“So I’m trying to bulk up, but without…”
Kim Castillo tried not to strangle her client. He was a middle-aged bodybuilder, a man who’d spent thousands on personal training, and who was currently doing nothing more than asking her advice. It wasn’t his fault that she felt as though she was about to crawl out of her own skin. He was droning on about different supplements, shifting into poses to show off his progress.
Can you say midlife crisis? He was a jerk, but he paid well, and damn it, she couldn’t stop looking. Not just at his impressive pectorals, but at the guy doing squats a few feet away. There was an adolescent in the corner who had really nice calf muscles, and even the old guy near the cardio machines had broad shoulders. Old, young, athlete, or not—if the body was male, she was looking. And that made her absolutely insane.
That was her. Miss Ogle-the-Weight-Lifters.
It’s a medical condition, she reminded herself. There were fancy words for it, even a chart with hormone levels and the like, but it all boiled down to two words: super horny. Yup. That was her: twenty-four years old and suddenly a female horndog.
She ground her back teeth, trying to force herself to focus on her client. Besides, there was nothing new out there for her to see. She was no stranger to the male form. She’d practically grown up in various gyms around Chicagoland, she’d aced all her anatomy classes, and then she’d become a personal trainer while building a pro racquetball career. She knew bodies—male and female. And yet for some reason, completely out of the blue, she abruptly couldn’t stop staring at them.
“Kim? Kim, what do you think? Can you see a difference?” Frank Johnson struck another bodybuilder pose, flexing his pecs and bunching his abs. At some point, he’d pulled off his shirt just so he could show off for her. And damn it, he was impressive for a middle-aged guy with a wife, a mortgage, and three kids.
“Very nice,” she said, unable to keep the throaty purr from her voice. Where the hell had that come from? “But you need to put on your shirt. We’ve got a policy on that, and I am the manager here.”
“Oh. Right,” he said as he took his time getting dressed again. “Um, hey, I know you have brochures and stuff on the supplements the club recommends. Do you mind if we go grab a few?”
She blinked. “No problem. I’m sure Danni can—”
“But I want to go over them with you.” He flashed her a charming smile. “Do you mind? I’d really appreciate it.”
She blinked. It was against the rules to take a member upstairs to the office suite. The club was open until eleven, but the office suite closed at seven and it was now after nine. As manager here, she had to stick to the rules. “Tell you what, I’ll grab what we have and bring them down while you shower.”
He rubbed a hand over his head and looked rather charming, with the way his pecs bunched as he did it. “Come on, Kim. You’ve known me for years. I just want to talk to you about them.”
She looked at Frank, feeling jittery and lustful all at once. God, she was sick. She just wanted to get home so she could climb the walls there. But then her business mind kicked in. Yes, Frank was a jerk, but one who paid very well. And—bonus—if she made nice with him now, she could probably get him to sign up for the elite training and sports massage package. Sales were sluggish; her job here at John’s Fitness depended on that promotion going well. And all of that—the forms and the brochures—were upstairs.
“We just have to make it quick,” she said with a smile. “Follow me.” She breathed a sigh of relief as they left the main weight room. Her eyes had been roving so much, she’d given herself a headache.
Frank kept talking as she led him up the stairs. Kim tuned him out, her mind already churning over ways to blow off steam. Maybe a sauna. Her knee injury meant she couldn’t exercise except for yoga, and frankly, turning herself into a pretzel hadn’t worked for her.
She unlocked the door to the office suite, flipping on the light as she went to the bank of filing cabinets. Beyond her were the offices—hers included—completely dark at this late hour. Frank was following a step behind her, gabbing all the way. But at his first pause for breath, she went into her sales pitch.
“You know about the spa attached to the club, right? Pamper Me Spa. Have you thought about our new fitness massage package? It’s perfect for elite athletes like— Ump!”
Suddenly, Frank had shoved her up against the filing cabinet so hard the breath was knocked from her lungs. Then before she could do more than gasp, he had flattened himself along her back. His hands turned into tentacles, groping her everywhere while his erection started shoving rhythmically against her butt.
She couldn’t believe how fast it happened. One second, elite athletics, the next—pinned. “Frank! Stop!”
“Yeah, baby, show me how you like it,” he groaned in her ear.
WTF? Fury pounded in her ears, and she started to move on reflex. She slammed backward with her elbow and stomped hard with one foot. But she was flattened, and worse, he had about a hundred pounds on her. She had little leverage and he was just too damned big.
She was just gathering breath for a really good scream when suddenly, the bastard was off her. She barely registered an umph of sound before she was staggering backward, abruptly free of the asshole.
She stumbled then caught herself, her knee suddenly blossoming in pain. She ignored it. Spinning around, she watched in stunned surprise as…