Meg Maguire - Making Him Sweat & Taking Him Down - Making Him Sweat / Taking Him Down

Down here, Mercer could keep his priorities straight.

“That sign’s going to cause a stir with the guys. I haven’t told anybody the deal yet. But we’ve been needing new equipment for years, and suddenly there’s the money to open an entirely new franchise? You’re not going to make any friends that way.”

She crossed her arms, and God help him, that defiant little gesture had his anger morphing to lust in a heartbeat.

“I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to run a business.”

“Two businesses.”

She was kind or smart enough not to add, For now . “I haven’t forgotten that.”

He glanced at her feet. “Take your shoes off. These mats have enough holes in them already.”

She yanked off her heels. “I know it looks bad. That’s why I apologized. But this place is your territory. Spark is mine.”

“I can’t have a bunch of keyed-up fighters questioning the future of this place so soon.” It hurt too much to even know the score himself. “Not with an important tournament coming up.”

“I get it, and I’m sorry. Like I said, I didn’t ask them to put the sign where they did. Maybe we could find a ladder and move it up, so it doesn’t look so…”

“Condemning?”

“Yeah.” She sighed, sounding exhausted. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Yeah, we will. What’s up with you, anyway? You look beat.”

Another loaded breath. “It’s fine. It was just stressful, showing the managers around, not knowing what they’d make of the place. It was approved last month on paper, but who knows what improvements the franchise overseer will demand to get it up to Spark standards. Or how much it’ll cost. But they said they like the neighborhood—I hadn’t been sure they would.”

“And the neighbors?” he asked, jerking his head to mean the gym.

She smiled, a tight, apologetic gesture. “I won’t pretend they were giddy about it.”

“No, I’m sure they weren’t.” Suddenly exhausted himself, Mercer cast his gaze around, searching for a change of topic. A distraction from both the conflict and the attraction that had him so screwed up in the head.

“There’s something I was meaning to show you, next time you were down here.”

“Oh?”

He led her to the back wall. It was plastered with old boxing posters. Photos of the greats, newspaper and magazine stories about local fighters hung behind Lucite. He tapped an item in the middle and she came close to peer at it. It was a yellowed article from her hometown paper, with a picture of Jenna at age twelve or so, in a bathing cap and suit, holding up a medal for her team’s showing in a county swim meet. He watched her face, her blue eyes widening only to then narrow, lips pursed in a tight line.

“He put that right up there, with all the stories about his favorite fighters,” Mercer offered.

“Yeah. That’s sweet.” She was forcing a pleasant response, but Mercer couldn’t even guess what emotion she was aiming for.

He pressed on anyway, compelled as always to defend her dad. “He was really proud of you. Never shut up about you.”

“Great. Thanks for showing me that. It’s very touching.” She was so lousy at faking enthusiasm, she almost sounded sarcastic. Mercer felt suddenly diminished, reduced to a sweaty, weary heap of aching muscles. Maybe it had just been the wine for her, all along.

“Well. I’ll let you get back to your work.”

She nodded. “You too.”

“I’ll get one of the guys to help me with the sign. Hoist it up a couple feet so it’s clear our two ventures are just cohabitating. And I’ll get busy letting everyone know you’re taking over the office and all that, for the dating thing.”

“Thanks. Tell them they’re free to ask me about it. If anyone’s confused or concerned.”

He smiled grimly. “I’ll be first in line.”

Her gaze jumped to the article he’d shown her.

“He was a good guy,” Mercer said. “I’d prove it to you, if you gave me half a chance.”

She chewed on a reply but swallowed it, unspoken. “See you around the apartment.”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

Jenna began to walk away, taking Mercer’s energy with her. Then she turned, and a little glimmer of her sweet self broke through the crust. “If you like frittata, I can make enough for two tonight.”

He warmed at the offer, so tempted to toss a teasing remark back and remind her what happened the last time they’d shared a meal. “I’m not sure what that is. But if it’s food, then yeah, that’d be real nice.”

“Seven-thirty?”

“I’m leading a session at seven, but make it eight-fifteen and it’s a date, Miss Matchmaker.”

Finally, she smiled. And just like that, he was screwed. Two seconds’ flirting and he wanted her again, worse than ever.

Shit. He better schedule himself a sadistic workout for the late afternoon. Better haul his body up those steps too tired to chew, let alone to muster the energy to mess around. Because near-high-school dropout or not, Mercer was smart enough to know that if Jenna couldn’t manage to keep them strictly platonic tonight… he didn’t stand a chance in hell.

* * *

WHEN MERCER ENTERED the apartment just after eight, Jenna stood a little straighter behind the counter, chopping peppers, steeling herself.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself, roommate.”

He looked dead tired. Maybe just the by-product of a long, physical workday, or maybe he felt as beat-down as she did, following the unfortunate misunderstanding with the sign. On top of that, she’d spent almost the entire day in the office, and no less than twenty gym members had interrupted to express their condolences, most of them then regaling her with legendary tales of her larger-than-life father. Thoughtful gestures, though each one she smiled through had only reminded her how close he’d been to these strangers, to everyone but her. She felt as tired as Mercer looked.

After disappearing into his room with his gym bag, Mercer came to loiter on the opposite side of the counter. He eyed the bowl of egg mixture. “What’s this called again?”

“Frittata. Not quite an omelet, not quite a quiche.”

“I’m not entirely sure what a quiche is. So, how was your day?”

“Long. Spent most of it getting pummeled with all the stuff the franchise overseers are going to be sweeping through to do in the next couple months.”

“Nothing like a good pummeling. What sort of stuff?”

“They’re sending a bunch of people tomorrow, a design team to drop off the upholstery swatches and paint chips I’m allowed to choose from when I decorate my office. And some last-minute inspection stuff, technicalities before the space gets official approval.”

“You need me to clean the gym’s clutter out of there?”

“Not immediately, but soon.” Jenna turned back to the cutting board. “How was your day, aside from that unpleasant surprise? Thanks for moving the sign, by the way.”

“No problem. And my day was long.”

“How were your stairs?”

“Also long.” He leaned his forearms on the counter, watching her busy hands. “But whatever keeps the kid too beat to worry about bullshit back home, or worse. Girls.”

“Right. No greater threat to you mercenary types than we ladies.”

Mercer smirked.

As Jenna sliced mushrooms, she mustered the courage to say, “Speaking of the danger of women… The dangers of sex and romance, that is.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m issuing us a mutual restraining order tonight.”

He laughed, and though he was clearly confused, it was nice to see him really smiling again. “Pardon?”

“I think we should stay separated by at least four feet at all times. For our own good.” Though even as she said it, she felt heat blooming in her body, felt her resolve turning soft and lazy.