. ‘So what do you do to keep so trim and slim?’ he asked. ‘Hot and sweaty sessions with your latest lover?’
Rachel felt her face flame again. ‘I told you I’ve been toobusy working on my label. I haven’t dated in a while. Actually, not since I broke off my engagement.’
His eyes registered her statement with a tiny flicker of surprise but then he covered it quickly. His voice when he spoke was cynical. ‘I somehow can’t picture you as a born-again virgin, Rachel. You were always starving for male attention. It didn’t matter who they were as long as you could get their notice. I fell for it and I can imagine many have done so since, more fool them.’
‘You’re never going to let it go, are you?’ she said.
His expression remained coolly calm, detached. ‘I suppose you are referring to my rather clumsy marriage proposal.’
Rachel’s heart was thudding as if she had just done a triple circuit of the equipment in the room with a half marathon thrown in as well. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to … to—’
‘To what?’ He cut her off almost savagely, his eyes blazing again. ‘To admit I loved you?’
She
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