Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
He couldn’t help but feel a little glad on a personal level too. Because if she started hanging out with his sisters, maybe they’d put in a good word for him. His sisters might tease him, but they knew him better than anyone else, and they knew he’d never deliberately hurt anyone, least of all a woman living in his home to do a job.
Tessa was still waiting for an answer, so he shook his head. “I’ll manage getting into my workout gear just fine.” With that, he took his crutches and maneuvered as well as he could into his bedroom to change.
He dug out a pair of red shorts and took his time slipping them over his cast. When he got back to the living area, he found Tessa on her hands and knees, unrolling his green yoga mat. She had set out varying pairs of free weights in neat rows and two resistance bands.
She hadn’t noticed him, which allowed him to observe her luscious backside for a moment.
It was a great moment, even if he did feel a little bad for drooling over her when she wasn’t looking. Then again, he was just looking. Not touching, no matter how desperate he was to do just that. No, he wouldn’t dare touch her in a sensual way unless she told him she wanted it too.
When she stood, she went to the fireplace where one of his favorite paintings hung. He’d started collecting art when he signed his first big Hollywood contract. He loved to find unusual pieces and support up-and-coming artists.
Tessa stood still, gazing up at the piece in wonder. It depicted swaths of blue water the artist had captured in motion, bubbling and rippling, the suggestion of a shimmering body swimming beneath all that blue. Tessa didn’t give it a cursory glance, as most of the people who came here did. Instead, she stepped closer, then away, giving the painting her full attention.
“It’s a Lawles,” he said to Tessa’s back. “She had a small solo show in LA last year, and I fell in love with this piece.”
She turned, clearly surprised to find him back in the room already. “Kalinda Lawles, yes, I know her work. I love how photorealistic all her work is,” Tessa said dreamily. “At the same time, there’s something so free, almost abstract, about the brushstrokes.” She continued to gaze at the painting in awe, before adding, “I don’t know how she does it.”
Arch was impressed. “I don’t know many people who would have recognized her name, let alone known so much about her work.” Eager to get to know this fascinating woman better, he added, “You must really like art.”
But instead of getting into a subject they were both clearly passionate about, she laughed off his comment and told him to come to the mat.
He obeyed, happy to get closer to her. But as she settled him on his back to begin a mobility warm-up, he found he couldn’t concentrate on her instructions. He was too aware of her—her pretty floral scent, her seemingly delicate but strong wrists as she gently took hold of his good leg. And then he noticed a smudge of green on her thumbnail. Nail polish she hadn’t managed to completely remove? But she didn’t strike him as a woman who had weekly manicures—not like Mila, whose nails were always polished. She always said she kept them that way so she could picture herself signing the biggest real estate deals in Carmel with beautiful hands.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to force his concentration on the workout, not on Tessa. Keep his focus on the exercises. Build up his strength. Make it on set in ten weeks for what was sure to be a blockbuster action movie.
Tessa helped him circle his ankles, open his hips, stretch his spine. He was torn between enjoying every minute of her touch and the pain in his leg.
Then she started him on straight leg raises with the injured leg, staying close by to spot him.
“Is it aching?” she asked, reading his mind.
He opened his eyes and found her own trained on his. She blinked and then looked away. “A little,” he confessed. “But this is helping.”
“Let’s move to your upper body,” she suggested, choosing a medium-sized pair of dumbbells. “Before you say anything, I’m sure you can press more than this, but let’s start light, okay? Your body has been through a trauma, and it’s normal to take time to get back to your usual strength.”
He accepted the weights from her outstretched hands and tentatively began chest flies. Without a word, she shifted position so that she could spot him. He relaxed as she counted his reps in a calm, soothing tone, hovering behind his head.
His gaze naturally rested on her white T-shirt, and he wondered if she knew what a pleasant view he had. It helped to keep his mind off of the ache in his leg. “Your top is nice,” he said, bringing the weights back to his pecs.