Big Girl Panties (4 page)

Chapter Four

L
ogan wasn't sure the woman who showed up was the same Holly Brennan he'd met on the plane. The Holly standing before him appeared youthful and much less stressed. She wore black sweatpants, an oversized pink T-shirt, and the latest in cross-trainers. Her dark red hair looked finally tamed, pulled neatly back in a ponytail. She even carried with her a two-liter bottle of water. While he never really thought she would bail out, he was secretly impressed to see that she'd come ready to get down to business.

“Hi, Holly.” He gave her a wave, walking over to her as she entered his studio. The khaki shorts exposing his defined calves and the yellow T-shirt that pulled across his expansive torso before tucking itself in at his trim waist were nothing short of jaw-dropping. “Nice to see you again. I just need to get a couple signatures from you. Standard contract waiver sorts of things. You ready to get to work?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.” Holly smiled, taking the pen. She didn't know whether to be scared to death or psyched as hell, but she had come this far, and now there was no turning back. That opportunity had come and gone in the fifteen minutes she spent loitering on the sidewalk. The client with the time slot before hers had drifted out the door, a monster of a man she was sure was a professional basketball player. He smiled knowingly and asked if she was lost. She shook her head and said, “No, thanks.”

Holly had assumed Logan worked out of a gym, but once inside his studio she realized she'd completely miscalculated. This was exclusively his space, and she was going to receive his full attention. He really was a personal trainer, with an emphasis on “personal.” In the spacious room stood Logan, Holly, and every piece of exercise equipment known to the workout world. The place was orderly, pristine, and didn't smell like a locker room. Happy pop music drummed in the background. Holly started leaning toward scared. There would be no one here to hear her screams. She calmed herself with the thought that even someone as strong as he was would have trouble disposing of her body.

The next thing he did was weigh her. Holly's smile instantly faded and the urge to scream bordered on overwhelming as he led her to an old-fashioned balance-beam scale, the only piece of equipment that didn't look like it came from the space age.
He probably uses it to make sure people stay face-to-face with their misery as long as humanly possible. The beginnings of his wearing you down and tearing you down until you're so weak from humiliation and degradation that he can sneak in and finish you off, assassin style.

“Didn't anyone tell you these things come in digital now?” she said under her breath, thinking that at least a digital scale would be more like ripping off a Band-Aid. A few seconds and
bang!
The horrifying number slaps you in the face like an icy-cold mackerel. Holly bent down, beginning to untie her sneakers.
Every ounce counts.

“These medical-type scales are much more reliable and easier to calibrate,” Logan told her calmly. “Not to mention, I don't need a magnifying glass to read them. You can keep the shoes on; it's not going to make that much difference.” Ouch.

“Maybe the digital ones are harder to read because what they say is none of your freaking business,” Holly grumbled, standing back up. Still, she got on the scale, shaking her head in dissatisfaction the whole time, mostly at herself.

“Everyone hates this part,” Logan said, trying to settle her as he nudged the needle farther and farther to the right. “But we need a starting point. It's only a number, kid, it's only a number. But if it makes you feel better, take a good look at it; it's the last time you will ever see it.”

Holly was seventy-eight pounds from the highest number considered acceptable, even to her.

“Happy now?” She couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice. She hadn't stepped on a scale in years and now she remembered why. What did she expect? That she was somehow fooling him and herself into thinking she wasn't obese? That the scale was going to read one hundred and thirty pounds and they could both go home? A nervous laugh bubbled out of her, echoing throughout the room. A hundred and thirty pounds? Maybe if someone dug up her bones six months after she was dead and weighed them. She hadn't seen one hundred and thirty since she was in junior high. “Guess you have your work cut out for you. I think I saw the term ‘no refunds' in that thing you just made me sign. That goes for you, too, you know.”

He continued, seemingly oblivious to her sarcasm, which only made her crankier. He wrote her weight down in her file. She refused to give in to the little voice in her head urging her to grab his pen and stab him with it.

“Do you have any physical ailments I need to consider?” He looked up from the folder in his hands.

“Yeah. I'm really fat.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Only when I'm on fire.”

“Drink?”

“Whenever I'm thirsty.” For emphasis, Holly opened her bottle of water and demonstrated, some water leaking out and dribbling down her chin onto her shirt.

“Are you on drugs?”

“I'm on the pill; does that count?” Holly felt the heat rise up to her cheeks, grateful he was too busy writing in her file to see it. A widow on the pill; it sounded like an announcement that she was open for business. “You know, to regulate my cycles. And your question sounds rhetorical. Are you going to pump me full of steroids?”

“Maybe if you tell me you're going to become an Ultimate Fighter, but one step at a time, okay?” He tossed down her file and gave her a wink, figuring it was time to try a different approach. Holly found his wink adorable but was still supremely uncomfortable with his overly personal line of questioning.

“As long as you don't shoot me up with weird stuff that makes me all blotchy, like whatever happened to your neck,” Holly remarked caustically, anxious to draw the attention away from herself, even if only for a moment and at his expense. She knew exactly what had caused the mark on his neck, although she couldn't recall having seen one since Tommy first started dating Tina.

Logan's hand immediately shot up, as it had countless times during the week, to cover the faint remnants of his last encounter with Natalie. Holly had seen it. Hell, everyone for the last three days had seen it, except she was the only one ballsy enough to say something. Thank goodness he had a shirt on. He shuddered to think what she might have come up with if she saw that his back still looked like something out of a Freddy Krueger movie.

“That's very clever,” he replied offhandedly. “People usually wait until
after
the workout before trying to antagonize me.” He smiled at just how wide her eyes got and how quickly she shut her mouth. Score one for Hickey Man.

They started out slow, strolling on twin treadmills. Casually, they talked of simple things, all the while Logan observing her stance, her breathing, just how in or out of shape she really was. He smiled to himself. She was relaxed, lucid; she was going to be fine. He stopped his walking, turning his focus solely on her. He gradually kicked up the intensity and her treadmill's incline until he saw the sweat start to bead around her neck and her breathing become labored. He wound the treadmill back down and she rehydrated. Then he moved on with some weight lifting on machines that had pulleys, which seemed innocuously easy to Holly. They threw around a medicine ball, and by the time they were done, almost an hour later, she was sweating clear through her shirt and her hair was all but dripping. He handed her a towel and a fresh bottle of cold water he pulled out of a nearby refrigerator.

“You did good, kid. Have I scared you away?”

She took a huge gulp and a deep breath. “Do I look scared? I can't wait to try those.” She pointed to the row of free-weight curling dumbbells and barbells racked along a mirrored wall.

“You look soaked,” he replied, feeling the rush that came with seeing a client through a good workout, appreciative that she wasn't the type to give a thought to what she looked like. That would only rob her of the focus she needed to get into the zone. He, of course, hadn't even broken a sweat. “We have an extra ten minutes before your session's over. I was going to cool you down. If you like, we can do some dead lifts and skull crushers instead.”

“Hell, why stop with dead lifts and skull crushers? Let's add some vein rippers and lung collapsers while we're at it,” she said, smirking. “What's with all the scary names?”

Holly Brennan was a real smart-ass.
This might be fun,
Logan thought, and smiled with satisfaction. “It's only going to get harder.”

Holly held up her water bottle in a toast, subtly looking him up and down. “Here's to hoping.”

“Come with me.” Logan took a step away from all the equipment, waving his arm for her to follow. He walked over to a small alcove in the corner of the gym where thick blue cushy mats replaced the black waffled rubber carpet designed to absorb impact. When she joined him, he took her towel and pointed to the mats.

“Lie down,” he said. “On your back.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I'm going to stretch you out,” he told her.

“For a minute there I thought we were taking this relationship to another level.” Holly laughed uncomfortably. She wasn't sure what he was talking about, but it sounded like something that happened in a dungeon and involved a rack.

“I'm waiting.” He settled his hands on his hips, all business.

“I'm all sweaty and smelly,” she said uneasily. She couldn't think of anything she wanted less than for him to touch her.

“I know. I got you that way. And I'm still waiting.”

“That's okay. I don't need you to stretch me. I'm fine.”

“Who's the expert here? Now you're fine. You won't be tomorrow when all your muscles are screaming. Now lie down,” he repeated tersely, holding out his hand for her water bottle.

“You don't need to go all tyrant. I was trying to do you a favor,” she mumbled, doing as he told her.

“Thanks for thinking of me,” he replied, having clearly heard her.

Once she was settled on the mats, he spread her legs, and straddling one leg, he took hold of the other. Placing one hand on the heel of her sneaker and the other on her calf, he slowly began to raise her leg. When her leg was perpendicular to the floor, the hand that was previously on her foot moved lower to her calf. The hand that was on her calf moved and now rested on the back of her thigh. And then he increased the pressure.

Holly wanted to remain unaffected. But he was towering over her, seemed all around her.

“Try to relax. It won't feel as uncomfortable if you don't fight against it,” Logan said, feeling her tension.

Relax?
Holly thought.
What is he, crazy?
She hadn't been touched by anyone in almost two years. Now Zeus was climbing all over her like she was Mount Olympus. His legs were firmly pressed up against both sides of her thigh to keep her leg on the mat from moving. His hand was an inch away from her backside. And her backside was mere inches away from her front side. She was still hot, but now in a completely different way. Fresh sweat broke out on her forehead. He gently pushed her leg farther.

“Breathe into it,” he told her.

She didn't even know she was holding her breath. He pushed a fraction of an inch more with the hand on her thigh. It was uncomfortable, but nothing compared to the feeling of the pure electricity emanating from his splayed fingers.

“Breathe, girl,” he ordered with a smile. “Like during takeoffs.”

Holly took one look at the perfect dimples his smile created on his cheeks and let out all her pent-up air. He pushed a tiny bit farther, holding it for a few seconds. How the hell did he remember that? Those were the first words he ever said to her.

“I have a great memory.” He read her mind as he stood. Then he bent her leg and, moving his hand to the bottom of her sneaker, pushed her knee toward her chest. “Damn, you're flexible,” he remarked, pushing her knee up farther.

“You sound surprised.” She tried to sound casual. The sight of his exposed biceps flexing to maintain the pressure was making it next to impossible.

“More like impressed,” he replied before asking, “You okay? Tell me if anything hurts.”

“Sure. I'm fine.” She lied. Nothing actually hurt, but she couldn't have been farther from okay.

“Your face is red,” he said. “Keep breathing.”

He took her bent knee and, after kneeling down next to her, shifted it over her other leg. He placed a hand on her shoulder. Applying equal pressure, Logan held her shoulder in place and pushed her bent leg downward toward the mat, stretching the entire side of her body. Holly thought she might perish from how wonderful it felt. She fought back the urge to squirm in ecstasy beneath him. He was so very close, masterfully holding her down from above. She could smell his skin, clean with a hint of expensive cologne. He looked down from his position over her and the dimples reappeared.

“This one is a crowd favorite,” Logan said.

She was both disappointed and grateful when it ended and he laid her leg back flat on the mat.

Oh thank God,
Holly thought,
I don't know how much more of that I could stand.
She congratulated herself on maintaining her composure.

And then he straddled the leg he was done with, he grabbed her other leg, and the exquisite torture began all over again.

She managed to withstand his repeating the process by thinking of nothing but breathing and refusing to look directly at him. It bordered on hopeless. His being invaded every one of her senses with every one of his. He softly murmured words of encouragement and support, and his hands overran all her nerve endings. She was certain if she actually looked into his face and he smiled at her again, she would liquefy. She didn't see how it could get any worse. Until he sat her up, knelt behind her, and began to massage her shoulders. His strong powerful hands were surprisingly gentle. He moved her ponytail to the side to gain better access. She could feel his breath warm on the back of her neck. He was completely unconcerned with her drenched condition. His warm hands sensually kneaded; his thumbs pressed into her shoulder blades and rubbed. She wanted to scream, she wanted to moan. She felt as languid as if she'd just been made love to. He finally rose. He moved in front of her and, bracing his feet, held out his hands. She automatically put her hands in his and planted her own feet on the floor. He exhaled and easily hauled her up until she was standing beside him.