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worked opposite shifts. At least I
didn’t have to hear what was going on behind the wall. Although I
didn’t really appreciate finding men’s underwear in our laundry
basket. Yuck!
    “I need to hit
the pillow.” She pushed off the sofa and weaved between the
furniture toward her bedroom.
    I twisted my
spine, releasing some pressure, and then tied my hair in an elastic
band and pulled on a pair of sweats. The gym was only four blocks
away, so I jogged there. A promise of snow lingered in the air, and
I had a feeling we’d have an early winter. Tomorrow, I’d drive to
visit my mother in South Carolina. I’d check out the local stores
and shops and watch her apartment for a couple of days to see
whether Wright was staking it out. If he was, it was time to move
again. And somehow, I’d have to find a new plan to get rid of him.
That is, if Cross had really hired someone else.
    Inside the
gym, I worked through four reps of crunches, push ups, and squats –
my warm-up routine. My muscles began to ache, but in a good way.
The sweat dripped down my back and I stepped up on the treadmill,
cranking it up to full speed within minutes; or at least as fast as
my legs could take me. The gym was still empty, for most part,
smelling of fresh aloe and baking soda. Exercising in the morning,
before the rush of sweaty armpits, was a better remedy than the
tequila. And I could have sworn the liquor was still evaporating
from my pores.
    Someone turned
on the machine beside me. I kept up my pace, concentrating on the
protein drink advertisement ahead. The smell of musk and Old Spice
wafted around me, and I knew it was a man on the other treadmill.
Why so close to me? Why not use a machine further down the aisle? I
finally gave in to my curiosity, reduced the speed, and turned to
my right. My brows narrowed into a frown.
    I shouldn’t
have been surprised. There he was, in his “I’m the sexiest man
alive” red shorts that reminded me of the ones hunky H&M models
wore enticing women to shop in the store. I tried to imagine the
soft flesh underneath Cross’s shorts and wondered how fast I could
make him hard. The thought disappeared as soon as he caught me
staring, and I felt my cheeks heat up.
    “You’re
following me.” I tried to divert his attention.
    Cross jogged
in a slow warm-up, grinning. “It’s a public gym.”
    “I’ve been
coming here for two years and never seen you.”
    “Because I
choose when I want to be seen, Allie. Good morning, Cole.” He waved
to one of the trainers.
    Either Cross
knew everyone in town, or he did come here and I hadn’t seen him.
But instinct told me it was too much of a coincidence for him to be
here at five in the morning. Was this the chance Laura spoke
about?
    “You’re making
me wait a long time. Why haven’t you applied yet?” he asked.
    “I’ve heard
the position’s been filled.”
    The frown on
his face told me he hadn’t been expecting this. I had caught him
off guard. “It’s not filled. It’s just waiting for the right
applicant.”
    Could it
really be possible? Was Tristan Cross still waiting for me to
apply? A spark of hope ignited in my chest and then weaved down my
body to heat the most sensitive places. Perhaps all was not lost.
The details of the mysterious job of a hooker surged my curiosity
to its highest. I was almost sure he’d been kidding the other
day.
    As much as I
didn’t want to play the hard-to-get type, even for a job, I had a
feeling Cross liked to be kept on his toes. “All good things come
to those who wait. Is there a deadline?”
    “The sooner
the better, Allie. I’m a patient man, but the job requires specific
training and it’s time-sensitive.”
    I yanked the
safety string that tied me to the treadmill and it slowed my run to
a halt. “What training? What’s my deadline?” I lowered my hands to
my hips, controlling my breathing.
    “When was the
last time you practiced your karate?”
    “Is there
anything you don’t know about