Chapter 4

Rock arrived back home, a modern-day mansion with an Olympic-sized swimming pool. He loved living here. It was his retreat from the world. An oasis of peace that had shielded him from the pressures of his athletic career.

He plopped down on the oversized couch and leaned the crutches against the side. Then he took out his phone.

“Tommy?”

“Rock! How’s everything?” his friend and managing director for the foundation asked. “Things are coming together nicely for the fundraiser.”

“About that…there’s been a change of plans.”

Tommy swallowed and then asked, stonily, “Change of plans? What are you talking about, man?”

“I had a small accident earlier today and busted my ankle.” Rock grimaced at the memory of the impact and moved sideways to put his foot up on the couch. The throbbing decreased.

“What? You ‘busted’ your ankle? What ‘bout the race man?” Tommy’s voice spiraled into panic. He had the annoying habit of taking things too seriously.

“Calm down. Everything will be fine,” Rock said.

“Fine? Are you running, or not?”

“Doctor said no.” Rock grinned. Things never were as bad as they seemed – at least most of the time.

“Then nothing’s fine. Sponsors expect you to participate—”

“Come on. It can’t be that important. I’ll still be there, supervising and giving my name to the race.” The skin beneath his air cast itched like hell. Rock leaned over to the coffee table and grabbed a pencil to scratch inside the cast. “Besides, I have a stand-in.”

“A stand-in?” Tommy seemed to be somewhat appeased and his voice returned to its normal timbre. “How in the world did you find someone to run in your place in such a short time?”

“The gal who ran me over with her bike offered to run in my place.” Images of Vivian’s auburn hair, surrounding her beautiful face with the most intense blue eyes raised his blood temperature.

“Who is she? A well-known racing cyclist? A track star?” Tommy demanded to know.

“Her name is Vivian Armstrong.”

“Vivian Armstrong? Never heard of her. What’s she doing for a living?”

 “I don’t know.” And I don’t care. Rock had been too busy with his broken ankle and admiring her beauty to ask such mundane things. Having her name and phone number had seemed enough. He didn’t care whether she was some famous Hollywood actress or a cleaning lady. Actually he did, because he was done with actresses. Too self-centered and shallow, while Vivian…

“Are you still there?” Tommy asked into the phone.

“Yep.”

“You sure you didn’t fall on your head during the accident? You seem to have lost your fool mind. She’s a nobody. Some random girl. How can you even consider having her run in your place?”

“She offered and I thought it was cute.”

Tommy groaned into the phone. “Cute? Don’t think with your cock. This is business. We need to find a high profile name to race. Someone who’ll pull in the crowds. You know how important this fundraiser is for the foundation.”

“Yes, but…” Rock leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes.

“No buts. I’ll ask around. There must be some sports star willing to run for a good cause... or even better, what about a Hollywood actress? Someone who’ll look stunning in tight workout clothes and needs a boost to her floundering career. It would be great publicity. A win-win for both sides.” Tommy’s voice went up an octave as he talked himself into elation.

“No! We’re not going to turn the fundraiser into a media circus.” Rock opened his eyes and sat up in protest, just to grit his teeth against the stabbing pain of his ankle protesting against the sudden movement.

“Rock, you need someone to attract the masses.”

“The foundation can stand on its own merits.” The last thing Rock wanted was a bunch of celebrities drawing attention away from the men and women he was trying to help, and turning the focus on themselves.

All of his past relationships with more or less famous celebrities had turned into complete disasters. He was sick and tired of self-centered and shallow women, whose biggest concern was the length of their eyelashes.

“As your manager I have to disagree. This is our biggest fundraiser of the year, if we blow it, the planned rehab center will fall through. You know that. We aren’t even close to having the funds needed for construction.”

Rock sighed into the phone. Tommy was right. There was no way around it.

“I’ll put out my feelers and get back to you,” Tommy said.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.” Rock hung up the phone, his mood going from bad to worse. He managed to get on his feet and hobbled on his crutches into the bedroom. There he slipped a plastic bag over the cast, grimacing at the blue and purple discoloration and the swelling he could see in his toes.

He hobbled into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Instantly the vision of Vivian, crouched over him on the sidewalk, entered his mind and his body hardened in response. Beneath the shower he turned the water to cold, trying to force his body to behave. Hobbling on crutches and having a hard-on wasn’t a good look.

Ten minutes later he sank down onto the mattress, accidentally bumping his ankle against the frame of the bed and groaning as renewed pain lanced through his entire leg. ”Damn it!”

Rock hadn’t bothered to put on clothes and lay stark naked on top of his bed. As soon as the stabbing pain subsided, he mind wandered back to Vivian and he sported another hard-on. “Damn it!”

This woman had him strung tight and she didn’t even know it. He’d acted purposefully arrogant towards her. He didn’t need another irresponsible, egocentric woman in his life. Been there. Done that.

Lying around thinking of her did nothing to improve his mood and after a while the throbbing in his ankle was replaced by a growl in his stomach. Oh yes, he hadn’t eaten since a light breakfast this morning, before leaving for his run.

A deep sigh escaped him. Alexa, his housekeeper, was off for the weekend, and he’d have to fend for himself.  The crutches became his best friends and by the time he arrived in the kitchen, he grinned at the versatility he’d developed hobbling along on them.

The fridge contained neatly labeled Tupperware for each meal of the weekend. He removed the one that said “Dinner Saturday” and stuffed it into the microwave. Cooking definitely wasn’t one of his fortes, but he was a pro at reheating.

While Rock waited for his dinner, he popped two of the painkillers the nurse had obtained for him before leaving the hospital and gulped them down with a bottle of cold water.

He ate quickly, his mind occupied with Vivian. How come he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts? It wasn’t at all like him to drool over a girl. Usually they drooled over him.

Back in bed, he placed a pillow beneath his leg and turned on the television, flipping through the channels. After his third round through all channels and still nothing but old movies and bad reality TV, he switched it off and tossed the remote to the side.

“Damn it!” He wanted to see Vivian again. On a sigh, he decided he might as well call her and picked up his cell phone. The line rang once, twice… his heart sank… three times…he cursed at the stupid idea…then she picked up.

“Hello?” Her husky tone stirred his groin.

“Vivian? It’s Rock Martens.”

There was a brief silence and then she murmured, “Rock, is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I’ve got my leg elevated and am icing it as we speak.”

“Oh! Okay. Uhm…did you need something…”

“I’m calling to schedule our first training session,” Rock said.

She gasped into the phone and then she stammered, “You still want to…”

“Yes. What are you doing tomorrow morning?” There was no way he’d let her off the hook. And a successful athletic career had taught him to hit the iron while it was hot.

“Uhm…well, it’s Sunday, so nothing, I guess.” She stammered into the phone.

Sweetie, I know you’re trying to find an excuse. Not with me. “Perfect. How about nine o’clock my place?”

“Nine? Isn’t that kind of early?” Vivian asked him.

“No. Mornings are best for training if you’re serious about it.” Rock bit back the laugh that threatened to burst forth. She was such a fun target to tease and rile up. His entire body hardened at the memory of how sexy she’d looked when she was shooting daggers at him. He gave her the address and then said, “Don’t go to bed late,” before he hung up the phone with a huge grin.