Loving Mr. July (5 page)

“True.” Sharon considered both layouts again.
“But I don’t want to veer too far away from our base. Can we afford
to run both?”

Cynthia narrowed her eyes and pursed her
lips.

Sharon raised a hand. “Hear me out. I think
the barn ad will appeal to our older crowd. And they’ve been our
base customers for many years with all the bus tours, so I don’t
want to ignore them. I’m thinking we run that ad in their markets,
like in Palm Springs, maybe Sun City. But I still want to pull in
more of the local, hipper, interior designers. And I think the
first comp with a few tweaks would catch their eye.”

“That’s a good point.” Cynthia nodded. “See,
you’re absorbing more of the marketing stuff you claim to hate than
you think.”

Sharon stuck her tongue out at Cynthia.

Cynthia just laughed. “I’ll crunch the
numbers and let you know.”

She took a quick peek at her watch and
sighed. “I’ve got to go. Supposed to go make sure Kurt gets to the
gym tonight. At this rate, I’ll barely be moving by tomorrow.”

~ ~ ~

Kurt lounged on his deck chair, beer in hand,
half observing the beach scene below him, half thinking about his
morning run. It must be close to six p.m. now, he figured, and he
probably should get ready to hit the gym, but the sun warming his
skin made him feel lazy. A few minutes of snoozing wouldn’t hurt.
He put the beer on the table and shut his eyes.

He was rudely awakened by a poke.

“I don’t think this is part of Carl’s dietary
plan.”

Eyes groggy, Kurt looked up to see Cynthia
holding his beer. He swung his legs to the deck, sat up, and
squinted at her. “What happened to carb loading?”

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “You’re not running
a marathon, Kurt. And this is going to go straight to your gut. No
more beer.” She poured it into a potted plant.

“That’s sacrilege, you know.”

“I do.”

“And that plant will probably die now.”

“Probably.”

“I can see how much you care.” Kurt rubbed at
his eyes. “What time is it anyway?”

“Way past time that we were supposed to be at
the gym.” Cynthia took a seat opposite him. “I was ringing the
doorbell until Lucky went nuts. How could you possibly have slept
through that?”

Kurt shrugged. “Vaguely heard something, but
the sun was making me lazy. And after the week I’ve had, I was a
little wiped out.”

“We could skip the gym if you’re too
tired.”

Kurt studied her face. She was trying to look
indifferent. It wasn’t working. And he wasn’t ready to let her off
that easily yet. “We can skip the photo shoot. Your call.”

Cynthia’s mouth compressed into a thin line.
“I’m here on time, dressed for working out. You’re out here working
on your tan.”

Kurt let his gaze travel away from her face
to take in the rest of her body. Tonight’s getup was blindingly
pink, and also looked rather new. The top dipped low enough to
reveal a rather amazing cleavage. He wondered why he’d never
noticed it before.

He was going to have to buy her some
t-shirts. A guy could only take so much.

“Don’t need a fancy outfit to go get sweaty.”
He located his discarded t-shirt, stood up, stretched, slipped it
on and held out hand.

He noticed the hesitation before she put her
hand in his, where it barely covered his palm. He pulled her up,
held on longer than necessary, used his thumb to idly caress.

She lifted her head to briefly look him in
the eye, a startled look on her face, before she tugged at her
hand.

So she wasn’t completely unaffected by him,
he realized with some satisfaction. He turned inside, so she
wouldn’t see the slight smile come to his face. “Give me five to
grab my shoes.”

The young receptionist gave Kurt a huge smile
and held her hand out for his membership card when they walked into
the gym. Cynthia turned to Kurt, raised an eyebrow. What, was she
invisible?

“Hi Tiffany,” Kurt said. “I believe Cynthia
was first.”

Flustered, the girl turned to Cynthia,
quickly taking her card and swiping it without a word, then went
back to fawning over Kurt.

Cynthia waited while Kurt exchanged brief
pleasantries with the girl, admiring how adept he was at
maintaining just the right level of friendliness—not too flirty,
not too standoffish.

“You always get that kind of reception?”
Cynthia asked, falling in step with Kurt as he walked toward the
locker rooms.

Kurt shrugged. “I come here a lot.”

Cynthia laughed. “Yeah, well so do I.
Probably not as much as you, but enough.”

“And your point?”

“Just interesting to see how differently the
beautiful people live.”

Kurt stopped walking to stare at her.
“Beautiful people?”

“Oh c’mon, Kurt. You can’t not realize what
affect your looks have on women.” Cynthia tugged at his arm to get
him moving again.

Kurt looked at her for a long moment before
he resumed walking. “I’d like to think I treat people well.”

“And it seems as though you do.” Cynthia
inclined her head in agreement. With the exception of me, she
thought. But then again, she was just the workout buddy. And don’t
forget cook. “But even so, it doesn’t account for all the
attention. What does that feel like, anyway?”

Kurt furrowed his brow, looked discomfited,
and apparently didn’t have a ready answer.

Cynthia smiled to herself, motioned to the
locker room doors. “Meet you upstairs?”

She didn’t wait for his answer, even though
she had voiced true curiosity. It was somehow enough that she’d
flapped his typically confident feathers.

In the crowded women’s locker room, she
stopped to chat with friends, took her time changing.

By the time she reached the top of the stairs
leading into the main workout room, at least thirty minutes had
passed. Maybe Kurt would be mostly done with his workout. One could
hope.

Then again, maybe not, Cynthia thought. Kurt
stood near the top of the stairs, arms crossed, toe tapping.

After catching her eye, he looked pointedly
at his watch.

Cynthia walked up to him, gave him a sweet
smile. “Is there a reason you’re not working on those abs?”

Kurt’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenched a
little. “Is my workout buddy
ready
?”

Cynthia frowned. “We’re working out
independently, right? Just like the run this morning?”

Kurt blew out a breath. “Well, let me think
about it. Seeing how well that worked out…No.” He said the last
word with some emphasis.

Cynthia knew she should be happy, or proud,
or whatever, seeing as by the looks she was getting from other
women in the gym, she was the object of some envy. But when Kurt
walked up to the free weight racks and grabbed a couple of
dumbbells, she was wishing some other victim had Kurt’s
attention.

She eyed his 80-pound dumbbells with more
than a little trepidation. “Am I supposed to roll those around on
the floor? Because that’s about all I will be able to manage.”

One of the guys working out nearby snickered.
Cynthia turned a brilliant smile on him. Kurt gave him a look meant
to silence. Kurt’s approach worked better than Cynthia’s. The guy
moved away.

“You, my
dear
buddy, can pick any
dumbbells you wish to use.” Kurt walked down the line to the
smaller sets and picked up one-pound dumbbells with his index
fingers. “Do these suit?” He held them out to her with an elaborate
bow.

Some skinny, hard-body women nearby started
snickering. Kurt gave them a winning smile. Cynthia scowled at
them. Kurt’s approach still worked better, as they whispered to
each other and laughed some more. Life just wasn’t fair.

Her pride at stake now, Cynthia marched past
the women and grabbed 15-pound dumbbells. She brought them over to
where Kurt stood.

“Let’s get this workout over with,
Sweetie.”

She said it loud enough for the women to
hear, emphasizing the endearment. Only Kurt could see the sarcastic
grimace that accompanied her words. Maybe if she embarrassed him,
he would give up this working out together idea, and she could go
down to the spa and get a massage instead.

“Now that’s the spirit,” Kurt said, his eyes
taking on a gleam. Before she could react, he bent over, gave her a
noisy kiss on the mouth and then whispered into her ear. “If you
haven’t worked out lately, those are going to feel like they are
about ninety pounds by the time we’re done tonight. Want to
reconsider?”

She gulped, shook her head—tried to wrap her
mind around what just happened.

Kurt gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “Let’s
start then.”

Cynthia glanced at Kurt. He looked completely
unperturbed. She was standing here with the taste of his lips still
on hers, wanting more and he moved to arm curls without a blink?
Cynthia narrowed her eyes. So that little display apparently was
his way of upping the game? Well two could play.

With each heft of weight, Cynthia considered
how much worse she could make Carl’s recipes taste. By the time she
struggled to lift the weights for count number three, she
contemplated adding laxatives.

Kurt walked over to the weight racks and
picked up five-pound dumbbells. Without a word, he exchanged
Cynthia’s fifteen pounders for the smaller weights.

Okay, the laxatives were a bit much, Cynthia
decided, grateful to be able to at least lift the smaller dumbbells
past her navel. As she swung it in a wild arc, Kurt ducked.

“You trying to kill someone?” Kurt put down
his own weights and walked over to still her arm.

“I thought you said do arm curls.” Cynthia
took a deep breath. The woodsy scent of Kurt’s cologne smelled
delicious.

“Which do not involve winding up like a
propeller.” Kurt brought her arm parallel to her body. “The idea is
to target specific muscles with each exercise. Keep the upper part
of your arm pinned to your body. Just lift the weight from where
you have it now until your forearm is at a right angle to your
upper arm.”

Cynthia let him hold her arm in place, bend
her elbow, and move her hand to demonstrate the motion. His hands
were cool, a little roughened, his touch light. She stared at the
curly blond hairs on his muscle-corded and surprisingly tanned arm.
She took a deep breath.

“Don’t look down. Look in the mirror.” Kurt
let go of her arm to tilt her head up with his fingertips.

“Do I have to? I’m not real fond of
mirrors.”

“You won’t know if you are using proper form
unless you check it.” Kurt gently turned her so she could see
better. “That’s why they have mirrors.”

“I thought they were so that the muscle-bound
guys could admire themselves.”

Kurt grinned. “Most likely some of that going
on too.”

Cynthia forced herself to look in the mirror,
concentrating only on her arm and trying not to look at the rest of
body. She duplicated the action Kurt had shown her. “It’s a lot
harder this way.”

“Good. Means you’re doing it properly,” Kurt
grunted, and resumed his own workout. “The idea is to not stop long
between sets. That way you’ll get an aerobic workout too.”

“I thought we did that this morning,” Cynthia
said, watching Kurt do some dumbbell fly exercises before getting
her own bench and copying his movements.

“I ran. You were too busy admiring Sam’s
stomach to get very far.” Kurt let the dumbbell fall to the ground
and took a breath.

“He was voted best abs for his year.” Cynthia
skipped every other number in her exercise counting, but Kurt
didn’t seem to notice.

Kurt scowled, picked up the weights from the
floor, and rolled back on to the bench to begin a dumbbell press
routine. “Which he apparently had months to achieve.”

“Just saying.” Cynthia switched to dumbbell
press lifts as well. “So why are we doing all these arm exercises
when it’s your stomach that worries you?”

“We’ll get to the abs, just working out our
chest muscles right now.” Kurt glanced over at her during a
breather. “Or I am. Not sure what you’re doing. Praying to the
weight gods maybe?”

Cynthia quickly lifted the weights off her
chest where she had been resting them and resumed. “Isn’t there a
more efficient way to do this? Seems like we’re spending forever
with these dumbbells. I won’t be able to move my arms
tomorrow.”

Kurt swung his legs to the floor and stared
at her. “I thought you said you come to this gym. What exactly do
you do here?”

“Swim a little. Use the treadmill and stuff.”
She waved her hand in the general direction of the aerobic
machines. Get facials and massages, use the sauna, she thought. It
was called a spa, wasn’t it?

“Ah.” Kurt rolled back onto the bench.

“Ah what?” Cynthia sat up, started to
bristle. He was going to make some comment about her weight, she
just knew it.

“Explains why you haven’t a clue about what
you’re doing with the weights.”

“Oh.” She slumped, the fight disappearing.
“Yeah, well. This area has always intimidated me. It’s either full
of guys grunting or women that have more muscles than you do.”

Kurt turned to her at that. Scowled a little.
“Way to boost my ego.”

“Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration.” Make
that a huge exaggeration, she thought. The guy had some serious
muscles. Who knew? And if he had a donut, she had yet to find it.
“But you get the picture.”

“Think maybe you’re being a little sensitive?
My mom comes here, lifts weights. And she’s what, double your
age?”

“And your point?”

“If she can do it, you have no excuse.” Kurt
nodded, motioning her along to the weight machines.

Cynthia eyed the long row of machines with
dismay. “Maybe I just don’t like it.”