Racing Toward Love: A Second Chance Romance Read online

  Dinner was wonderful. After they had dished up their respective servings and gotten a glass of merlot each, they lounged in the living room and ate, chatting amicably. Ryan got her a second helping when he went to get himself one, and they compared notes on the different training needed for something of this caliber.

  “If this was prep for the 5k, I would have eaten a third that amount, without the wine, of course.” She happily groaned at her nice full tummy and pulled her legs up onto the couch. “So, let’s go over our plan, Peabody.”

  His eyes crinkled with mirth. “Are you calling me a smart dog?”

  “No, take out the part about the dog—which I found adorable—and you get the brilliant-minded, extremely young inventor slash scientist who can make anything work. Even an old woman like me finishing an ultramarathon.”

  He put his wine glass down, suddenly serious. “Shay, I get it. You are laying the boundaries, and letting me know in no uncertain terms you are off-limits to a man such as me. I’m fine with that. Thank you.”

  Crap, was that what she was doing? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “I took no offense, and will continue to respect whatever boundaries you set for yourself. What does bug me is your calling yourself old, or demeaning yourself. I work with a lot of women, and fear or anger makes them say some of the craziest things. I’m not pretty enough, thin enough, young enough.” His gaze softened again. “I like you, but I won’t push you for a personal relationship because I am reading you’re not ready for one, not with me, anyway. But please know I do not see you as any of the things some women judge themselves by. You’re strong, independent, beautiful, and the perfect age for ultramarathoning.”

  “I guess you put me in my place.” Her lips drew back, her cheeks aching. God, it had been forever since she had smiled this much. It felt nice.

  “I’m sure you will be giving it back just as hard in another moment when I tell you my idea for the next month.”

  “Lay it on me, Peabody.” She winked.

  Less than five minutes later, she let him have it. Standing on her aching legs and wobbling back and forth—maybe the second glass of wine hadn’t been the best idea—she railed at the poor man.

  “You want me to gain weight? As in, not being able to fit into my Batman jammie pants anymore, kind of weight? How much poundage are we talking? Muscle or fat? How much of each? How fast and how long? Why? I am okay with my body and all the natural shifting it’s doing, but to suggest purposefully adding to the mix…” she sputtered and sat back down with a heavy oomph.

  “Shay, I’m talking about a little extra weight for the race. I’ve done the research, and the best finishers have all had more to burn on those difficult days,” he reasoned.

  “And a little extra layer of fat might keep me warm during the night portion,” she said, frowning. “It makes sense. But it goes against everything I have done growing up.”

  “I know. Sorry. You don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to. It’s your body and your race. Mind if we talk it out? What are the biggest cons and pros? Why do this? What’s your ultimate goal?”

  “All right, but I’m going to need another glass of wine and a back massage.” She was kidding about the last part, but he took it in stride.

  After refilling her glass of wine, and setting it on the coffee table, he motioned for her to flip over onto her tummy.

  “I was only playing. You don’t have to—”

  “Shay, I don’t do things unless I want to.” He looked sweet and commanding at the same time. “The hottest woman I have ever met asked me to rub my hands and knuckles across her gorgeous bare skin. The woman I’m training asked me, her trainer, to help her alleviate some soreness. Either one, I’m in and happy to oblige. Would you like me to massage your back?”

  “Yes, thank you. But don’t think about trying to get me to make any decisions while I’m turning into a big puddle of goo. That’s entrapment.”

  He laughed. “Okay, no entrapment. Just the brilliant Mr. Peabody doing what he does best.”

  She held the blanket in front of her chest as she pulled off her T-shirt and lay down on her stomach. “Massages?”

  His breath sounded like it hitched for a moment before he answered her with firm, heated palms along each side of her spine. “Brainstorming.”

  His hands felt like heaven as they kneaded and dug along the tight ridges in her shoulders and neck. “Mmm, I think I like it when we brainstorm.”

  “Brainstorming weekly. Got it.” He proceeded to turn her into a pile of warm goo.

  Chapter Two

  He had been spot-on with his weight assessment. The last several years’ top finishers had all been over forty and at least ten pounds over the average weight for their body type, height, and age. Shay had performed remarkably, adjusting when needed, making her own suggestions in the plan, implementing each new one after they went over each possible scenario.

  They were perfect together, a well-honed team, giving and taking, speaking, listening. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she finished a long set of abs. As fatigued as she was, her body slumping to the mats with a hard groan, her eyes flashed with youth and vigor and joy. She loved this. Being pushed to her max, barely able to walk sometimes after a hard workout. Exhausted. Those days, he drove her home, heated her dinner, refilled her extra-large cups of water, Gatorade, and several other hydration drinks, gave her a full-body massage, tucked a blanket up to her chin because she had fallen asleep, and then tiptoed out the door, locking it behind him.

  He had said no, at first, to her offer of a house key but finally acquiesced. It made sense. He needed easy access and a way to keep her safe after he left. If they had been dating, he could have given her all the attention she needed while she snuggled up in those sweet Batman pajamas, cocooned in a plush blanket on her bed, and then he would have slept on her couch. No, that wasn’t correct. If they were dating, he’d be in her bed.

  But Shay wasn’t interested. She made that clear several times, even taking it so far as to accept a few dinner offers from Max. Max was closer to her age, much better suited for a strong-willed intelligent beauty like Shaylee Markle. Besides, he wouldn’t cock block his best friend. Max had shown his interest in her in their very first meeting, and sparks had flown. He rolled his eyes skyward. Maybe sparks wasn’t the correct term. More like Max thumped on his chest, prepared to drag her off by her hair, and she showed her Xena: Warrior Princess side, knocking him to his figurative ass. More than sparks. An explosion. And Ryan wasn’t getting in the middle of that. Besides, she hadn’t shown any signs of interest—not like toward Max—in his direction. She obviously wasn’t interested. So, Ryan continued the performance of a lifetime. Train the woman of your dreams, fix her up each night, protect her from getting hurt, leave, and don’t let her know your huge secret. You’re in love with the woman and would literally die for her.

  Shay slowed to a walk and gingerly stepped off the treadmill. “How’d I look?” She strode toward him. “I know you were watching.”

  “Pretty good.” He put his cell down and picked up a towel from the corner of his desk. “You still might want to turn down the speed after the tenth mile and consider alternating walking and jogging. You don’t want your quads to get too sore before you even hit the halfway mark.”

  “I’ll consider it. Thanks.” She accepted the towel he handed her and wiped the sweat off her red face. “Okay, what’s next?”

  He methodically sprayed and wiped down her treadmill, while she sat down and stretched and crunched on her ice chunks.

  “I still think I should wipe down my own equipment, but you go ahead, since you were chilling on your backside for the past hour and a half.” It sounded like a grumble, but she gave him a quick wink before settling into her stretching. It was another one of their small arguments, which he had won. Although she’d pursed her lips and given him that crinkle-eyed look that meant she didn’t quite agree, she had accepted his expla
nation. It would get her into stretching quicker, and he wasn’t doing anything at the time. And there was no one else there to see her “shirking her duties”—her words.

  He wondered if Shay would let Max win arguments about weight gain and wiping off equipment. Before he could let his mind wander too far into the Ryan-isn’t-good-enough-for-Shay territory, he remembered all the times she’d dished it back to him. Hell, the woman didn’t blindly follow orders. She processed ideas, analyzed them quickly, and then chose her own course of action. Shay respected his experience. This wasn’t about chemistry, or sparks, or lack thereof. Besides, if he really thought about it, you wouldn’t tease someone if you were completely ambivalent to them, right? He watched her lean legs bend and straighten, the muscles lengthening and shortening with each slow, measured movement. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Very funny, Sherman.” He smiled when she stuck her tongue out at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow or Wednesday to do your sauna trip? You can stretch just as well in this room.” He had raised the temps to an almost unbearable eighty degrees since no one else would be using the facility until it opened at five thirty a.m.

  “I thought about it. I have less than three weeks yet to immerse-train. I want to get used to the dry heat and let my body acclimatize to it for a little bit. And I don’t want to do that at the same time I start my early morning runs. One big change at a time so I don’t get overloaded.”

  It made sense. She had agreed to do some outside running in a few more weeks. He would follow her in his car, along one of the lesser-used long stretches of road right outside the city. Three hours of running to prepare for the dark and get used to being alone, the sounds around her, the hard pavement. She needed to get used to it, and this way he could keep her safe.

  “So, what’s your idea?” She stretched her legs out in front of her and went into a beautiful pike, her sweat-glistened body stretching and firming as she changed positions. She had put on a few pounds, filling out her curves even more. But her lean legs and sculpted shoulders perfected the look. She was gorgeous.

  “I want to give you an IV before you go in.”

  “I hate needles.” She frowned. “And isn’t there a rule against something like that?”

  “I triple checked, and even contacted the race organizer. There is no rule against an IV to stay hydrated. In fact, some of last years’ best finishers used a pick-me-up hydration combination during a rest stop. We’re just hydrating. Liquids, vitamins, minerals, nothing else. But it’s up to you. Can you stand a little jab?”

  Her eyes darkened with heat, blue eyes flashing at him with something besides the usual “Isn’t he adorable” look she usually graced him with. “I’ll take a little jab, but I’m saying no to tiny pricks.”

  “I assure you…” He gazed up the swells of her breasts to her flushed cheeks. “I would never give you a tiny prick.”

  “All right, then, where do you want to poke me?”

  He tripped over the edge of a reformer machine but caught his balance. Was she flirting with him? “Shay?” He swallowed hard and knelt next to her, trying to gauge her interest. “Are you playing with me?”

  “I’m not playing with you, I’m trying to flirt with you.” She grimaced and wrapped her arms around her tummy. “Guess I’m not very good at it.”

  “Oh, you’re good at it, and I’m interested in continuing this conversation.” His cock straining against his workout pants could attest to the fact. “But what happened to... Before? What about Max?”

  “Max and I agreed to be friends. We aren’t connecting as well as we had both hoped.” She looked up at him almost shyly. “He wants someone a bit sweeter, more accepting of direction. I want someone who can accept me as I am”

  Was she talking about him?

  “Someone who will give suggestions but will back off and let me make up my own mind. Someone who likes my stupid jokes. Someone who won’t try to bonk me over the head and carry me to his big Jeep like a caveman, to get me into bed.”

  “I like your stupid jokes.” Lame. Not his most shining moment.

  Her eyes shone with humor as her mouth opened wide with a bark of laughter. It wasn’t full of pity or embarrassment, but one of those hearty laughs that said he’d tickled her. “I don’t know why age has to be an issue. Do you?”

  He shook his head.

  “At the risk of being too forward and eating my size eights, would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight? A real date?” she asked.

  “Like what we’ve been doing already, complete with massages and sleep?”

  “Complete with naked massages for both of us, and neither of us sleeps until we have had enough orgasms to make us pass out.”

  He choked. “Well, that wasn’t cryptic in any way.”

  “I want to try out a relationship with you, Ryan. Sex, sleeping, long talks, the works. If you are interested. If not, please say so now, so I can go hide in the sauna.”

  “Silly woman, of course I’m still interested in you. Never more than now. I didn’t want to push you, or make you uncomfortable. Besides, it sounded like you and Max would hit it off.”

  “We weren’t meant to be. But I have a few friends who might be right up his alley. So are you going to poke me now or later?” She wiggled her hips at him mischievously.

  “Both.” He winked and helped her to her feet. “We’ll get your IV going, and then you can settle into your stretching in the sauna. I’ll set a timer for forty-five minutes, and will check on you every ten. Okay, what am I forgetting?”

  “This.” She grabbed his head and pulled him toward her, tilting her face up to meet his lips. She tasted heavenly, like chocolate and peppermint, her tongue and lips taking complete control as she showed him what she wanted.

  He returned her kiss and gripped her shoulders, taking charge of the moment. He devoured her mouth, his tongue exploring every inch of her as she moaned and softened beneath him. He had dreamt of this for thirty-two long days and nights, and she was exactly as he had imagined she would be. Strong, yet supple. Firm, yet malleable. Soft and warm…perfect.

  When they finally pulled apart, her eyes were glazed and bright.

  “Too much?” He hoped he hadn’t been too rough.

  “It was perfect. Okay, I’m ready for my sauna trip. Let’s go.” She clasped his hand, led him to the women’s locker room, and stripped down to her jogging bra and shorts, before sitting down on a towel on the bench. “Okay, professor. Give me a good poke.”

  ~.~

  Shay changed her outfit again and frowned at the ever-increasing heap of rumpled, discarded clothes on the foot of the bed. She’d have to clear it off before Ryan got there, or they’d have nowhere to… She was going to do this, wasn’t she? Take this sexy younger man to her bed? She flushed, thinking about finally seeing him naked. He would be gorgeous. The way he filled out his T-shirt and jeans, the occasional glimpses she had of his interest, the man was definitely the full package. She wanted him so badly, it made her wet-pantied and overheated every time she was with him. She’d ignored it for the sake of propriety for the first few weeks, even accepting the dinner dates with Max.

  But it hadn’t helped. The more she tried to ignore her cravings for the man, the harder they hit her, especially at night. Every dream centered around the kind, dependable trainer, his chocolate eyes glazing with hunger for her; he would make her scream his name over and over. The dreams had drifted over into her daytime musings—mostly during the long runs. Whenever Ryan asked her if she was okay, she would play off almost tripping while walking on the treadmill. “A momentary lapse in concentration.” And he never had a clue. She envisioned those firm lips playing with her nipples, her wet clit. God, her pussy clenched again as she envisioned going to her knees right after a long run, stepping off the treadmill to kneel at his feet. Taking his hard, long cock out of his pants and sucking him in so deep she would choke.

  She tr
ied on a shimmery, loose-fitting black dress. Ryan always told her to slow down on the treadmill. But, in her daydreams, he told her to speed it up. And boy, she had.

  Tonight, she would take all her daydreams—and night dreams, fantasies with her battery operated best friend between her legs, her fingers fondling her nipples while she played out her almost-torturous desires—and make them a reality.

  Unless Ryan changed his mind? She froze, her heart hammering. What if he took one look at her naked form and was repulsed? It was one thing to see a woman in a jogging bra and shorts, or panties, or to massage her back.

  But Ryan had never seen her C-section scar from Courtney. He hadn’t yet seen the muffin-like expansion right above her pubic bone, nor her ass, which had grown a few extra inches this past year. What used to be long and firm and lean was now riddled with tiny dark veins, and cottage cheese. Yeah, she’d held up better than some of the other women her age, but she was still a forty-three-year-old mother of two. Her body was not what it used to be.

  She couldn’t compete with a thirty-year-old—someone Ryan’s own age. A woman Ryan would be attracted to. Maybe she should call off the whole thing. Better to play at being aloof than to see the rejection in his eyes. Better not to even try than to be turned down.

  Her hand trailed up her widened hip, over her plump tummy and firm breasts, over the dark splotches from days in the sun, over her seasoned face, around her crow’s feet. Who was she kidding? She should call him now. She picked up her cell phone, as the doorbell rang.

  ~.~

  She was gorgeous. Wearing a black dress that shimmered and wrapped around her, accentuating her luscious breasts. It fell loosely around her trim waist and rounded hips. The material clung to her top half and swished over her bottom half, and all he could think about—after closing his mouth and trying not to salivate—was twirling her around in his arms and watching the dress flare and mold against her. “I’m early, I know. I either knocked on the door thirty minutes ahead of time or sat out front like a stalker trying to peep through your bedroom curtains.” Yeah, the king of the lame jokes coined a new one. He cleared his throat. “I chose the non-stalker route.”