Damn. Had I missed him? I went back to Studio Three, just to make sure I hadn’t missed him, but he wasn’t there. I rubbed the tip of my nose and wondered what to do.
Before I could decide, Rio turned around. His smile started at his eyes and slowly stretched to his lips. Lips that I had the urge to know intimately.
Reminding myself that it was Barry I wanted, I opened the door and walked in. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His blue eyes seemed especially bright, like he was happy to see me.
I tried to remember the last time someone looked at me like that. Blank. “Um, I’m stopping by.”
“I can see that.”
“You asked me to, remember?”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I remember.”
I mentally groaned. How much more inane could I get? It was his fault; he wore another loose tank top and I could see his nipple from the side. Had he no shame?
I cleared my throat. “So I’m here.”
“Yes, I can see.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a large cupboard.
My mouth went dry at the way his biceps bulged. Not obscenely like a hardcore bodybuilder, or the guy at the reception desk, but lean with intricately woven ropes of muscles.
“Did you come to check out the gym?” He asked it like he knew the gym wasn’t what I had interest in checking out.
“No. Actually, I came to see you.”
His smile bloomed again.
God, I wished I had a bottle of water. “But it’s a nice gym.”
“Thank you.”
“Um, you’re welcome.” I pretended to look around the room, but really, I was trying not to fidget under his amused gaze. “So how did you get into boxing?”
“My dad. He loves boxing.” He unwrapped one of the wrist wraps wound around his hand and began meticulously rolling it. “And then I continued in the Navy.”
“You were in the Navy?” Mental wince. No way would my parents
ever
condone a military guy. All the other strikes against Rio were incidental compared to this one. Not that it mattered. I was here for Barry. Really.
“Yeah. Only four years active.” He shrugged. “I liked it, but it wasn’t what I wanted to spend my life doing.”
“What do you want to spend your life doing?”
“I want to make a difference. Who doesn’t?” he asked with a self-deprecating smile. “That’s why I started—”
“Mena? What are you doing here?” Barry walked into the room, a frown wrinkling his brow. “Are you here to see me?”
“You?” I tried to smile coquettishly, even though I was jumping up and down inside because my plan was back in action. “No. I came to see Rio.”
“Rio?” His frown turned to a scowl as he looked back and forth between me and his friend.
Yes
. It was working.
“Are you thinking of taking up boxing?” he asked disbelievingly.
“God, no.” I’d suck at boxing, only because it had rules like no hitting below the belt. What was the point if you couldn’t hit wherever you wanted to? “Actually, I came to see if he wanted to go out for a beer.”
“
Rio?
”
I batted my lashes and hoped I looked innocent. “You don’t mind, do you?”
He stared at me suspiciously.
Okay, maybe I’d gone a little overboard. I backpedaled. “You know, because if you mind—”
“No.” But his scowl remained. “I don’t mind.”
“Great.” Only I could tell he did. I didn’t have to fake my pleased smile. I turned back to Rio. “Are you free tonight? I know it’s short notice.”
“I had some paperwork to get done.” He gazed at Barry, looking for God knows what. But whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because he faced me and said, “But beer with you beats going over the books. Give me a couple of minutes and I’m all yours.”
There was a world of meaning underneath his casually spoken words, and I just about dissolved into a warm puddle at his feet. But I valiantly kept it together, telling myself to remember the plan, and flashed him what I hoped was a modest Mona Lisa smile.
Barry cleared his throat. “Listen, I have to go.”
I shrugged like I didn’t care. Inside I was jumping up and down like an excited child. He sounded pissed. It was working. As I watched him leave, I wanted to clap my hands in delight. In a week he’d be mine again, no doubt about it.
Chapter Ten
“This man’s idea of black tie is a dirty shoelace. Definitely not into formality.”
—Bannister (on MacGyver),
“The Enemy Within” Episode #15
I turned to Rio and smiled wide and happy. “Hi.”
He chuckled. “Give me a second to change.”
“Sure.”
He flashed me another brilliant smile and strode out of the room, his bag in hand, toward what I supposed was the locker rooms.
Things couldn’t have turned out more perfectly. Barry was probably clutching his steering wheel, seething, right now.
Okay, I admit it, it didn’t hurt that Rio was hot. Scorching if you wanted to get specific. It wasn’t a hardship to go out with him.
Wincing, I dropped a mat on the floor and sat down. That didn’t sound nice. I wouldn’t like it if someone used me like a piece of meat; why would I expect Rio to be any different? Though he had playboy written all over him. He was probably using me as much as I was using him.
Too bad he wasn’t the kind of guy I could take home to my parents. Despite his clean-cut hair, he looked wild and barely tamed. Not the respectable, socially conscious son-in-law they wanted. But if I was looking to take home someone who looked like he’d pin me to a wall and devour me (shiver), this man was the one. Although I doubted my parents would appreciate that quality like I did.
Besides, sexual attraction did not make a soulmate. And I doubted we’d be compatible beyond in bed. A guy like Rio couldn’t possibly keep me interested, because after the sex wore out, what would we have to talk about?
“Hey.”
I looked up to find him leaning in the doorway, watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. “Are you meditating?”
“Every chance I get,” I said as I got up and put the mat back.
He stepped aside to let me pass. I sniffed appreciatively. Nice. Real nice. So nice I wished I’d paid attention to what he smelled like before he took a shower. How a guy smells when he’s sweaty is important. You wouldn’t want a guy with stinky sweat grunting over you in bed. At least, I wouldn’t.
He walked me down the hall to the reception area, close but respectful of my space. I kind of wished he would have put his hand on the small of my back, but he didn’t.
Pout.
The hulk manning the reception desk smiled at us. “You out of here, Rio?”
“Yeah. Are you okay to close up tonight?”
“No problem.” He glanced at me inquisitively before returning his gaze to Rio. “Have fun.”
Rio nodded and held the door open for me.
Surprising. Somehow I didn’t expect him to be gentlemanly. “Thanks.”
“There’s a quiet bar close by. Do you want to follow me or would you like to drive over together?”
“I’ll follow you.” Not because I was scared he’d try something, but because it seemed more convenient when it was time to go home. He didn’t know it, but despite his obvious strength I could break him like a twig if I wanted to.
Another reason I wanted to follow him was I needed a few minutes alone to figure out my strategy. Being with Rio was distracting. I seemed to be losing focus of my goals. So I needed to firm them in my mind. Once I was safely alone in my car, I made a quick mental list:
1.
Find out when Rio hangs out with Barry
2.
Get myself invited
3.
Find out location (in case #2 doesn’t happen)
Piece of cake.
I idled, waiting for him to drive around. When I saw his car, I gasped. I would have jumped out and swarmed it right then and there, but he was already crawling toward the intersection so I put my car into gear and followed. He wasn’t kidding; it seemed like two minutes had passed before we were parking.
The second I pulled into the space, I unlatched my seatbelt and hopped out of the car.
“You have a Shelby Mustang!” I exclaimed, circling the beauty that was his vehicle. “ ’67 GT 500?”
“Yeah.” He climbed out, grinning. “You like cars?”
“Are you kidding?” I shot him a quick, incredulous glance before returning my gaze to the vision in front of me.
It
was
a vision. Gleaming silver with thick black racing stripes down the middle, it looked like a predator on wheels. I’d never seen one this pristine outside of a movie. Maybe he’d let me ride in it one day. Asking to drive it was too forward, even for me.
“This has to be one of the most beautiful cars ever made,” I said reverently. The Mustang I’d resuscitated back when I was in high school was a ’69 coupe, but in no way did it compare to Rio’s.
“You can touch it if you want.”
I blinked at him. “Really?”
He chuckled, leaning against the driver side door. “I don’t think she’ll mind.”
I shook my head. If it were my car, no one would be allowed near it. Ever. But since he said it was okay, I touched the left front fender. With one finger.
Warm under my fingertip, like it was flesh and blood. Emboldened, I laid my palm on it and caressed the passenger side. “What kind of engine?”
“A Ford 427.”
“Beautiful,” I murmured. I felt his stare on me and I looked up to find him studying me. The ever present amusement was in his eyes but there was something else too—something deep and complicated and searching. And I wasn’t comfortable with the surge of feeling it aroused in me.
I flushed, ducked my head, and dropped my hand. “It’s a nice car.”
“Thanks.” He tipped his head. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” I fell into step beside him. After a moment of silence, I asked, “Do you know what would happen if Microsoft manufactured cars?”
Rio glanced at me sideways. “What would happen?”
“Your car would crash twice a day for no reason.”
He laughed. “And the airbags would ask ‘are you sure?’ before deploying.”
I blinked. Did he just not only get my joke but laugh at it?
And
make an excellent comeback?
Weirded out, I didn’t realize where we’d arrived until he stopped and motioned to a dimly lit doorway. “It’s right here.”
I stared at the black door. “Are you sure?”
“Come on.” He took my elbow and my heart stopped.
It was the barest pressure, but I felt it spread up my arm, down my spine to my toes and back. Twice. Hell, my nipples stood at attention. That was talent.
As soon as I got over that sensation (why couldn’t Barry’s touch affect my nipples this way?), I noticed the interior of the bar.
I blinked. The floor was shiny (not sticky at all), it didn’t reek of stale beer, and the upholstery was leather, not new but definitely not ratty. Nice.
Instead of taking me over to one of the booths in the back, he escorted me to the well-lit bar.
I admit it, I was a bit taken aback. Why didn’t I rate a dark booth? As I hopped onto a bar stool, I wondered if guys just didn’t see me as that type of woman. I was beginning to have major doubts about myself. I knew I wasn’t angelic like Daphne, but I didn’t think I was that bad either.
Maybe I was. Look at Ian—he brought two of his friends so he wouldn’t have to be alone with me. Jeremy wouldn’t come closer to me than an Internet connection. And Johnny only wanted to get me in bed but, if Barry was right, he’d be way disappointed.
I gazed at Rio. Had I misread him? Was this a friendly thing? It had to be. Otherwise he would have sat next to me in the dark booth in the back and tried to feel me up.
I looked down at my boobs. Not that I had much in that department; Daphne got it all. Greedy, I tell you.
It got me to thinking: Why did he want to see me again? I doubted he had a shortage of women to go out with. Why me? I only wanted to know because I needed to make sure he asked me out again.
That was my story, anyway, and I was sticking to it.
So I decided to subtly weasel the answer out of him. I could be sly. He’d never know what I was after.
I turned in my seat to face him and said, “Why did you want me to stop by the gym?”
I know—the subtlety of a brick.
Rio apparently wasn’t one for beating around the bush either. He ran his fingers over his super-short crew cut, already dry from his shower, and said, “I felt like I had to secure a way to see you again or I’d never see you. And that seemed—” he frowned “—unbearable.”
He looked as puzzled as I felt. I waited for my intuition to scream
creep
, but there was just placid silence. In fact, except for the discomfort of the acute sexual attraction, I felt supremely at ease with him. Not to mention that if not seeing me was unbearable, he’d be sure to ask me out again. That thought caused a ripple of excitement. Directly related to getting Barry back, I told myself.
“Hmm.” What else could I say? That’s great? I feel the same way? Let’s go rent a hotel room?
Focus. I was here to get back together with Barry. Rio was just a means.
I gave him a sidelong glance. If only I could clean him up and take him to the party. But even if I could disguise his sexuality (ha!), there was the fact that he worked as a boxing instructor at a gym. My parents wouldn’t see him as living up to his potential. And he drove a gas-guzzler. Granted, it was a gas-guzzler that showed great taste and class (even Dad would drool over it). Still.
Pout. It would have been fun. But Barry was the only feasible option.
I sighed, deep and long.
“That was quite a sigh.” Rio signaled the bartender.
“It’s been a long day.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
Tempting, but I didn’t think he’d take well to my plans. At the moment, I wasn’t sure how I felt about my plans myself. So I said, “It’s nothing that a beer won’t cure,” realizing too late how I sounded like a lush.
He didn’t notice. Or he was too kind to comment. “What would you like?”
“A pale ale, please.”
Rio ordered my beer and a Hefeweisen for himself. The bartender poured them while we watched in silence.
I picked up my glass as soon as he set it in front of me. Sipping slowly, I tried to center myself, but it was hard since guilt was starting to settle in. Maybe Matt was right and I
was
temporarily insane. I should have come up with an excuse to bale out on this date.
Hell, I didn’t even know if it was a date. What made a date? Food and drink? Food and kissing?
I glanced at his lips. What would they feel like? Not like mushy triceps, that’s for sure.
“Is your beer okay?”
I looked up to find Rio watching me, concern wrinkling his forehead. I tried to smile reassuringly. “It’s great.” Then I realized I hadn’t had a sip lately, so I took one quickly.
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Good.”
“Is your beer okay?” I asked, just to be equitable.
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
I winced. “I’m being a moron, aren’t I?”
“Not at all. I think it’s cute.”
I groaned. “Bunnies are cute.”
“Then what are you?”
“Fierce,” I said without thought. Then I thought of MacGyver and added, “And resourceful.”
He held up his pint. “To using everything at your disposal.”
I blinked and then clinked my glass against his. “That’s a fighter’s principle.”
“What is?” he asked as he took a sip.
I waved my hand toward him. “Using everything at your disposal. You aren’t a fighter.”
“I’m a boxer,” he said with a small frown.
“Yeah, but that’s not really fighting.” The second it came out, I knew I’d put my foot in my mouth. I didn’t even need to see the way his forehead furrowed. “Wait. That’s not what I meant. I know you’re a boxer, but boxing has rules. You can’t even knee the groin in boxing.”
He winced. “Damn good thing too.”
“So you can’t very well use everything around you.”
“Sure you can.”
“No, you can’t.”
He sighed. “I don’t deny there are rules in boxing, but that doesn’t mean you don’t use everything you can to your advantage. Boxing is as much strategy as it is brute strength.”
I snorted before I could help myself.
His eyes narrowed. “How much do you know about fighting?”
“A little.” Slight understatement. I was a fighting goddess.
“How much is a little?” he asked suspiciously.
Enjoying myself, I shrugged and took a casual sip of my beer. “I’ve studied Kung Fu here and there.”
He leaned close and said, “Fight me.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Fight me,” he repeated. “Come by the gym sometime and work out with me.”