Full Disclosure (No Secrets Book 1) Page 8

  She continued without taking a breath. “And he’s gorgeous. And filthy rich, clearly. What’s his story, anyway?”

  “His story?”

  “What’s he do for a living? You did ask him, didn’t you?”

  “Um, no. Why would I ask that?”

  “You’re killing me.” She groaned, and I could picture her shaking her head in disgust. Well, if she was so interested in his story, maybe she should just ask him herself. As soon as I considered that, I felt nauseated. I might not have wanted the attentions of Damien Stone, but Justine would get his contact info over my dead body. And the ramifications of why I felt that way disturbed me on a whole other level. This day was not starting out good at all.

  “I’m going back to sleep now,” I yawned, even though something told me sleep was over now that thoughts of Damien were running through my brain. Damn Justine.

  “So, Paramour was jumping after you left. Looks like people are finally coming out of hibernation. Wanna hit it Friday again?”

  “Friday’s a long ways away, but yeah, I suppose.” A thought occurred to me. “Hey, you want to go with me to the UPS store today? I need to return this bike.”

  She snorted. “I’ll go with you, but UPS isn’t open today. It’s the weekend.” She said it like I should know the store hours.

  “Guess I’ll do it Monday,” I mused, considering my schedule and logistics. Would they box it for me? Did they have a box to fit it?

  “I’ll go with you if I can. You should take the The Beast, or maybe ask James to borrow his truck. That bike sounds like the fricking Sistine Chapel of bikes. You don’t want to scuff it. He might charge you for damages.” She laughed maniacally, as if this was the funniest thing she had ever said.

  But in a way she was right. I needed to return the bike in pristine condition, or risk possible repercussions. No strings, no further communications.

  Because further communication with Damien Stone was the last thing I wanted.

  * * *

  Monday morning saw me sailing through the doors at Star One Fitness, refreshed after a lazy Sunday of laundry and binge watching So You Think You Can Dance. Just like every other morning, I scanned the floor, taking in Justine putting her spin class through its paces and Boone instructing a group of kickboxers. It was always busy this early, and I noticed many of our regulars at work on the machines.

  But then my heart faltered and I almost tripped over my own feet when I picked out Damien among the treadmillers. What was he doing here? I stopped in the middle of the main passage, my eyes glued to his muscular form. He was wearing black running shorts and a gray tank that did nothing to conceal the rippling muscles of his arms and shoulders. He had clearly been here for a while, his sweat-covered skin helping to mold the tight tank firmly to his trim torso.

  He stopped and before I could engage my legs to carry me away, he turned toward me, wiping his face with a towel and breathing heavily. I was caught, ogling a customer. Ogling Damien Stone, no less. I stood there, my brain clearly on shut-down mode, and as he stared at me, a slow, sexy grin crept across his face.

  I dragged my eyes away, looking anywhere but at him, and caught Justine as her class began to leave. She looked at me oddly, then her eyes shifted toward Damien and widened before returning to mine with her brows as high as they would go.

  “Hello, Olivia.”

  He had moved to stand directly beside me. I turned to him, unsmiling. “Damien.” He was close enough I could smell his sweat and feel the heat wafting off his body. “Are you a guest here today?”

  He continued to wipe himself down, and I couldn’t help but follow his every movement. “I hope you don’t mind, but I joined the gym.” He smiled broadly, his white teeth glinting.

  I narrowed my eyes at him as my anger began to take hold. Of all the gyms in the city, he had picked Star One. This was my gym. I was pissed, and he was going to learn the extent of my pissiness right now!

  “You just don’t give up, do you? Why do I believe you’re only here to antagonize me? You snooped through my purse, found out where I work, and now, wonder of all wonders, look who the cat dragged in?” I seethed, my mind racing with ways we could terminate his membership.

  “Olivia,” he murmured, leaning into me and following my automatic step back with a step forward of his own. “You underestimate the lengths to which I will go to prove my intentions. And you forget I know how your body reacts to mine.”

  Heat flushed through me at his close proximity, and I remembered how it felt to be in his arms, his lips eating hungrily at mine, his hand flexing sensually at my breast. He stepped back slowly, and my eyes zoned in on his mouth.

  “And just what are your intentions,” I said, wincing at the breathiness of my voice.

  Vivid green eyes bored into me, and I was certain all my secrets were laid bare before him.

  “To get inside you.”

  My breath hitched and a sharp tingle attacked the sensitive flesh between my legs. I could neither move nor speak, so we stood there staring at each other, my chest heaving, cold fury battling with heated lust within every nerve of my body.

  “Never going to happen.”

  He smiled that sexy smile again. “It will.” His eyes sparkled, driving all the breath from my body.

  We stared at one another as I struggled to maintain my shaking limbs. My foot itched to begin its nervous tapping. I needed to get away from his overwhelming presence, stat!

  “Hi, Damien.” Justine now stood beside me, smiling furiously, and some of the tension dissipated, much to my relief. “What’s this I hear you’ve joined up? You should think about trying out my spin class.”

  He smiled deliciously at me again before turning to Justine, immediately all business charm.

  “Justine. Always a pleasure to see you. Spin class, you say?” His burning eyes skirted back to capture mine. “I am definitely up to the challenge.”

  I smiled wanly, turned on my heel and headed toward the yoga room. My sudden exit was rude, but at this point I didn’t care. He was the one who had invaded my space. He thought I needed to learn manners? I huffed, fuming at his insolence and arrogance.

  Oh Damien, you have overstepped your mark. If you want a showdown, you’ll get one. The lesson in manners I’ll throw in gratis.

  CHAPTER 6

  I tended to forget birthdays, anniversaries, appointments, but during the course of that long week, not for a single second did I forget that my workplace was now dominated by the presence of one seriously infuriating control freak. The only silver lining to my daily misery was that Damien tended to come to the gym early and left within a few minutes of my arrival. But he never missed a day. And even though he kept to the same schedule, I never knew if one day I would find him, say, strolling into my kickboxing class. Or demanding me personally to train him.

  His words‌—‌as crude as they were‌—‌had awakened something inside me and it was pointless to deny. I had never been so turned on as I was when in his presence. Just seeing him as I came through the doors each morning, all sweaty and working with purpose, was enough to set my heart racing and my belly fluttering.

  But just because I was attracted to him didn’t mean I had to act on it.

  After that first Monday, I had kept my distance, and to his credit, he had not approached me. In fact, he hadn’t said a single word to me all week. And as I passed by him each morning, I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t spare even a single glance in my direction.

  All of which left me in a state of constant anxiety.

  So it was little wonder that not until Friday did I finally find the cajones to approach him. I had a specific and important reason for doing so, and I kept telling myself this on my drive into work…‌on my walk through the parking lot, where his black‌—‌and chauffeur-less‌—‌Porsche practically screamed at me to notice, and to remember what took place within…‌and when I opened the front doors and homed in on him as i
f I were a heat-seeking missile.

  He was on a treadmill, the same one he used every morning, and as if he sensed me headed toward him, he quickly shut down and stepped off, turning to face me while lazily whipping a towel over his shoulder.

  I didn’t bother with pleasantries, wanting to get right to the point. I had practiced my delivery and felt sure of myself. From my position in the driver’s seat, there was no way I would let the minor issue of his overwhelming attractiveness stand in my way. So it was concerning when my body betrayed me even before I uttered a single word.

  As I neared, I automatically breathed him in, and only just stopped my eyes from closing in pleasure. He smelled so male. I wanted to lean in closer to allow the heat pouring off his body to envelop mine. Arousal bloomed hot and heavy, shocking me out of my animalistic senses and back to my wits.

  “I have a proposition to discuss with you.” As soon as I said the words I regretted them, and braced for the suggestive comments sure to follow.

  His hand gripped the towel and moved it across his face, wet with exertion. His flexing bicep pulsed at me like a beacon, and it took most of my willpower to keep my eyes averted.

  “Olivia.” He continued to rub the towel over his hard body. “What can I help you with?”

  I couldn’t help the arch of my brows. I was surprised at his businesslike manner.

  And my carefully prepared speech went flying out the window.

  “Oh. Uh…‌Look, I realize it’s not a big deal to you, but to me it’s a big deal. It was kind of you, really, really, kind, and generous, but it’s just too much and it makes me uncomfortable and I’d really, really like it if you’d please take the bike back and I was going to ship it back to you but your business card did not list an actual address, only the building, and I didn’t think UPS would accept just the building and to be honest I just don’t feel right mailing it to you considering how much it cost, so I was hoping you would give me your actual address, not where you live, of course.” My eyes bulged at the unintended implication. “Just your work address and I will run the bike over. Tonight. Or sometime this weekend. Because I’d like to get this taken care of ASAP.”

  I pressed my lips together to prevent further incessant babbling.

  I could tell that this was not what Damien was expecting. Emotions flashed across his face and seconds ticked by like hours.

  “And what do I get out of this proposition?”

  “Um…‌well, you get the bike back. And it would make me happy to return it.” I struggled for composure, ignoring the pangs of regret that came from his obvious displeasure.

  Finally, he nodded curtly. “If it makes you that uncomfortable, I will have Paul collect it. Shall we say, tonight at seven? You’ll be home?”

  “Yes.” Relief coursed through me. “I’ll be there.” I gave a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Damien.”

  He stared hard at me before tossing his towel in the laundry receptacle. “Have a good day, Olivia.” His lip came up Mona Lisa-like, and then I was left with the view of his firm backside striding out the door.

  Now that he was gone, that hollow feeling returned. My relief faded with my smile.

  * * *

  “I can’t do drinks tonight.”

  I was in the office, eating my lunch‌—‌chicken soup from the sandwich shop. Justine plopped down in Weldon’s uncomfortable guest chair, grimacing. “Shit, this chair hurts.”

  “Are you ditching me for gun guy?” I was really looking forward to our girls’ night because 1) my last one did not reach its full girls’ night potential as a result of a) my early exit due to resultant getting-hit-by-a-car exhaustion, and b) Damien showing up and causing a completely un-girls’ night vibe, and 2) as of seven o’clock I would be minus the bike and another step closer to closing the chapter on the above mentioned girls’ night vibe quasher and wanted to celebrate.

  Justine looked at me as if I were crazy. “Gun guy didn’t even make it into my contact list.” She exhaled noisily. “I forgot I was seeing Mamma Mia with my own mamma mia. Her neighbor’s granddaughter’s cousin’s friend’s Sunday school teacher or someone is in it, and I told her weeks ago I’d go. I blame Margaret for forgetting to remind me.” From the first day I’d met her in second grade, Justine had always called her mother by her first name.

  I made a sad face. “You suck, you know that?”

  She just nodded. “I know. Rain check?”

  “Yeah yeah,” I said, feigning disgust. “I’ll just stay home and wash my hair, rearrange my sock drawer and paint my nails. On a Friday night.”

  She ignored my dig. “So did I see you up close and personal with a certain gorgeous treadmill runner this morning?”

  I figured she had seen our conversation. Justine missed nothing, especially if it was potentially salacious. Too bad she was about to be disappointed in what I said next.

  “You officially need glasses, Granny. We were an appropriate distance apart and discussed the return of his bike, which he is sending his chauffeur for tonight, if you must know.”

  “Ooh, his chauffeur.” She wiggled her fingers in the air. “I wish he’d send his butler over to do my laundry.”

  “Ask him, maybe he will,” I teased, although I was strongly opposed to Justine asking anything of Damien.

  “Oh right, like he has eyes for anyone but you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how he cranks his head around and watches your every move. You breeze in, all nonchalant like, and believe me, he stares. Like if he saw me watching him stare that hard, I’d be embarrassed for him.”

  Warmth flooded my body. “Really?”

  She sat up straight and grinned. “Really.”

  I took a deep breath. “Well, it’s a shame I’m not in the market for gorgeous, sexy-as-hell, chauffeur-driven, expensive-gift-giving playboys.”

  She narrowed her eyes knowingly. “So you say, Liv. So you say.”

  * * *

  I’d gotten home by six, after a stop at a Walgreens to buy a DVD that Justine had borrowed and I knew I’d never get back. It was one of my favorite movies, a chick flick that I’d seen a million times but hey, what’s one more. Lucy was working at a Good Friday Festival somewhere in St. Charles County, so it would be me, myself and I tonight. Although initially disappointed that Justine cancelled, I found I was actually looking forward to some alone time after a stressful week.

  A twenty-minute relaxing shower later, I am poised in the kitchen in baggy Pink sweats and a loose T-shirt, my hair in messy waves. As soon as my dealings with Paul were over, the bra would come off, too.

  I looked through the takeout menus, deciding on a Thai place, my stomach growling at the mere thought of food. Just before connecting the call, the doorbell rang. Frowning, I could only guess that Paul was fifteen minutes early as I headed to the door.

  Peering through the living room window, I was anything but prepared when I saw Damien standing on the porch.

  Goose bumps raced across my skin. Was he here for the bike? Well, of course he was. Even so, I briefly considered hiding so I could ignore him. He’d go away eventually, yes, but I’d still be stuck with the bike. And then he might not take it back at all.

  Composing myself, I checked my appearance, slightly aghast at the sight, but I had no time to change into something more appropriate. The doorbell rang again, and I hustled to the door.

  He was dressed in gray slacks, black expensive-looking loafers and a moss green button-down shirt with the collar open at the throat and the sleeves rolled up. His brown hair curled around the collar and that floppy lock hung just so over his forehead. His eyes somehow soaked up the green of his shirt. I couldn’t stop looking at them.

  I swallowed and my heart began to pound. “Damien?”

  He took a step toward me. “Hello, Olivia.” His eyes swept over me, and I felt exposed, particularly when they stopped at my bare feet. “Staying in tonight?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, ignorin
g his question. “I was expecting Paul. You specifically said Paul would stop by.”

  He smiled, that slow, sexy, drool-worthy smile that made my skin tingle and my pulse race. “Paul had some business to take care of. I came a bit early assuming you may have had plans. But it appears you don’t?” His head tilted.

  “I’m— I was just…”

  “Because it so happens I stopped on the way over and bought more chicken curry than I could ever finish myself.” He took another step closer.

  “Seriously?” I found my voice. “Damien, this isn’t a good idea.”

  “Surely we can be friends, Olivia. And friends can share a carton of chicken curry the size of Montana when they are both free on a Friday night.”

  As I was staring at his earnest face, shaking my head in exasperation, my stomach growled. It wasn’t the kind of growl a person could pretend they didn’t hear. No, this was one of those growls that went on for about ten minutes and causes one to promise their firstborn child to the gods if they would just let the ground swallow them up immediately.

  Damien tried, but couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. I wanted to crawl into a hole‌—‌that was, until I saw the transformation that came over him when he began laughing. That beautiful face, usually alternating between stern and sexy, simply lit up. It was stunning. My emotions ran swiftly from embarrassment to curiosity to awe. I could have watched Damien in laughter mode all day and still want more, even at my own expense. And it was infectious because within a few moments I was laughing too.

  “I didn’t mean to laugh. I’m sorry,” he said, between gulps of air. He had somehow closed the gap between us and we stood within touching distance. His hair had flopped over his forehead again, and I wanted desperately to smooth it back.

  “Oh, God. I’m mortified.” My hands moved to partially cover my face.

  “Don’t be. But I must warn you: my stomach’s going to growl if I don’t eat soon.”

  This was a side of Damien I’d not seen. Playful, self-deprecating, friendly. I could feel myself relaxing, something I had not done yet in his presence.