ONE OF THE BEST things in the world about being a writer is the ability to ignore your alarm clock ninety-percent of the time.

Not that I do. I’m up most mornings at seven and off to the gym. But, after emergency margarita night, seven a.m. might as well have been yesterday. There was nothing in the world that made me feel better than a nice, hard workout. Except maybe hitting a deadline and turning a book in. But, physically, I was a gym addict. I’m not a fitness nut, but I like to move. It gets my creative juices flowing, lets me justify having a job that sometimes means fourteen-hour days on my butt, and allows for the emergency chocolate and Margaritas that every girl caves to.

So, it wasn't odd to see those raised eyebrows from the girls behind the counter as I flashed my badge in front of the infrared scanner just before lunch. By this time on a Monday I'd typically be home, showered, and sitting in front of my computer typing away on the next great adventure of the undead and those who love them.

“Is Shawn in?”

“Rough weekend?” Kim pulled out the trainers' calendar and flipped through.

“You have no idea.” Because, even I couldn’t make this up.

“Oh,” she gave me a look that could only be called conspiratorial. “I think I can imagine.”

I started to laugh it off, but then thought about the look she gave me. “What?”

“Well, if I was dating Mr. Baseball, I don't think I'd be getting out of bed...well, ever.” She dropped the book open to Shawn's page and highlighted the rest of the hour. “Of course, that's assuming I could keep him in the bed. If not, then, yeah. Maybe I'd be here.”

I wasn't ready for this. I knew it was coming and I knew I'd be dealing with it sooner rather than later, but I didn't expect it to start at one place I considered a refuge. Even Jenna and Kasey weren't part of my gym. This was the place you came to put on your headphones and block the world out. The last thing I needed was the world joining me here.

“Oh. Yeah.” Lame response Hailey.

“How'd you meet him?”

I was relieved Connor and I had discussed these things. I'd thought we could put it off, but obviously I was wrong. People were far nosier than I anticipated.

“Our agents set us up.”

I was getting good at the truths that are a lie thing.

“Wow.” For the first time in my four years going there, she looked impressed. “I need an agent.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say, You can have mine, but I figured that was pushing my luck.

“I'm sure there's at least one who comes in here. Or, maybe one of those matchmakers.” Wait. What was I saying? "Kim, every time I come in here a guy is hitting on you. You’re gorgeous. I doubt you need any help meeting men.”

“Yeah. Guys. But no one of the Connor Ryan caliber.”

“Maybe you should get a job over at the Athletes Center.” Because then I wouldn’t have to be having this conversation. “I think a lot of them work out there.”

She actually wrote that down on a sticky. As if it were a secret. Or that easy.

I avoided opening my mouth again for fear that this time I'd tell her she could have Connor too.

“Shawn had a cancellation. It's not a whole hour, but if you want to slip in now, I won't charge you. I mean, it's only half an hour.” Kim smiled at me like there was something special going on.

With how small advances were, I wasn't going to stop and question my good fortune. But, I was curious if this was that celebrity thing. Would she be telling people, Oh, Connor Ryan's girlfriend works out here. You can make an appointment with her trainer if he's free?

My shoulders tightened up just as I should have been stretching them out. I loved my gym and didn't mind if there was a way that helped them. But after working out here for years, I also didn't want to become Connor Ryan's Girlfriend.

One of the best things about the gym was the small trainer spaces. Weights. Bands. Pads. A mirror. That was it. I rolled out my mat and started stretching.

“Hey kid.” Shawn called everybody kid.

I asked him once if he knew my name and he just slapped me on the back and told me I was funny.

“I hear you need to work off some stress. That new boyfriend driving you crazy already?”

“You saw whatever there was to see wherever it was too?” Did Dex and Catherine take out a billboard I didn’t know about?

“No. Kim told me on my way in.”

“Great. Fine.”

Shawn laughed. He had one of those full-gut laughs you expected to come out of overweight guys with lots of gold chains and slicked back hair. Or Santa Claus.

“Let's get some of that aggression out. Are you warmed up?”

I'd jogged to the gym and stretched, so, with only thirty-minutes to go, I wasn't giving up any of my time.

“Yup.”

“Great. Pull on your gloves.”

Oh, Shawn. You know just what a girl wants to hear.

I rolled my mat up and stowed it in the corner with my bag. I'd hoped he was going to be up for a little sparring as I really—really—needed to beat the snot out of something. I pulled off my yoga pants, comfortable in the little room in a pair of Lycra shorts and a loose tank over my sports bra.

I leaned over, doubling in half for one last stretch as I untied my shoes and pulled them off before tugging on my gloves.

He pulled on a set of sparring pads and started working me through a fast, hard round of pound-the-snot-out-of-A-Certain-Someone.

Every hit took out some of my frustration at the stupid situation I should have just walked away from. At myself for not walking. At the apology I owed Connor and would have to give. And at every single person who wanted a photo or an autograph for the next however many days we managed to pull this off.

And, especially at Kasey and her less than subtle implications that I was upset because I had feelings for Connor.

I ran the back of my arm across my forehead swiping at the sweat before it hit my eyes.

“There you go, killer. You're moving up in the world.” Shawn pulled off his gloves and grabbed a stopwatch. “Let's check your pulse.”

I counted while he timed and wasn’t surprised how jacked my heart rate was.

“I wonder who you were thinking about as you beat the crap out of him.”

I spun around. That voice wasn't supposed to be here. This was my happy place. My decompression zone. Connor was the last person I wanted walking in. And yet, there he was, leaning against the doorframe, just out of view of the mirrors. I'd been so focused I'm not sure I would have noticed him anyway.

“Connor.” It was sad, and he probably liked it, but I practically panted his name. Of course, I was panting it because of thirty-minutes of hardcore cardio—unlike the majority of women who couldn't breathe when they made an attempt at those two syllables.

He grinned, watching me as I shifted, uncomfortable with his presence. “I had no idea you were such a bad ass.” Slowly, his gaze shifted toward Shawn. “Hey, man. I'm Connor.”

“I know.” Shawn gave him one of those guy head-nod things. “One of the suits I train has season tickets but travels three weeks out of a month. It's a good way to get a tip.”

Connor laughed and the two of them started talking baseball and training and injuries and I realized there was no reason for me to continue standing there feeling pretty much naked in the tiny amount of clothing I was wearing.

I rolled out my mat in the corner and swigged a couple swallows of water before grabbing my yoga pants. As I pulled them on, I caught a glimpse in the mirror of Connor staring at my rear end. I could only assume that was for Shawn's benefit. With a deep sigh and an even deeper yearning to be alone, I headed for my mat, collapsing into a few stretches.

“I'll let you cool her down.” Shawn offered Connor his hand, and then waved as he deserted me.

The door fell shut behind him and I had no idea what to say.

I avoided Connor’s gaze and stretched for my toes. I shouldn't have been surprised when he settled on the floor next to me.

“You're pretty hardcore with those little fists of yours.” His tone was light but I wasn’t fooled. “I had no idea you were so...”

Angry? Crazy? Prone to imagining the demise of those who tempted me?

“Athletic.”

My head came up as he finished. Athletic?

“I'm not athletic.” I tried to shake off the compliment, but he was still smiling at me. “I just like to keep in shape.”

Anywhere outside the gym and I was off balance, but for some reason, the gym felt like a place I could relax my body awareness.

“Right. That's why you're pure muscle under those curves.” His gaze went right down my body, heating it. He probably had a patent on that move too.

I pulled my legs up and sat cross-legged looking at him. I wasn’t going to be swayed from dealing with yesterday based on a smarmy look and a sweet smile.

“Why are you here, Connor?”

That sounded rude. I meant it more as a question, but the inability to breathe yet made it sound shorter than I meant.

I didn't mean it that way, but all morning I'd been trying to work up the nerve to call him and apologize and now here he was.

And I was panicked.

“I wanted to talk about yesterday.”

He scooted back until his back was against the wall, legs crossed in front of him.

I waited hoping he'd say something that would give me an open for my apology. But, I couldn't figure out where he'd head.

“Catherine’s assistant said you’d be here if you weren’t at home or The Brew.” He glanced around the small training area, a look of appreciation for the space none of my other friends would have had. But, it also felt purposeful. Like he was stalling. “Hailey, I owe you an apology and after I realized that I didn't want to wait.”

This was...unexpected.

“That first day we met," he continued, studying the edge of my mat as his finger flicked at the corner. “I was rude. You didn't catch me at my best. I'd gotten more bad news from Dex and his entire message that morning was basically, Get your ass to this address where I will fix everything for you again. I shouldn't have told you I wouldn't be caught dead with you or that you were...”

“Beneath you?”

“I don't think that's quite what I said, but I know that's how it came across.” He finally looked at me. He looked tired. Almost as tired as I felt. “The truth is none of that was true. I don't think you’re ugly or beneath me. I don't even know how I started dating all these women. If you saw a picture of my college girlfriend, she's…well, she's not that tall and she's definitely not ridiculously skinny. She was just really cute in a completely sexy kind of way.”

I was having a rough time believing that. But the look on his face, the one a person got when they were remembering something long ago, far away, and very happy convinced me I was wrong.

“She was…well, you guys would have gotten along, that’s for sure.”

He looked my way, as though trying to gauge me. But, I wasn't sure what my part of this conversation was. He'd kept talking through so many points that I was afraid to interrupt and now I didn't know what I was supposed to say first.

“The thing is," he kept going. “Yesterday, when you called me a dumb jock, that really—” His gaze shifted away as he struggled with the next words.

If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was going to say I'd hurt his feelings.

“Connor, stop. I'm sorry. I feel horrible about the things I said to you. I don't even want to worry about the whole type thing.” At all. Not from my side or his. I wanted to keep things even and fun and friendly. The best thing we could do was get back on track. “I doubt I’ll be what your fans expect, but I can’t worry about that either. No matter what, I shouldn't have implied that you're dumb. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair.”

“Thanks.” He still wouldn’t meet my eye.

“No. Really. You’ve done nothing but show me how smart you are every time you have to handle people. To even insinuate anything else was mean and unfair.”

He glanced away again, giving me one of those guy-nods that I hoped meant he accepted my apology.

I pushed myself back to sit next to him against the wall.

“And, I don't sleep with all those girls. Most of the time, we meet somewhere, go to an event and then I drop her off at home. I'm not saying I'm a saint. I sure wasn't during my rookie years. Being young and stupid, plus making a lot of money and being a starter on a pro-team, equals women throwing themselves at you. Then somehow it became part of the package.”

“And, since your job is to catch things, you had that down, right?”

He grinned even as he looked embarrassed. “Let's just never talk numbers beyond my batting average.”

I don't know why, but I believed him. Oh, he’d probably been a bad boy. Now, he was just a bad boy who'd become more discriminating. Women were still throwing themselves at him. I'd bet he was just pickier which ones he caught and how often.

I sat there, not sure what to say, but glad that was over. On both sides.

“So, what'd you do last night?” I asked trying to move past it.

“I went to my brother’s, got drunk, and whined about you. It's like we're really dating.” He grinned at me, that slick grin that always made me laugh.

“Great. Since we're so involved you can take me to lunch.”

I stood up, stretching my arms above my head, a little bummed I was passing on my forty minutes on the elliptical. His gaze dropped to my stomach as it peeped out from below my tank—and then yanked back up again.

The boy really had too many hormones if he was looking at half-an-inch of skin on me.

“Give me ten minutes to shower and throw my clothes on.”

“Ten means forty, right?”

“No. Ten means ten, maybe eleven.”

“Alright. But if I'm standing out there for more than twelve minutes, we're going to Sports on Tap for lunch.” He leaned against the wall looking smug.

“Deal.”

That was the safest bet I'd been involved in all week.