Extreme Love Page 4

  “I have a few.”

  Needing to put some distance between them, she moved into the supply closet and collected a platform and risers. Dante entered the small space behind her. It felt as if he’d sucked all the air from the room and replaced it with his heavenly, clean scent. She tried to ignore the smell, but God help her, it was impossible. Standing ramrod straight, she turned and faced him.

  Immediately, she wished she hadn’t.

  His massive body filled the door frame, his broad shoulders blocking her only means of escape. With him towering over her, she couldn’t fight the desire she tried so hard to suppress. She ached to run her fingers over the thick, black lines of the tribal tattoo that decorated his exposed bicep, then trail down the tight, black workout top clinging to his chest. She clenched the equipment to her suddenly heavy breasts.

  “Here, let me take that.” Dante smiled, then took her step and risers and strode away. Stunned, she stood there staring after him. Slowly, she came out of the closet to find he’d set up her step right beside his.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t want to work out beside him, but going to the back of the room as she had intended would be rude. She could move it back, though.

  After she reached her step, she bent and moved it back about two feet. When she straightened, Dante had a brow quirked at her.

  She tried for a polite smile. “I like to keep the area to my left and right clear.”

  Which was the partial truth—she always staggered her step so no one was on either side of her, but in this case, the idea of working out beside him terrified the crap out of her. At least this way she was behind him and he wouldn’t have a clear view to her every move, or any jiggles she didn’t want him to see. Because nothing on this man jiggled.

  “I can get that. I hate running beside someone on the treadmill.”

  A bubble of amusement filled her chest, stunning her, and she busied herself with her step, making sure the equipment was locked into the risers.

  Cindy, the bubbly brunette session leader, walked in. “Sorry I’m late, guys. I had a long night.”

  Within minutes, upbeat music bounced around the room and the class started to move in unison. As the class progressed, Cait tried to focus on Cindy, but the mirrors surrounding the room were too much of a temptation to resist. She glanced at Dante’s reflection.

  Ah, hell. She shouldn’t have done that. The mirror gave her an amazing view, although the reality would be ten times better.

  What would it hurt to take a quick peek? Just a simple little glimpse, for curiosity’s sake?

  She stole a glance.

  Oh, dear God.

  No man should be allowed to look so good. Sweat glistened on his smooth, tanned skin, giving him an oiled godlike appearance. Not an ounce of fat resided on the man’s entire body. Each tendon and muscle flexed with every movement. Completely mesmerized, she couldn’t drag her eyes away.

  As she crossed the top of her step, she caught his gaze in the mirror. He winked with a crooked grin on his lips. Her stomach flipped and she landed on the side of the step, stumbling. Heat flamed her face.

  “You okay, Cait?” Cindy asked.

  Could she die now? Please?

  She nodded to the instructor and spent the rest of class avoiding the gaze of the man whose presence bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

  After class, she put the equipment away and stood to the side, waiting for Amy to finish talking with Dante and Brad. When all three headed her way, she sighed.

  “Cait, I’ve invited Dante and Brad over to our place to watch a movie tonight. We’re talking takeout. Is there anything you’re interested in?”

  “Uh.” She cleared her throat, scrambling to find an out. The idea of being trapped in a room with Dante and all the unwanted desire he brought to life inside her terrified her. “Yeah…see, I-I’ve already got plans tonight.”

  Dante huffed out a breath as if she’d disappointed him. Unnerved by his reaction, Cait kept her attention on Amy.

  “Really? You didn’t mention that.”

  “It just came up, actually.” She patted the side of her purse. “Text message. Already said yes, so I can’t back out.” The smile she forced felt too bright. She cleared her throat again. “You guys have fun.”

  Cait hurried from the gym without glancing back.

  Once she made it to the front of the Y, she fished her cell phone from her purse. Pressing six on her speed dial, she waited until a familiar male voice answered.

  “Hey, what’re you doing tonight?” she asked.

  …

  Dante arrived at Caitlyn’s at precisely seven.

  Caitlyn’s.

  Getting to know her was proving to be more difficult than he’d imagined. He’d thought the four of them watching a movie together would offer an opportunity to spend time with her without the pressure of being alone with him.

  Wrong.

  She’d already had plans. With whom? Amy hadn’t been any help in answering the question. She’d just muttered, “That’s weird,” as they’d watched Caitlyn stalk away.

  And he’d been disappointed, especially after catching her watching him.

  He’d seen her desire, her appreciation, her longing as their gazes met in the mirror, and fuck, if it hadn’t hit him in the gut in a very exciting way.

  He knocked.

  A few seconds later, Amy opened the door. “Hey. Come on in.”

  “Caitlyn here?”

  “It’s good to see you too, Dante. And yes, she hasn’t left yet.”

  He stepped inside. A counter was the only thing separating the small kitchen from the living room. The tiny space reminded him of his first apartment. Neutral walls, beige carpet, and white trim: typical apartment décor. The girls had brought some color into the room by using crimson curtains to cover the two windows in the living area and added red accents throughout the space. It was definitely better than the milk crates and blow-up mattress he started off with.

  Man, he didn’t miss the days of living off ramen noodles while he fought to be noticed—literally. It felt like another lifetime ago when he worked whatever part-time job he could get just to pay the bills, so he had all the time he needed to train and realize his dream. The sacrifices had paid off and he was reaping the rewards now, but he’d never forget his struggles to get here.

  He walked farther into the living room. On the far wall, a hallway led to two closed doors. Caitlyn was behind one, perhaps changing. Just not for him.

  “Who’s she going out with?” he asked.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. She’s been tight-lipped about her plans.”

  Dante sighed. He didn’t like that she had plans. Another man would only complicate his attempt to get to know her better.

  “Go and sit. Brad should be here in a minute.” Amy hurried down the hall and into one of the bedrooms.

  He’d just made himself comfortable on the red faux-suede sofa when footsteps padded on the hallway carpet behind him. He twisted to see Caitlyn enter the room. The first thing that grabbed his attention was her baggy clothes. The black slacks had to be two sizes too big and the button-down, shapeless red blouse hung off her frame. It did nothing to flatter her figure, and damn, but she had one. He’d held those full hips in his palms, felt them sway under his hands.

  So what was up with this outfit?

  Her eyes met his and she tugged the bottom of the ugly blouse. “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  “Just getting ready to head out.” She offered an apologetic shrug and hurried past the couch. “Enjoy the movie.”

  “Caitlyn.”

  She stopped but didn’t turn. “Yeah?”

  “I’d really like for us to be friends.”

  Finally she faced him, head tilted to the side, curiosity brightening her eyes. “Why?”

  Because you excite me. But he couldn’t say that, so he shrugged. “There are not too many people I meet nowadays willing to get up in my grill after
I spout off my opinion. Mostly they just smile and nod, no matter how much they disagree. You had no issue with setting me straight. I respect that.” He paused. “I miss that. So, I thought maybe you and I could hang out some. You know, so you can keep me straight.”

  It looked like her gaze softened a touch. She opened her mouth to respond, but the doorbell chimed.

  “That’s probably Paul.” She rushed to the door.

  Paul?

  Seconds later, a tall, dark-haired man with small round glasses walked into the room. Not exactly what Dante would consider Caitlyn’s type, but the man was good-looking, in a dainty sort of way. He rose from the couch.

  “Paul, this is Dante. Dante, Paul.”

  Dante forced himself to offer his hand as Paul snaked his arm around Caitlyn’s shoulder and accepted the handshake with the other. Dante didn’t like the possessive way Paul held the woman he wanted to pursue.

  “Ready, babe? Movie starts in twenty minutes,” the other man asked. “I can’t wait to get you alone in a dark theater.”

  Dante scowled. Caitlyn gave an overly loud startled laugh and pulled away from Paul. She stumbled to a side table and picked up her purse. Dante narrowed his eyes. How well did she know this guy? She sure wasn’t acting like she was receptive to the man’s suggestions.

  “Now, Paul. Behave,” she said as she turned to face them.

  “I’m done behaving.” Paul strode up to her. “It’s time for action. Lots of action.”

  She froze and stared at the man, her mouth opening and closing. “W-what?”

  Her alarm made Dante stiffen. If she didn’t want to leave with this man, he’d throw the ass out. Her head snapped toward him, and her eyes widened as he began to rise. She grabbed Paul’s hand and ran out the door.

  Dante frowned. Could he have misread her cues? That was possible. God knows, she was a complex woman. One moment she was shy, the next her eyes blazed with indignation, the next desire. A paradox of emotions that made her all the more intriguing.

  Figuring out what made Caitlyn Moore tick was turning out to be his favorite puzzle.

  …

  When the door slammed behind her, Cait smacked Paul’s arm. “What the hell was that?”

  “Jeez, Cait, what did you expect? I’m supposed to be your date.” He linked his arm with hers and walked her toward the parking lot. “I about wet myself when he came off the couch. Let me tell you, girl, that is one fine piece of man flesh and I think you’re crazy for discouraging him.”

  “Then you take him.”

  “Gladly, but I don’t think he swings that way. But he’s exactly what I like. All man.”

  That he was. Scrumptious. Hard-bodied. Man.

  As she started down the cement steps, Paul grabbed her hand and yanked until she looked up at him. “Why don’t you give him a chance? You can’t hide behind me forever.”

  She sighed. “Because he’s not attracted to me.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He had four days to call and he didn’t. That says a lot.” She turned and made her way down the rest of the steps. “Besides, men who should be on the cover of Playgirl have never glanced my way. And there’s no reason for them to start now.”

  “You also don’t look the same as before.”

  True. Being overweight and playing the friend role to guys all her life, she tended to forget that fact sometimes. Either way, attracted or not, that didn’t take away from their one huge problem. “He’s still a fighter.”

  “So?”

  “I hate the sport.”

  “Maybe you could learn to like it?”

  “You think?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “I can’t believe people are paid to do that.”

  “I don’t know much about it, but I do know these guys take it very seriously. I heard they train about eight hours a day when a huge fight is coming up.”

  “To get beefed up and knock the crap out of someone. No thanks. Not interested.”

  “Your loss. If he even batted an eyelash at me—” he snapped his finger—“look out.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re crazy.” Her humor faded.

  Paul didn’t get it. Dante wasn’t interested. He hadn’t called. Simple as that. A man like him knew what he wanted, went after what he wanted. She couldn’t see him being hesitant in anything he did, particularly with a woman.

  Even if he were interested, her aversion to the violence he willingly engaged in turned her off. She just wished her body would agree.

  “By the way, you look like shit in that outfit.”

  She pointed at him over the hood of the car. “Don’t start.”

  He opened the driver’s side door. “What size are you now?”

  “Twelve.”

  “And what size are you wearing?”

  She rolled her eyes as she slipped into the passenger seat. “Eighteen.”

  He slid into the seat and inserted the key into the ignition. “I’m not Amy. I don’t play passive aggressive. Get ready, honey, we’re going shopping.”

  “You can’t be serious! There is no way I’m going to wear this.” Cait pulled at the tiny black skirt showing way too much of her thighs.

  Paul sat in a cushy chair, his ankle resting on his knee. “You’re no longer wearing those rags. I’ve tolerated it long enough. No more.”

  “What are you going to do? Burn my wardrobe?”

  Paul pursed his lips and arched a brow.

  Well, hell.

  “This thing barely covers my butt. I can’t wear this.”

  He shot to his feet, grabbed her by the shoulders, then turned her to face the mirror. “Look at yourself. I mean, really look at yourself. Not as you see you, but what’s actually reflecting back at you.”

  She still saw the heavy woman she had always been, but deep down she knew the size twenty-two woman no longer existed. Why couldn’t she let her go? Why did she cling to this image that held her back? It should be easy to embrace the new Caitlyn. But letting go of the past was harder than losing the weight.

  Paul turned her to face him. “I see a breathtaking woman scared to death to see how beautiful she actually is, a woman refusing to live because she has spent her entire life feeling inadequate in her appearance, a woman who has nothing to be ashamed of.”

  He whirled her around to face the mirror again. Reaching in front of her, he waved his hands in front of her breasts. Breasts now showcased in a new pushup bra and low-cut shirt. “And these. Girl, please. Women will be jealous as hell of your cleavage if you show it off.”

  She studied her reflection. She felt awkward in the getup. But if she was honest with herself, the outfit wasn’t half bad. The material fit like clothes were meant to, hugging where it accentuated her better features, and loose to hide the not-so-flattering ones. And her boobs were well displayed. What would it hurt to buy something to show herself off? She’d never let the old Cait go if she didn’t try to move forward. She wanted to move forward. It was past time to do that.

  “Fine, I’ll take the skirt.”

  …

  Where was she?

  Dante tried to concentrate on the second movie of the night, vaguely aware of some kind of mist and creatures terrorizing a small town. At the moment, though, the digital readout on the DVR clock held his attention.

  11:01.

  He’d wanted to ask Amy about Paul, but she hadn’t returned to the living room until Brad showed up, and then he had a hard time getting a word in edgewise with their lovey-dovey cooing. It was sickening, really. He did finally get to ask who Paul was between a “snugglebunny” and a “pookie.” Amy’s response calmed some of his worry at Caitlyn’s less-than-eager reception to the man’s forward advances.

  Amy’s comment—“Paul? Good Lord, why did she keep him a secret? They’ve known each other for years”—could only be taken one way: Caitlyn had known she wasn’t in any danger from this man.

  Still, it was pretty damn clear Paul wanted to t
ake things to the next step with her.

  Dante reached for the popcorn on the coffee table. He’d just popped a handful into his mouth when the door opened. The popcorn turned to dust as Caitlyn stepped over the threshold.

  Where were the damn clothes she’d left in?

  “Cait?” Amy bolted upright beside Brad, her mouth ajar.

  Caitlyn lifted her head and looked straight at Dante. His heart picked up speed until he was sure it would burst from his chest.

  She glanced away, clearing her throat. “Hey, guys, enjoying the movie?”

  No one answered. Dante jumped to his feet, offering his chair. “Why don’t you sit? You can watch it with us.” He scowled when Paul walked in behind Caitlyn.

  “No, thanks. We—uh—have something we have to do.”

  She hurried from the room with Paul right on her heels.

  What the hell was their “something-to-do”? Had the man convinced her to take their friendship to the next level? Had Dante lost any chance at solving the Caitlyn puzzle?

  That would blow. Finally, a woman had entered his life who fascinated him. After almost three years of having sex handed to him, Dante found himself revved up with Caitlyn’s detached attitude, especially after seeing she was attracted to him. Women never fought their attraction for him. Why was she?

  Damn it, he had to know if she would still be able to fight the attraction if he added a little pressure.

  But right now, there was another man in her bedroom, mostly likely applying his own pressure.

  He didn’t like that idea.

  “He’s gay.”

  “What?” Dante blinked, looking down at Amy, who cuddled into Brad’s side on the couch.

  “Gay,” she repeated. When he just stared at her, she added, “as in show tunes and Judy Garland.”

  “Oh.” That explained Caitlyn’s shocked reaction earlier, but what was up with the “get you alone” crap? Was Paul warning Dante away from Caitlyn like a brother would?

  Seemed reasonable, but it wouldn’t work, not unless Caitlyn made it abundantly clear she wasn’t interested.

  Dante sat back down, his gaze drifting to the hallway. He needed to get her alone, see how she reacted without the safety of her friends around her, see if the desire he’d witnessed in her eyes at the gym could be set free. The idea of being on the receiving end of her passion pumped him up. But with her camped out in her room with Paul, how could he manage that?