In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1) (5 page)

“I guess I’m used
to it.” She kindly engaged with me, instead of pointing out the
lameness of my comment. “I’m from Florida.”

“What part?”

“Vero Beach.
Mid-Atlantic.”

“Do you like it
there?” Now she pressed against my shoulder, twisting my thigh
across my body, a deep hip stretch. Just what I needed.

“So many questions.”
She smiled at me, her light brown eyes teasing and amused. Damn she
was gorgeous, in such a simple, understated way. “How about I get
to ask you some?”

That made me tense up.
I didn’t like questions. I didn’t mind the spotlight, so long as
it focused on my swimming performance. Personal investigations? No
thank you.

“We’re going to be
spending a lot of time together over the next four weeks,” she
persisted. “It only seems fair.”

“What do you want to
know?” I didn’t mean to, but I nearly snarled at her. I was
pretty accustomed to fencing myself off.

“Where’d you grow
up?”

“Outside Boston.”
Honestly, I was surprised she didn’t know that. I figured she’d
read a few profiles of me before getting this job. But maybe she was
one of the few who kept her nose out of the press? Another reason to
like her.

“Do you like it
there?”

“It’s been a long
time since I’ve lived there.” I’d basically moved out when I’d
gone to Stanford, then lived in Arizona to train after graduation. My
parents had split when I was around 14, a real banner year in my
life. I’d nearly died drowning after a boating accident. Plus, all
the yelling.

“Do you miss it?”
She turned me around, chest facing the floor, then kneeled on the
backs of my thighs and grabbed my wrists to give me a shoulder
stretch. As small as she was compared to me, she was impressively
athletic, strong and flexible. She and I could really have some fun
together.

Torso up, exhaling into
the stretch, I answered honestly. “Sometimes. But I don’t think
about it much.”

“Is your family still
there?”

“Yes.” Funny, when
she said family I pictured my friends, Liam, Jax and Ian. The ones
I’d been with through hell and back. It had been too long since
we’d all gotten together.

“Do you miss them?”

“Yup.” I didn’t
explain my answer. I’d made my peace with my parents, but we’d
never been that close anyway. As for explaining anything else? Too
complicated.

It was time to turn the
tables. After she eased me down, I looked at her with a gleam in my
eye.

“Have you gone for
your run, yet?”

“No, I slept until
eight. I’m such a slacker.” There was that smile from her again.
Was she teasing me for getting up early? So sassy.

“Why don’t you lie
back?” I suggested. “I’ll stretch you.” OK, I hadn’t
intended that with a double meaning. I’d really meant I could
stretch her hamstring for her. But now that I’d mentioned it…

“No, that’s fine,
you’d don’t have to.” She looked away, flushing. Seemed like
her mind had gone the dirty route as well. Interesting.

“Have you already
stretched?”

“No, but—”

“I can’t have my
favorite physical therapist hitting a trail and pulling a hamstring.
Where would that leave me?”

She cracked a smile.
“So, this is really all about you, then?”

“Or you could think
of all the little children out there rooting for me. Where will they
be if I don’t even medal in Rio? All because my therapist didn’t
take proper care of herself.”

“Fine.” She rolled
her eyes a bit, but I could tell she found it funny. Score one for
me. She studiously avoided making eye contact while I stretched her.
I’d done it a hundred times, with male and female teammates.
Athletes grew accustomed to touching, squeezing and prodding, all
with little-to-no clothing.

But I could tell we
were both intensely aware of our intimacy as I pressed and pulled, my
hands along her supple and lithe limbs. As I drew my hand along her
hip, I saw her intake of breath. My stroke along her thigh made her
tense before she relaxed into the stretch.

I knew my gaze darkened
as I discovered I could practically fold her leg right up her torso.
She was really flexible. That opened up so many opportunities,
inspired such creativity. Had I thought I had a day of training ahead
of me? Wouldn’t it be better to blow off some steam right here in
the hotel room?

She was out of my suite
before I even knew what had happened.

“Thanks!” she
called out over her shoulder as she bolted.

Huh. I didn’t think
I’d crossed any lines, in any obvious way at least. Maybe she was a
mind reader. Running a hand through my hair, I resigned myself to
Plan A. There were gold medals hanging in the balance, after all.
Better to stick to my training regimen and play it safe.

§

“Which flavor
smoothie do you want? Berry? Or peanut butter and chocolate?”

“Who is this calling
me at this late hour?”

Her teasing made me
smile. Not that many people teased me. I was too revered, too feared
for that. But Emma liked doing it, in her gentle, sweet manner. I’d
only known her three days and I already found myself craving her
presence. Which led me to do dorky things like call her right after
I’d said good night to her after our evening session.

“I’m going to make
us smoothies tomorrow morning. I need to take your order.”

We fell into an easy
banter, her telling me that I was trying to fatten her up, me
assuring her I liked her just the way she was. It was easier to talk
to her when I wasn’t so close, looking at her slim hips and long
legs, her breasts the perfect size to cup in my hands. On the phone,
sitting on the couch, I could relax more.

“Are you seeing
anyone?” See what kinds of questions rolled out of my mouth once I
relaxed? Maybe it was better if I stayed tense.

She paused, then
answered slowly. “No…why do you ask?”

Because I’m only
narrowly avoiding violating all kinds of professional standards of
conduct. I thought that. But instead, like all people without a good
answer, I skirted around the question. “When’s the last time you
were serious with someone?”

I could hear her blow
out an exhale. Was that a heavy question? I really didn’t have so
much experience with this get-to-know-you phase with a woman.

“I’m not sure you
need to know the dating history of your physical therapist.” She
didn’t answer my question, but I could hear a light, teasing warmth
in her voice. I still had her engaged.

“Are we on a
need-to-know basis? I hadn’t realized this was a secret ops
military thing.”

She laughed and I could
picture her doing it, maybe looking down as she held the phone to her
ear.

“I don’t know you
all that well.” The more she hesitated, the more I wanted to know.
What was her story? Had she just broken up with someone?

“I think this is how
people get to know each other.” I sounded light. I hoped I did at
least. This wasn’t the kind of thing I did every day, making
overtures, extending myself.

“All right. But you
need to tell me all about yourself, too,” she warned.

“Agreed.”

She started in, giving
me the basic run down, the brief, fly-by version of her unsuccessful
dating history: two cheaters and a straight-up swindler. Apparently
her most recent boyfriend—over ten months ago—had been a real
hustler, borrowing money from her all the time, always with an
explanation, a compelling story about how things were on the upswing.

“I was such an
idiot,” she summed it up.

“Sounds like he was
the idiot.” I hated the idea of some asshole taking advantage of
her. I could picture the kind of smooth-talking guy she described. He
could stand a swift punch to the jaw.

“I’ve got a real
knack for picking them,” she admitted, going on to tell me about
how her first love and then her second had interpreted the word
monogamy much differently than her. I didn’t like it, not one bit,
hearing about her getting cheated on. Or hearing about her having
fallen for anyone else.

“My best friend Tori
says I need to toughen up,” she continued. “Stop being such a
sucker.”

“Maybe you just need
to date the right guy?”

The silence between us
as we sat on the phone spoke volumes. What was I saying, exactly? Was
I volunteering for that role? Was I even the good guy I thought I
was? I didn’t exactly have the perfect dating history myself.

As if on cue, she
asked, “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope,” I answered
honestly. My relentless training schedule didn’t leave a lot of
time for much of anything else, never mind a romantic relationship.
My solo status had contributed to my reputation in the press for
being a driven, cold machine. And it wasn’t just reporters who
labeled me that way. What was it my last girlfriend had called me? Oh
yes, that’s right.

“I have to be
honest,” I said with a sigh, wondering why exactly I felt the need.
“I don’t have the best track record. The last woman I dated broke
up with me by throwing a bunch of dishes around my kitchen and
calling me a robot.”

“Nice,” she
commented. I couldn’t tell from her neutral tone which side she was
on. But I pushed forward, airing my dirty laundry. I guess I figured
it was better to get it all out in the open.

“I don’t know if I
deserved the broken dishes, but the robot part?” I shrugged my
shoulders, sitting on the couch. “She had a point. I train every
day, all day.”

“That doesn’t leave
a lot of room for dating.” Now she sounded more sympathetic. I
guess honesty had its benefits.

“I’ve always dated
the pool,” I confessed. “And I’m not into three-ways.”

She laughed again, soft
and light.

“I don’t share.”
My voice came out low and gravelly, and again, we fell into silence,
this time a heated one. I mulled over my choices, what I could say
next. I knew I should take the conversation into a polite, clear
goodnight. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to take the conversation
from phone to in-person to not so much talking at all.

“Would you—” I
started inviting her back over to my suite at the same moment she
said, “Guess I should be heading to bed.”

“Right!” I covered
my ass. I hadn’t just been about to say something wildly
inappropriate. Something that might make her run in the other
direction instead of stay on as my physical therapist for the next
month.

“What were you going
to say?” she asked.

“Would you like a
berry smoothie tomorrow?” Quick thinking. I had a feeling she
didn’t totally buy it.

“You don’t have to,
Chase. But, yes, I do like berry smoothies.”

“Berry it is.”

Sitting there off the
phone I kept thinking of her. What did she sleep in? A little T-shirt
and shorts? Just a tank top and panties? It was hot in San Antonio.
Maybe she wasn’t big on air conditioning. Maybe she had the window
cracked for a breeze in the hot night and wore a whole lot of
nothing.

It wasn’t fair. She’d
seen me nearly naked. She got to touch me all over. I’d gotten to
touch her hamstring. I’d liked it, but it was like getting just a
taste of an amazing meal. It only made you want more.

She devoted herself to
helping others, figuring out their needs and tending to them. Did
anyone do that for her? What made her tick? I wanted to find out.

But I didn’t exactly
know how to go about it. I wasn’t kidding when I’d told her I’d
dated the pool. I’d never had time to devote to a girlfriend. In my
early twenties, one too many relationships I’d thought were causal
had escalated, at least on the woman’s side, and blown up in my
face. I’d learned my lesson. It was far easier to fly solo in
pursuit of my golden goal.

Despite what the
tabloids said, depicting me and some of my teammates as the bad boys
of swimming, I didn’t enjoy hurting people. I mostly just devoted
myself to my sport. I’d spent a lot more nights alone than I had
with company.

Right now was a hell of
a time to rock the boat. Any coach worth his salt would tell me,
“don’t try anything new before a major competition.” And what
was more major than the Olympics? That was as big as it got for a
swimmer. Emma was right. Better to keep this simple.

I remembered the
dish-throwing episode. I didn’t want any more of that. How could I
honestly even be thinking about starting something a month before the
biggest, most intense competition of my life? A casual hook up, sure,
that would make sense. A night of fun, blowing off steam.

But that wasn’t me.
And for some reason I just knew, that wasn’t Emma, either.
Something in her seemed both fragile and still, like a bird,
watchful, curious, observant. I wanted to get as close as I could and
find out more about her, but it would take time and patience.

The thing was, I didn’t
have time, not right now. And I certainly didn’t need anything
messy or complicated in my life. So over the next month, I’d just
get to know her better in a professional colleague-type capacity,
athlete and therapist. No big deal.

At least that was what
I told myself.

Emma

The next day I saw him
swim.

I hadn’t really
planned on it. I woke up early, so I decided to go for a walk before
meeting him at his room at nine. My entire body buzzed with
anticipation. I tried to tell myself it was just that I was excited
about this assignment, on my way to the Olympics, scooping Chase.

But it was the man,
himself. I loved being around him. Of all the problems I’d expected
to run into, I was completely unprepared for that.

I’d heard that Chase
was cold, so focused and driven and intense he bordered on inhuman.
I’d wondered how I could make him notice me, get on his radar and
then gain his confidence and trust. But the man I’d met seemed to
genuinely want to get to know me. He’d even offered to make me a
smoothie of my choice.