Where the hell was she? Late was not Valentina’s style. I’d never gotten here before her. She only lived ten minutes away—less, even—and she’d texted she was on her way over thirty minutes ago.

Before I went caveman and actually called to make sure she was all right, I caught the swing of her long hair as she trudged through the front of the weight room like some kind of drill sergeant. She dropped her bag on the bench without looking up. That stung a bit—she always looked for me in her awkward, subtle way. But not today.

I staked more plates on the leg press and watched her through the mirrors.

She flung shit left and right, looking for God only knew what. Miss OCD, who had a place for every damn thing, slinging shit around and mumbling to herself? That couldn’t be good.

She stood up to twist and yank her hair back in a sexy, messy half-bun, yet kept her eyes on the ground. Something was definitely up. And I didn’t do flight—she’d tell me what the hell was goin’ on one way or another, because that mindset was an injury waiting to happen.

Her demeanor may have had nothing to do with me, because she’d been amazing all week, but on the off chance it did, I needed to know what was up. We’d crossed a boundary the night of her work party. One I wasn’t one hundred percent sure she was cool with and if that was the case, she needed to own it. My problem—I’d had a taste of her. Jesus Christ, for the past week I’d get a flash of her coming for me and fuck me . . . if it wasn’t the most sensual, gorgeous sight I’d ever seen. I wanted her moans as my fucking ringtone. Locked up tight under all that armor was a loving, sexual woman dying to be unleashed. Since I damn well planned to be the one to let her loose, I had to know where her head was at.

I whistled loud, turning most of the heads in the gym.

Valentina immediately looked up and turned to me with a grimace.

I raised a hand and motioned her over to me with a finger.

She narrowed her eyes and marched over. Fucking marched!

“What’s up, baby. Everything all right?” I put two more forty-five pound plates on top of the leg press.

“No.” She bit out, then looked at the rack. “Twenty-eight plates?”

“What? You see me do this all the time.”

“And it makes me nervous every time you do it. That’s over twelve hundred pounds.”

Dodge. Nice try, though. “So . . . what happened?”

She shrugged and fiddled with her wrist straps. “I was rearranging the office and lost track of time.”

“Stop messing with your office, babe. I have the kids this weekend and I’ll start next Monday. You said you wanted to get everything tomorrow, right? You won’t have room to do shit once I get it all in there. Don’t waste your time.”

Ignoring me, she jerked the straps over her hands, looked between them, huffed, and ripped them off again, leaving red scratch marks on her porcelain skin. “Damn things! Three fucking advanced degrees and I can’t figure out how to thread a shitty strap.”

Wow. Fucking and shitty. Oh yeah, not a good day.

I took her wrists in mine to pull off the straps and she jerked away, locking her fingers around the material so I couldn’t remove them.

“What’s wrong, hon?”

“Nothing, other than I’m late.” Her hands trembled and she kept her eyes on the floor.

I held onto the straps, keeping her with me. “Not buyin’ it. Try again.”

She looked up at me with steel behind those gorgeous green eyes that dominated my fucking fantasies. Granted, in the fantasies they were usually gazing up at me while she was on her knees with my cock in her mouth, but a saint I was not. Something inside me wanted to push her past the tough, put-together exterior she clung to. Maybe because now, I’d experienced the sensual woman hiding underneath . . . all in good time. Right now, she was lying to me. “What happened?”

“Jaxx, you question me all the damn time! I’m late. I’m grouchy because I’m late,” she snapped, glancing back down at her hands.

I gently pulled her closer to me and her eyes darted around the gym to see if anyone was looking at us.

I didn’t give a fuck—let ‘em look. “If I didn’t give a shit, I wouldn’t ask. If it’s a bad day, say it. I’ll leave it, but don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?”

She yanked on her wrists so hard I let them go afraid I’d hurt her. “I—it’s not a good day.” She spun around, head shaking back and forth, intending to walk away.

I leaned against the rack and dropped my voice. “Hey, stop for a second.”

Her head dropped and she whirled back around, hands on her hips. “What now?”

Oh, fuck no. “Get over here, Sparky.” Goddamned feisty woman, but she was not lifting with that attitude. She didn’t have to tell me what’s up, but she did need to calm the hell down.

“What? Speak?!” She stood there, glaring up at me. When she was vulnerable, there was something heartbreaking about it to me, so I usually loved when she got riled, but right now, something deeper was going on. Valentina wasn’t moody or argumentative. There wasn’t a bitchy bone in her smokin’ hot body. She wasn’t one of those women who started fights just to start them. I knew her well enough by now to at least know that.

“If you don’t get over here, I’ll throw your fine ass over my shoulder and walk out of the gym until you calm the fuck down. You’re gonna pull something with the mindset you got goin’. Decide.” I didn’t move, but she sure as shit did. So she clearly knew not to call my bluff.

When she stood about two feet from me, I reached out to her. After a few seconds of staring at me, she put her hand in mine and I led her closer. “You’re not the arguing type, babe, so you’re doin’ distance.” I dropped my voice so only she could hear. “Is there something else going on I’m not aware of, or did I fuck up last Saturday? You can tell me. I can take it.”

A small frown marred her lips as her free hand flew to the top of her chest. She moved a step closer to me. Her eyes met mine, and all the angst bled right out of her. In its place was a worried look I hated to see. She was a people-pleaser at heart, to everyone except herself. “It’s not you, Jaxx. I’m sorry. It’s not you or last Saturday at all.”

“Don’t apologize. I can handle grumpy, but you feel like letting me in on what the hell happened between your text and you walking in here like a goddamned special ops soldier, all direct action and shit?” I ran soft circles over the pulse in her wrist with my thumb.

A small grin tugged at her mouth. “Work call right after I texted you.”

“And?”

She let out a long breath. “And . . . they want me to fly to New York for our annual conference. They green lighted the line I pitched at the party, but they want me to present it.”

It was then I noticed the hand on her chest shaking. This was good news, but fuck all if she wasn’t Casper-the-motherfucking-Ghost white, and strung tight as a goddamn top. “Jesus, that was fast. Congratulations. So what’s the problem?” Because I was fuckin’ lost.

Her eyes opened wide and her voice came out at least an octave higher than normal. “I have to fly to New York in June. Alexis, Annie’s daughter, my goddaughter, is turning sixteen, so Annie can’t go. Annie always goes. I can’t take Chris and Kyle. I can’t—I don’t . . . fly well.”

Lots of people didn’t fly well, but they also didn’t have physical reactions to it. Her hand shook in mine, and I finally caught the fuck on. Fear—she was scared. But this was work-related. Something she’d worked hard to make happen.

“I’m sure Annie and Alexis will understand. She can take video or Facetime you. Something this big work-wise trumps birthdays. I don’t know Annie, but I’d think she’d agree. Or is it something else?”

She glanced up at me, and a hint of pink stained her cheeks. “You don’t get it. I haven’t missed anything for those kids since they’ve been born.”

“Babe, I do get it. I’ve got kids, remember, but this is fuckin’ career changing. Annie will understand. Trust me on this one. I’m sure Alexis loves you and all, but teenagers ..? Friends come before family in the party department. Get her a bitchin’ gift, she’ll be solid.”

“Again, that’s not the point. I know Annie will make me go.”

Make me? The fuck . . .

“Then what’s the point?”

She shook her head hard and backed up a step. “You saw me on Saturday. And that was here, with coworkers I mostly know. Multiply that times a hundred and put me in front of a sea full of people—strangers. I don’t do public forums. I don’t know who’s watch—I—”

“Have you had to speak in front of an audience for work before?” She must be afraid of public speaking. But this had to be the worst fuckin’ case I’d ever seen . . . she was breaking my heart here. Shit.

“I have, but on a much smaller scale. Nothing of this magnitude. Not something where I don’t know who’s— Not this big.”

I studied her face, and with my thumb on her pulse, noticed it had double-timed. “Is it a fear of crowds? Public speaking?”

“You could say that.” Her eyes darted everywhere but at me.

“I did say that. What would you say?”

“Jaxx . . . ” She took another step back, but kept a tight grip on my hand. She seemed to think about what to say, which pissed me off, but if I wanted her to be comfortable with me, I had to give her space.

Finally, she met my eyes. “You said if it I didn’t want to talk about something, you’d respect it as long as I didn’t lie to you. No, I don’t like to fly, but most people I know don’t either—it’s not that. It’s more a fear of crowds’ . . . thing. That’s the truth, but I can’t go into it.”

“Fair enough.” I pulled her closer again and let go of her hand to pull off her wrist straps. “I understand, but you still have almost five months. Let it go for now.” I switched the straps. “You had them on the opposite wrists. Focus in here, hon, because I have to bail out after this. I don’t need you hyperextending shit when I’m not here to play superhero.” I began lacing the straps over her wrist.

“I know. That’s all I need, right?” A sad smile graced her mouth.

I squeezed her hand before letting go and sitting down on the stool to wrap my knees. I held the wraps out to her. “You all right now?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She took the bands.

I pulled out my phone and cued up the music. “Switch.” I handed her the phone and began wrapping one knee. “Concentrate, babe. I’m serious.” I glanced up at her and the expression on her face . . . I bit back the laugh.

She stared down at my phone, mouth agape, and flipped the screen toward me. Her head swiveled back and forth between the phone, the leg press and at last on me. “Taylor Swift? Taylor Swift! When you’re about to put up over 1200 pounds?! This is not your lifting music.”

I took the phone from her and stood up. “Don’t hate on Swifty.”

“Swifty?!” Her head jerked back and a ridiculous smile slashed across her face. “Oh. My. God. We need to have a serious conversation about your workout music,” she scoffed.

“Don’t hate. Jessa knows her shit. Now go away and let me get goin’ here. You’ve already made me late.” I winked at her.

She dropped her head back to look up at the ceiling, grunted, and turned to walk back to her station. “You’re a total nut-job. Get some real music,” she threw over her shoulder.

“I heard that,” I said, as I got settled under the leg press.

“Good!” She pivoted back to me and nodded at the press. “Be careful, Superman. You get in trouble with that load, and I don’t think little Miss Swift has the power to help you out.”

“Ah, love you too, sweetness. Thanks for caring. Call you tonight?”

“Dinner with my parents. Call me after eight.” She spun back around, waved a hand over her head, and chuckled back to her bench.

At least she’d got her head straight and was ready to get down to business. Job done.