Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels) - By Stacy Gail Page 0,3
a personal trainer, you take on private clients?”
It was an impulse. But asking while in front of the older man, someone she clearly trusted, seemed like a decent idea so he rolled with it. When she paused and looked him over as if he were a side of beef that may or may not be rancid, Nate cursed his foundering instincts. God, he hated flying blind like this. Six months since he’d lost his inner compass and he still hadn’t gotten used to running on normal human instincts.
Maybe he was wrong about her.
“My schedule is pretty packed and I only train on-property. If you’re looking for concierge service, you’ll need to talk to another trainer.”
He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t a no. “I don’t even know what concierge service is.”
“Jacob here offers in-home personal training sessions, as well as dietary and lifestyle guidance. If that’s what you’re looking for...”
“In-house is good.” It was a cautious way of doing things, with no chance of putting herself in a position where she’d be alone and at the mercy of another. A smart move for any woman, but he liked how this wary trait fit his profile. If only he could see her back, he’d know for certain that she was the one.
She gave him another head-to-toe sweep, and for no reason at all his skin began to heat. “Do you have a particular area you want to target?”
“My focus is to beef up my training for the Chicago marathon. My endurance sucks.” Did Chicago even have a marathon? He was almost sure it did, though he couldn’t imagine anyone voluntarily running in a place that seemed as frozen over as Santa’s backyard. “I’ve been working out on my own but I’ve hit a plateau. When you told me what your specialty is, it seemed like a sign from above.”
Her friend, Jacob, grunted a sound that could have meant anything before he took his leave through the heavy doors. Nate watched the older man go with a surge of two-toned relief. Not only did his absence signal that Nate had been deemed harmless, but now that he had her all to himself he had a sudden urge to take her off to someplace one hell of a lot more private than a gym doorway.
She watched Jacob’s retreat as well before she turned her attention back to him. “The marathon is in October, so...seven months from now. Plenty of time to get your stamina up to the level you need, as long as you’re serious about this.”
“Trust me, I’m serious about everything I do.”
“I don’t trust without a very good reason.”
He searched her face, trying to superimpose the memory of a shattered woman, pale from blood loss and near death, over the woman who stood before him now. There were many differences, but...yeah. She could be the one. “I’m guessing I’ll have to work hard to earn that trust.”
“And maybe not even then.” She dug through her packed duffle bag, a bulky nondescript thing as understated as the rest of her outfit. To his eyes, everything about her whispered at trying to be invisible. “Here’s my card with my email and the number for The Body Electric—just leave a message for Ella. If you’re really serious about this, give me a call or drop me an email that includes your contact info so we can figure out a schedule that works for both of us. Though I should warn you—as packed as my schedule is, it’s entirely possible I can’t accommodate the times you’ll be free to train.”
“I’ll make sure our schedules will mesh...” He looked down at the card. “Ms. Little.”
“Ella, please. And you are...?”
“Nate da Luca. Call me Nate.”
“Call me when you’re ready.” And before he could offer a hand she was through the doors, while his hand inexplicably tingled at the lost opportunity to touch hers.
Chapter Two
“Could somebody please tell me why Mother Nature is being such a bitch?”
Ella glanced up from her weekly worksheet as Phoebe Deene, the forty-something manager of The Body Electric, stomped up to the horseshoe-shaped reception desk. Ella had never met anyone quite like Phoebe, a former bodybuilder who looked like she bench-pressed forklifts, and possessed a business savvy that could teach barracudas how to be cold-blooded. Aside from Jacob, there wasn’t a person Ella admired more.
She grimaced at the snow dusting Phoebe’s coat and neon-blue spiked hair. “Looks like March is going out like a lion, which seems strange