Take a Chance on Me (9 page)

Blake laughed. “So, I’m Option D. Last one left, right?”

“Pretty much.” I grinned at him. “Actually, I think you’re the only one who might be able to help me anyway. There’s this woman—”

“There always is.”

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of crazy about her, and I think—I
think
—she’s noticing me, too, but I’m not positive. I don’t know. This is just not normal for me. I’m not used to feeling this…insecure or whatever. This unsure of someone’s feelings. I send out these obvious signals to her and I think she’s sending signals back, but there’s been nothing definite.”

Blake took a big bite of his sandwich and stared at me thoughtfully as he chewed. Finally, he said, “You mean, she’s not actually throwing herself at you, like most women?”

“Right,” I had to admit. That was the usual scenario, and Nia definitely hadn’t done that.

My brother rolled his eyes. “Did you maybe try asking her out?”

I shook my head. “No. There’s a complication—”

“There always is.”

“Yeah, well, it involves another guy.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Her supposed ‘boyfriend,’ I guess.”

“You
guess
that she has a boyfriend? Are you kidding me, Chance? You’re encroaching on another guy’s girl?”

“I don’t think it’s a serious thing. There’s no real commitment, from what I can tell. She just introduced him to her parents for the first time on Friday and—”

“She introduced him to the family? Bro, that’s kind of serious.”

I shook my head. “But I saw them together Friday night, and that wasn’t the vibe I got. Not at all. He was barely looking at her. And she seemed…not entirely herself. Thing is, he’s a big shot. One of the dudes at the Jordan-Luccio Corporation.”

“Which one of the dudes? A manager or something?”

“No. The Jordan one.”

Blake raised a dark eyebrow, impressed. “You’re telling me that you’re trying to steal Grant Jordan’s girlfriend?”

“Screw you. I’m not trying to
steal
her. I think she’s attracted to me, too, but she just won’t say anything. So, then I find myself wondering… Oh, never mind.”

“What?”

I kicked at a pebble with my sneaker. “Maybe she’s not saying anything because she
wants
Grant Jordan.”

“Do you mean his body? Or do you mean his money, his position in society, and his relative fame?”

“All of the above,” I admitted. “I suppose he’s not ugly. Women seemed to find him attractive, anyway.” I shrugged. “And I know his net worth is in the millions, but I don’t get the sense that she’s a gold digger. I just wonder if, maybe, he’s the better man.”

Blake squinted at me and put down his sandwich. “Look, Chance, I’m your brother. I’m biased. But I don’t think a woman could find a better man than you.”

“I’m not fishing for complimen—”

“I know you’re not. Hear me out, though. All bias aside, you’re not asking the right question here. It’s not whether Grant is a better man, which I think is debatable and highly unlikely.” Blake looked me in the eye and, without the slightest trace of humor, said, “The question is whether Grant is the better man
for her
.”

I sighed. He was right. Too often others underestimated my brother or dismissed his opinion because he was a hothead. But Blake could be more perceptive than many people—including our own siblings—realized.

“What if she doesn’t know who’s better for her yet?” I asked.

“Give her a little time. Watch her reactions. Maybe try to ask her a few more questions to get at her true feelings. Is she someone you see fairly often?”

“Yeah. She’s one of my personal training clients.”

“When does she come in?”

“Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons from two to two-thirty. Which reminds me, if you could please knock off the really suggestive love songs during that particular half hour, I’d appreciate it. No more freakin’ ‘Sexual Healing,’ got it?”

Blake threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, I got it all right. I’ll see what I can do.”

~*~

Wednesday afternoon took about three and a half years to finally get here, but I was determined to put my brother’s advice to good use.

I’d watch Nia.

I’d try to ask a few questions to get at her true feelings about Grant Jordan.

And I’d let her know—in subtle and not-so-subtle ways—that I was interested in her. Very, very interested. But if she wanted me, she’d have to make the first move.

So, when she showed up at two p.m., I smiled at her. Asked her how her day was going.

“Um, fine,” she said, her tone somewhat guarded. “Why?”

“Relax, Nia. I just want to know how you are.”

She shot me a look that said she thought I was up to something. Which, let’s face it, I was. I just smiled at her again, even bigger this time.

I pointed toward the mats. “Torso twists to start.”

She rolled her eyes, but she walked with me to that open section and grabbed the weights. She was using the five-pound ones for this exercise now. Progress! Another thing that had improved was her overall posture. She was holding herself taller and straighter while doing the exercises. I was impressed, and I told her so.

She blushed a little. It was so damned cute. “I’ve been trying to remember,” she murmured. I could tell she was pleased I’d taken the time to say something about it, though.

She did three sets of twenty reps, and then I introduced a new core crunch—perfect for ab strengthening—that used a mid-sized exercise ball.

One of the advantages-slash-disadvantages of working so closely with clients was that I got to know their position quirks fairly quickly. Nia had a tendency to drop her right shoulder and slouch to that side unless specifically instructed to pull herself back. So, for each brand-new exercise, I’d have to help her get into the correct position, at least initially. And this involved touching her shoulder and physically placing it where it needed to be.

It was my favorite part of my sessions with Nia.

As I knelt behind her on the mat and helped position her upper body for the crunches, I could feel the tightening of her biceps. The extra strength they were beginning to develop, even in the short time frame that we’d been working together.

Nia had a naturally lithe and graceful form when she moved her arms, like a dancer. But the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips continued to make my mouth run dry. These workout sessions weren’t going to change her shape, nor would I have wanted them to, but I thought they were beginning to make her more confident about her body. More knowledgeable about the way it moved.

I didn’t think she’d be caught unaware for as long now if she suddenly found herself in an uncomfortable position. Her muscle memory would kick in and remind her to hold herself with a more correct, pain-free posture. She always seemed vaguely surprised by the relief she felt in her spine and the muscles surrounding it when she pulled her shoulders back and her chest popped outward. At the same time, she also looked a little embarrassed by it. As if she was worried about her breasts being too much on display.

“Don’t be self conscious, Nia,” I told her. “You’re using absolutely correct form here. I wish everyone had lines this perfect.” I motioned at the angle of her torso to the floor. It was a beautiful forty-five degrees.

She laughed. “You’re insane,” she said, but she held the position and began doing her first set of crunches with the ball.

About halfway through, my brother’s voice came on the air. The usual radio station identification thing he always did. Then Blake said, “This next song is for a guy who asked me yesterday if he should pursue a girl he’s fallen for. I say, go for it, man.”

The tune that came on was by the duo Evan and Jaron. A love song called “Crazy for This Girl.”

I groaned.
I’m gonna kill him.

“What?” Nia asked, puffing with exertion.

Crap. I didn’t say that aloud, did I?

“Nothing, nothing. One more set,” I told her, trying to keep the wanting out of my voice, but she probably still heard it.

She sent me an odd look that didn’t seem to have anything to do with the exercise.

“Just a few more reps to go,” I said, trying to get her to refocus on the crunches. Once she reached number six, I added, “You’re almost there. Seven, eight, nine—”

“Whoa, just look at you two,” a shrill voice said from behind me, drowning out my count of ten.

Donna
. Aw, hell.

“Hey,” Nia said to her friend. “What a surprise to see you here.” The two women smiled at each other, but I couldn’t tell how genuine it was on either side. There seemed to be friction of some kind. Huh.

Donna appraised the two of us on the mat with a look that was equal parts suspicious, curious, and accusatory. “Must take a lot of training and skill to count all the way up to ten like that. Right, Chance?” she said, playing off the insult to me as if it were a joke.

But I knew it wasn’t.

Donna liked to insinuate that I was a dumb jock whenever possible. I’d broken up with her and, therefore, must be utterly lacking in sense. Truth was, I knew she had a very fragile ego, and I’d already bruised it. Badly.

I’d take the heat for that and not fight back, though. Long ago, I made it a rule never to pick on people who were weaker than me in any area, so I was just going to let her get her digs in. I could ignore her and, besides, I didn’t want her to make a scene.

Nia, however, took a totally different tack.

She shot Donna a steely look. “You’re so right. It
does
take skill,” she agreed. “Chance has an instinctive ability to know just how long each rep should be for optimal results.” She set the exercise ball firmly on the mat and stood up to her full height. Shoulders back. Chest out. Perfect posture. Her expression was that of a fierce lady warrior. I saw Donna take a surprised step backward.

I stood up as well, too stunned and pleased by the unexpected defense to say anything. I didn’t need anybody to bolster my ego, but I couldn’t believe how grateful I was to know that Nia cared enough to
want
to defend me.

Much as I hated showy public displays of affection or sappy outpourings of emotion, I could have kissed her right then and there in the middle of Harbor Fitness. My sister would probably take me in for a psych evaluation if she knew what was running through my mind, but that was how much Nia’s words meant to me.

“And you know what else?” Nia said brightly to her friend, adding a piercing smile. “My back is feeling
so
much better. Even after just five sessions. Chance is a rare find.” She nodded solemnly in my direction. “He knew exactly which exercises would help. I’m very thankful to
you,
Donna, for recommending him so highly to me.”

Well, that shut my ex up for good. She sputtered something unintelligible at us—“Have fun,” maybe?—and backed even further away.

“Good seeing you, Donna,” I managed, trying to ease the sting of her shock but hardly able to keep from laughing. In all the months I’d known that woman, I couldn’t remember ever seeing her so close to speechless.

I caught Nia’s smile as her friend skulked away from us, but then she masked it. “Don’t get a big head or anything, Chance, but everything I said was true.”

Did she know what she was doing to me?

Did she have a clue how much I admired her? Enjoyed being with her? Wanted her?

I couldn’t tell her any of this, I knew, but I tried to pour what I was feeling into my gaze, hoping she might just see it in my eyes. “Thank you, Nia.” I paused. “And I promise not to get too big of a big head.”

For a long moment, we just stared at each other. Wordless, but I felt as though a whole conversation could be packed into that silence.

Then her lips twisted slightly and she said, “So, Friday, I can’t come in.”

“Why?”

She exhaled. “I have a, um, prior engagement.”

My heart skipped a few beats at the word “engagement,” even though I knew better. Knew it wasn’t a precursor to a wedding. At least not yet.

But, suddenly, it seemed imperative to make sure our workout sessions were more of a priority for her. We were halfway through them already, and I was running out of time to win her over.

So, I took an unhappy guess and asked, “Another date with Grant Jordan?”

She nodded, but it wasn’t an enthusiastic nod.
Good
. Although she looked worried about something, which, in turn, worried me.

“Well, you have my cell number if your plans change. Just text me and let me know,” I said, sending her a significant look. “I’m free Friday afternoon and evening, and I can fit you in almost any time that night. So, even if you come home late, I can meet you here. The gym is open until midnight.”

“That—that won’t be necessary, Chance. You don’t need to be quite so accommodating of my schedule.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” I assured her. “You’ve made such tremendous progress already, I don’t want you to backslide or reinjure yourself.”

She looked amused. “I’ve never known anyone who’s shown this level of concern for my health and wellness.”