“But first, vino,” she said, to the empty kitchen.
Her first sip of a lovely Gewurztraminer was in her mouth when herphone dinged, indicating a text.
Probably notuntil late. Big case. Ordered some Chinese.
Spencer’s wave of disappointment was short-lived, instantlyreplaced by happy anticipation of a night alone. That had been happening moreand more lately, and she’d been trying to ignore it. Shouldn’t she be excitedfor her partner—no, her fiancée—to come home? Shouldn’t she look forward tospending time with her rather than be happy to be alone?
The pasta and jar of sauce tucked back in the cupboard, Spencerpulled eggs out of the fridge instead. As she was beating a couple with a fork,thoughts flew around her head, fast and furious.
She loved Marti. Didn’t she? They’d been together for nearly twoyears. They knew each other well. Rather, Spencer knew Marti well. If they wereforced to playTheNewlywed Gameand were asked questions about each other, Spencerwould beat Marti easily. That was only because Marti wasn’t good with detailand she wasn’t a romantic at heart. Not like Spencer, who could lose an entireweekend watching the Hallmark Channel’s cheesy romance movies and loving everysecond of it. Marti was pragmatic. Logical. And her job as an attorney hadtaught her to tuck her own emotions into a box and leave them at the door.Depositions and trials were no place for feelings, she liked to say.
Did she wish Marti had a tiny bit of a romantic side? Of course.But that just wasn’t her and that was okay. Spencer gave a firm nod as shescrambled eggs in a frying pan, then sprinkled some grated cheddar onto them.
I could do alot worse than Marti. I’m lucky to have her.
She took a large gulp of her wine and tried not to wonder who shewas hoping to convince.
* * *
Well. Thatwas good. Sort of.
Rebecca stowed her things in her own locker in the staff lockerroom—a separate, secure room away from the public locker room—before headingfor the showers. It felt better, anyway. It was much more pleasant to be niceto Spencer Thompson, to treat her like any other client rather than let her ownjudgments seep in. There was a thing she hadn’t counted on, though: likingSpencer a bit too much.
What was it about her anyway?
She cranked the water as hot as she could get it and let it beat arhythm against her shoulders, trying her best to focus on all the work she’ddone today, all the bending and stretching with clients, as well as her ownworkout she’d snuck in after lunch. But the more she tried not to think aboutSpencer, the more she thought about Spencer.
She drew people. Rebecca could see that. People liked Spencerimmediately. Lucy adored her. Even the other three (that Rebecca had dubbed“the clique”) seemed to be warming to her little by little. There was somethingabout Spencer that made people feel relaxed with her. Comfortable. Rebecca wasno exception.
She was kind. Even when she’d told Rebecca she was quitting lastFriday, she’d been almost…professional about it. She was angry, that had beenobvious, but she’d said her piece and walked away. No raised voices. Noname-calling. No swearing.
That last thought made Rebecca chuckle beneath the spray of water.What had Spencer said? Sugar and spice? Yeah, Rebecca was going to get anF-bomb out of her if it was the last thing she did. Then her mind began towander to the physical attributes of Spencer Thompson. And that was dangerous.
Spencer was in much better shape than she gave herself credit for.She was a bit…soft, yes. Untoned, as most people were. But she had great potential.And her blue eyes were kind. Inviting. She had lovely hands. Feminine andpretty. Her wavy hair was beautiful, just waiting for fingers to dig in—
“Stop it!” Rebecca hissed the command at herself, eyes squeezedshut, fists balled tightly until her nails left red crescents in her palms.
Spencer was engaged.
She was getting married in a few months.
She wassooff-limits. You couldn’t get much more off-limits than Spencer Thompson was.Rebecca needed to remember that and derail this train of thought completely.Right now. Before it became a problem. Well, a bigger problem. She made amental note to back off again, just a little, when it came to Spencer. Shedidn’t like that idea, but at this point, the way her thoughts were going, itwas necessary.
Once she’d toweled off and dressed, Rebecca gathered her thingsand headed upstairs. It had become quiet, as it was getting late and the gymclosed shortly. She waved to the college-age kid behind the desk, who was mostlikely doing an internship for his sports medicine degree, and drove herselfhome, determined.
When she had fed Veruca Salt, who meowed her dissatisfaction overeating at this late hour—even though she ate around this very time more oftenthan not—Rebecca settled onto her couch, clicked on the TV to Lifetime, andpulled her computer onto her lap. She didn’t tell a lot of people that she wasa Lifetime movie addict, but she was. She loved them, their lame plots, theirultra-cheesy titles. And once in a while, she’d hit pay dirt and stumble acrossa really good one. Mostly, she had it on for background noise. Being somebodywho worked in a gym for anywhere from seven to fourteen or fifteen hours a day,she was used to the constant hum of activity. Being in her house alone with nosound weirded her out a little bit.
Rebecca set the remote down and waited for Veruca Salt to makeherself comfortable alongside her, then she signed on to one of the datingsites. Not bothering to look at her new matches, she scrolled and clicked untilshe found the friendly looking brown-haired girl whose name was Beth. She hadtwo other photos, which Rebecca checked out, then read her profile again. Shewas into yoga, hiking, rowing (so active, which earned her points). She was anurse and thirty-seven, two years older than Rebecca.
“Okay, Ruke, here goes nothing.”
This was good.
This was a surefire way to yank her thoughts back to where theywere supposed to be instead of where they’d cause nothing but trouble.
This was good.
Chapter Seven
