Olivia

After a scalding hot shower, a balm to my weary muscles, I feel like superwoman—strong and sexy. This is why I keep coming back. Yes, the results are motivational and I do love Jonah, but it’s the inner strength and confidence I can’t get anywhere else that keep me coming back for more.

It also helps that I love the reflection in the mirror. This new outfit rocks. The downside of losing weight is having to constantly buy new clothes until I get to my ideal weight. Okay, I’ll shut it—there is no downside to getting closer to your goal.

Gazing in the full-length mirror, I admire my most recent purchase. As I twirl around, my lips curve up into a smile at my image. The flouncy hem of my red pencil skirt swirls in parallel with the white peplum knit top like the blooming of a flower. My ensemble is figure flattering, oozing feminine charm yet also appears professional, and my strappy black high heels make the outfit complete. Yes, this will definitely do for my meeting with a prospective client. I seriously need to land this account.

As I head out, my phone buzzes with an incoming text. Glancing at it as I descend the stairs, it’s Pete, my ex. It’s his third text today asking me to dinner, tonight. With the first text, I said no. He wants to rekindle our relationship—his words—but there’s nothing to rekindle. The second text I ignored, and now, I intend to do the same.

Jonah is cleaning-up when I walk back into his home gym, wiping down the last of the equipment. His house is huge with the perfect layout to keep his home separate from his fully functional gym and yoga studio.

“Whoo-eee,” he drawls, ending with an appreciative whistle. “You’re going to work or on a hot date?”

“Work—why? Is it too much?” I ask, now doubting my fashion sense.

“Hell no!” His emphatic response settles some of my uncertainty. “It’s perfect. You look gorgeous, as usual. I’ve never seen you in that outfit before.”

“It’s new. I had to buy a few more work clothes because some of my stuff is now too big. Sin will be thrilled,” I say, stating the obvious. Since hitting Tamsin’s size, she’s been the willing recipient of my clothes that no longer fit as I move down in weight.

Sin, her rather apt nickname, is blessed with a sinfully sexy body. She has curves that she’s never had to work at—well, that’s not completely true. After having each of her four children, she did have to watch her diet and exercise for some time. She is a tall, curvy blonde with the body of a pinup model.

“The struggle is real,” Jonah ruefully remarks with a grin. “Lunch is ready, let’s eat.” My workout schedule varies daily. Once a week, we have lunch following my session and his private chef prepares a nutritious meal.

He doesn’t lunch with all his clients. In fact, I’m one of only three he ever shares a meal with, and I’m fortunate to be among his close friends. Jonah’s been in Toronto for five years and while hugely popular professionally, he’s selective with his friends.

When he traveled north, he was following his then fiancée from Nashville to Toronto. She was accepted into the National Ballet of Canada and not long after uprooting his life, leaving his family, friends, and business for her, she cheated on him with another dancer. Though devastated, he stayed to make a go of it.

Jonah met Tamsin because of his ex. Sin was a costume designer, working with the National Ballet at the time. They met at an after party and immediately hit it off, so much so that Sin became his client, and that’s saying a lot because she would rather peel off her skin than exercise.

The meal is delicious, as always. Emeline has made one of my favorites: salmon avocado maki with mango sorbet for dessert. Chewing his sushi, Jonah asks, “So who are you meeting dressed like that?”

Staring at him, I try to decipher the meaning behind his words. “A new client, hopefully. She’s opening a boutique hotel and needs an interior designer. Why?”

“She? It’s a woman?” he clarifies, running a hand through his stark white-blond hair.

“Yes,” I answer warily, not sure what he’s getting at, though I’m pretty sure I won’t like it. “Why?”

He quirks an eyebrow at my tone, a grin creeps across his face, softening his chiseled jaw. “Just curious. You’re hot and I’m wondering if I have to worry or not.” I open my mouth to object but he barrels on. “Come out with me and a few of the guys tonight. Brad will be there, I think you’ll like him. I know he’ll like you.” His eyes approvingly rove my body. “He’s a good guy.”

Shaking his silly suggestion off, I look him straight in the eye, blatantly expressing my annoyance at having this conversation again. “No, thanks. Brad’s closer to my son’s age than mine,” I hiss. “And last time I checked, I’m an adult. I don’t need you worrying or taking care of me. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Tossing the napkin on the table, I rise, not upset, just frustrated. I don’t want to go through all this again.

“Liv, don’t go. You haven’t had dessert yet,” he protests. “Millie will have my balls if you leave without having the sorbet, she knows how much you love it.”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you decided to play matchmaker for the hundredth time. J, you need to get this through your thick skull: I’m not interested. I’ll never go out with a man younger than me,” I declare. “And I’ve told you that many times, so please listen.”

“All right, all right,” he says, walking toward me with his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I just think you’re selling yourself short. Who cares about age? You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out. Any man, no matter his age, would be a fool to not want to go out with you,” he places his arms on my shoulders.

My hands wrap around his strong forearms, anchoring myself to this magnificent man who cares about me. Gazing into his loving eyes, I reply, “Thank you. I love you and appreciate you being the president of the Olivia Cassidy fan club. I’m just not ready to date, and even when I am, I’ll never date a younger man.”

Coming from a marriage where I always felt like I was lacking no matter what I did—so much so that I actually gave up for a while, faded away—I can’t imagine dating someone younger. I could never keep up.

“I’m a forty-two-year-old divorcee with two practically grown kids and a new and risky small business.” I can’t help but smile despite how freaking scary it sounds. “I’ve got enough on my plate right now. A guy is the last thing I need. What I do need is you and I want you in my corner, but you need to let me find my way.”

“Darlin’, I can do that, but I won’t stand by and let you discount yourself. You deserve the best. You’ve come so far in such a short time. You should be proud of yourself and you should celebrate,” he encourages. “Many would have bailed on life. You didn’t. I won’t let you forget that.”

I rest my forehead on his, peering into his warm eyes. Before, I never knew I needed Jonah Carson in my life; now I can’t imagine my life without him.

“Oh, sorry,” Millie gasps from the doorway. Turning, the petite ginger, Jonah’s personal chef, is flustered and beet red from head to toe. She abruptly turns, heading back the way she came.

In three long, quick strides, Jonah’s at her side. Gently placing his hand on her elbow, he halts her retreat. “Millie, it’s okay. What’s up?”

She averts her gaze, scanning the room, faltering when she lands on me. A brief but discernible flash of resentment—or something close to it—flits across her features before she looks away. With her big baby blues regarding Jonah, it’s clear as day, and it all makes sense.

She has a crush on her boss.

“I’m so sorry. I was…um, I was…checking that everything was okay,” she barely whispers, her eyes now stuck on his Adam’s apple. Her hands mangle the dishcloth and I wonder what the hell it ever did to her.

“Everything was wonderful,” I pipe up, attempting to break the tension. “I’d love to devour your sorbet, but I’ve run out of time. Besides, I don’t need the extra calories,” I add in my default, self-deprecating manner. “Thank you so much, Millie. It was truly divine. Jonah.” He turns to me. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

Walking toward me, I raise my hand to stop him. “Don’t worry, I’m swimming tomorrow,” I reassure.

I usually see him five days a week, but there are times when a celebrity client is in town, as is the case right now, then he rearranges his schedule to squeeze them in. I forfeited my time with him tomorrow so he could exercise with some Hollywood bigwig.

Like me, most of his clients are accommodating because Jonah is just that kind of guy. Despite how much agony he puts me through, I’d reshuffle my life for him.

Restarting his walk my way, he warns, “You better.”

His arms wrap around my back, pulling me in for a hug, while Millie’s visible over his shoulder. Every twitch and squirm of her body confirms my suspicion. The lovely Emeline Walton is attracted to Jonah, her narrowed eyes give away her detestation at his focus on me. I wish to end her misery, but by the look of things Jonah is oblivious. She silently scurries out of the room.

Breaking our embrace, my mouth curves into a Cheshire grin as I drawl in my best Scarlet O’Hara impersonation, “Why Mr. Carson, I do declare, I think you have a secret admirer.”

Furrowing his brow, he tilts his head to one side with a puzzled expression. “What?”

“Miss Emeline is smitten with her boss,” I playfully deliver, fiddling with the collar of his shirt while he continues to examine me in bafflement.

“Ah, you’re too transparent,” he finally says with a sly grin. “You’re playing with me. You’re trying to get me all ruffled. This is because I suggested meeting Brad, isn’t it?”

“Nope. Millie has a crush on you. You should’ve seen the daggers she was throwing my way while you hugged me, even though she didn’t completely own it.”

He laughs, batting my hand away from his shirt. “Cut it out. You’ve got no clue what you’re talking about,” he says, quickly refuting my claim. “Listen, if you change your mind about tonight, we’ll be at Swig. Text me and I’ll come get you,” he adds like the mention of Millie’s infatuation never happened.

Now it’s my turn to study him and wonder. He seems uneasy with my observation, quickly dismissing the idea and changing the subject. I’m eager to push, but if I do, I need to be prepared to get the same back in spades. I’m not in the mood, nor do I have the energy for that kind of repartee right now. I enjoy trickery and games with Jonah, but I’m not up for playing with my heart.

“Ah, trust me, I won’t change my mind,” I fire back with a big assuring smile. “But thanks for inviting me. Besides, I have the kids this week and I’m saving my empty calories for my trip to Montreal next weekend.”

“Montreal?”

“Yes. Girls weekend away. Sin, Erin, and me.” I grin, unable to conceal my delight at the prospect.

“Sin? She managed to get a weekend away from the kids?”

“Yep. It was her idea,” I volley another surprise at him. “In fact, Colin’s taking the weekend off so he can watch the kids.”

Arching his eyebrows, he does a triple shake of his head like a Looney Tunes cartoon character. Colin is a dear, but works like a fiend.

“I’ll see you later.” I wave, then wink at an awkward Millie, who has slipped back into the room.