Chapter 7
Chelsea
Once upon a time hot men had made me swoon.
Not necessarily in the same way as I’d read in one of Samantha’s books, but enough I’d fall into a fit of crazed heat and giggles when the object of my affection smiled or even looked in my direction.
That was a long time ago in a world far away.
Los Angeles was certainly one million percent different than Seattle.
I’d learned quickly after moving to the Northwestern city that the people were highly educated, politically progressive, and completely tech savvy.
In LA, people were very… eclectic in tastes, wants, and needs.
More than half were carbon copies of my parents.
Entitled.
Sadly, my quirky artistic abilities certainly fit better in the areas surrounding Hollywood than in the specialty coffee chains and health food stores.
If there was something else I’d come to understand over the last couple of weeks, it was that the people of Seattle took their sports teams seriously.
Tailgating was an artform, traffic a nightmare when there was any game on the horizon, no matter the sport.
Maybe that was another reason I wasn’t enthused about any further dealings with the hockey player, not that I needed another.
Fortunately, I didn’t catch sight of the hot-swimmer-heavy-weightlifter for the duration of my workday or after changing into my leotards. By the time I made it into the dance studio, I’d all but forgotten what he looked like.
Yeah, right. As if that was possible.
When the door closed behind me, I headed to the small stereo system, selecting a piece of music.
I didn’t feel like practicing the medley I’d be dancing to in a few days, instead choosing a more romantic Spanish guitar piece.
I needed work on creating fluid motions, becoming one with the music as the dance instructor had conveyed.
After a slow start that including admonishing myself in the mirror, I remembered a favored exercise of keeping my eyes closed. If I didn’t want to run headfirst into a wall, I’d need to maintain spatial awareness. Feeling the music deep within my core was the only way of doing so.
I’d found it so incredibly hard to let go, the pressure of trying to be something I wasn’t and could never be like a noose around my neck. In putting my foot down, I’d added an entirely different burden, one equally as suffocating but now based on aspects of guilt.
But not today.
Today I refused to allow my anxiety or voices of the naysayers to take away what I loved the most. Dance. Simple. Pure. Felt from the heart.
Halfway through the piece, a moment of joy swept through me. Not only was I able to embrace the powerful chords and lyrical vocals, but with every step and turn, every jeté and pirouette, I became the music.
Sensual. Demanding.
Craving. I craved a bigger taste of the darkness from emotions evoked by the powerful song, thrilled every muscle was fluid.
As the crescendo approached, I opened my eyes long enough to fly through the air, both legs extended, my back arched and hands over my head.
When I landed on exactly the right beat, I pumped my hand, which certainly wasn’t part of the choreography, but I just didn’t care.
I felt gleeful, emboldened by the taste of freedom.
As the song began to wind down, I floated across the room, covering every inch of the floor.
Drumbeats matched those of my heart, my pulse skyrocketing and as the last vibrato of the chorus began to fade, I gave another spin before I slipped to the floor.
I draped my arms over my extended leg, taking a few seconds to taste the air that also seemed different than before.
The moment the room fell into silence, I sensed another presence. The applause was a dead giveaway about who had dared enter my private space.
As I slowly lifted my head, I gathered another whiff of his masculine scent, which was no longer laden with sweat.
My eyes raked up from his boots to his faded blue jeans, avoiding the constant thick bulge between his legs while I absorbed how handsome he appeared in a forest green henley before settling my gaze on his face.
Dark lashes framed his intense emerald eyes, enhancing a picture-perfect bone structure.
He was leaning casually against the open door, offering the same if not slightly more mischievous grin.
“That was incredible, Clementine.”
I cocked my head, my gaze turning into a full-blown glare. “Do you always go around entering closed rooms without knocking?” I hoisted myself off the floor, immediately walking toward the towel bin.
“Isn’t the gym an open space?”
My teeth were gritted. “These rooms are signed out for members to use. For one hour, this is my private space.”
When I didn’t hear anything, I was hopeful he’d left. My body told me otherwise since every muscle was twitching.
A quick look in the mirror told me I was right. “Are you just going to keep standing there staring at me?” As I wiped sweat from my face and neck, I tried to avert my eyes. He was far too handsome to keep looking at.
“I was thinking I would until you agreed to go out with me.”
Why in the hell did he feel such a need to coerce me into going out with him? “Don’t you have a hundred girls climbing all over you?”
His shrug was obvious in the mirror. “They aren’t interested in me as a person, just the guy in the sweater.”
“Do you actually believe pouting is going to convince me to go out with you?”
“A guy can try.”
I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing. I’d honestly never had any man work so hard for one date. “Remember what I told you. Dating members is against the rules.”
“That’s what I came to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve cancelled my membership.” He deadpanned the moment, staring straight at me.
What?
“You are kidding me.”
He shook his head. “Nope. My father always told me never to bring a problem to the table without a solution. Quick and easy. Now you can’t say no.”
Forget giving him an A for effort. He’d crossed into an entirely new category that had no name. “You didn’t.”
“Why not? There are a half dozen other fitness clubs. Plus, I can work out at the arena.”
“Then why haven’t you been?” I found myself walking closer, which should definitely be considered against the rules. But if he was willing to break them, my psyche seemed to think doing so wouldn’t be a bad idea.
He looked away briefly and without him trying, I noticed a different look in his eyes. Maybe a flash of anxiety? Maybe he didn’t like working out in front of his buddies. That was interesting, maybe adding to his credibility a tiny bit.
“I like to do my own thing without an audience. So, you’ll go out with me.”
Now it wasn’t a question but more of demand.
“I didn’t agree.” But I had to admit I was leaning toward saying yes.
“I promise you I’ll be a gentleman.”
“Uh-huh.”
He slapped his hand over his heart. “You wound me.”
“You don’t appear as if you’re suffering.” Maybe I was more of a sadist than I realized since I was yanking his chain. Why not make him beg for it?
You are one bad girl.
When had I ever been given the opportunity?
I gave him a wide berth as I headed toward the door and would have squeezed past had he not stepped right in front of me. The closeness was jarring even without touching.
“Come on. Do a guy a solid.” His hot breath skimmed my face, the hint of cinnamon a lovely surprise. So were the tingles wrapping around my shoulders.
And talk about a deep, sultry voice. The man had it in spades.
“Why do you want to go out with me so much?”
“Honestly?”
“No, lie to me. Of course I want you to be honest. I can’t stand liars or cheats.” I held my own, never blinking as I stared into his eyes.
He took a few seconds and nodded. “Then I’ll never lie to you. You’re not like the other girls. You’ve intelligent. You have a spark and I like that.”
“A spark.”
“Yeah. As if you don’t plan on allowing the world to drag you down.”
“A lovely compliment. However, there’s more to why. Isn’t there?”
Now he appeared sheepish, which was way too adorable. “Okay. Believe it or not, I don’t go on many dates, but there hasn’t been a chick who’s turned me down before.”
I studied him and from being so close, I could see every flaw in his face and body.
There were none. Not one.
He was the real deal, GQ packaged in LL Bean.
“I appreciate your honesty.”
The man was genuinely happy I’d complimented him, his smile no longer holding the arrogant aw-shucks rebellious attitude as before. “Then you’ll go out with me. I know a little bar we could go to. You know, to talk. Get to know each other.”
I took a deep breath instead of answering right away. The jury was in. I was definitely a sadist.
“Please?”
The single word made me cave. “Okay. I’ll go out with you. One date.”
His fist pump was unexpected. “Awesome.”
“But there will be rules,” I told him.
“Such as?”
I had to think about what I wanted. The truth was that enjoying even an hour with a sizzling guy might be good for the passion in my artistry. Since that had been sorely lacking over the last several months. “Such as one drink.”
“I can live with that.”
“No touching.”
His slight frown almost had me smiling. “You drive a hard bargain, but okay.”
“Then I agree to go out with you. When?”
“How about right now?”
I hadn’t anticipated dropping everything and going on this date.
What about clothes? What about getting sexed up?
The little voice inside my head instantly chastised me.
If this was really no big deal, then why was I worried about how sexy I looked?
“I need to take a shower. We can meet somewhere.” If I hurried, that would allow me a few options.
To go home and change into something less… boyish? Or to require him to handle the real girl, one who wasn’t into dressing in fancy clothes like my roommate?
Decisions. Decisions.
He shrank back a little, his brow furrowing. “Yeah, okay. We can do that. But you should know if you don’t show up, I’ll be forced to track you down. I do know where you work.”