Fearless Maverick by Robyn Grady Read Free Book Online

gaze higher and met his amused look.
Then one corner of his mouth slowly curved and her face flooded with heat.
Caught out, she stuttered an excuse. She hadn’t been ogling. Merely … assessing .
                 ‘You,
uh, obviously work out,’ she said, and then inwardly cringed.
                 Stupid . He was a World Number One. Of
course he worked out. No doubt there’d be gyms in his other houses around the
world, and the best personal trainers, as well as a food plan to sustain the
mind and might of a champion.
                 She
cleared her throat. ‘What I mean to say is … despite your injury, you look
great.’
                 His
lips tilted more at the same time he seemed to move slightly closer, lean
faintly nearer, and the heat in her cheeks exploded, raging out of control as
that natural male scent enveloped her completely.
                 His
gaze skimming her cheek, he murmured, ‘Thank you.’
                 Gulping
back a breath, she averted her gaze and muttered, ‘You’re welcome.’
                 She
imagined that he chuckled to himself before he asked, ‘Where would you like me?’
                 With
unsteady steps, she crossed to a mirror that covered an entire wall. ‘We’ll
start here. You in front facing the mirror. I’ll stand behind.’
                 He
took up his position, steely legs in black athlete’s shorts pinned apart. His
slightly cleft chin angled up. ‘How’s this?’
                 Libby
was torn between sighing and smirking at the magnificent reflection. As if he
didn’t know he looked better than fabulous.
                 ‘That’s
fine. Now hold your arms out at right angles to your body.’ His arms rose
easily. ‘Any pain?’
                 ‘It
feels …’ The chiselled planes of his face pinched. ‘A little weak.’
                 She
grunted. She’d bet more than ‘a little.’
                 ‘I’m
going to test that strength. I’ll put one hand here on the uninjured arm and
the other here, on your recovering arm.’
                 As
she laid a palm on each bicep, she felt the vibration … his chest rumbling, the
sound of a big cat anticipating a full bucket of cream or, perhaps, defending
it.
                 Locking
off her imagination, she continued. ‘Now I’ll push lightly.’
                 ‘Would
you like me to push too? You know—’ his left bicep flexed twice beneath her
hand ‘—push up?’
                 She
met his poker-faced reflection and simmered inside. Damn the man! He’d done
that little trick on purpose. This wasn’t a contest or a show. Every session,
every minute, counted. He needed to take this seriously.
                 Filling
her lungs, she reassembled her patience. ‘I’ll push down and you try to resist.’
                 Gently
she put weight on each arm. His left stayed parallel. His right came down.
                 His
cool expression dissolved and a crease cut between his brows. ‘That’s no good.’
                 ‘With
your injury, it’s normal. We’ll get there.’
                 ‘Yes,
we will. In time for China.’
                 She
held off gaping at his implacable tone. But she had no intention of arguing
that particular point now. She had a job to do. His shoulder would be fit for a
return to the track when she said it was and not a moment before.
                 ‘Would
you go over there and lie down, please?’
                 Holding
his injured arm, Alex looked her up and down, as if deciding whether it would
weaken his position to comply. Then he reluctantly crossed the room, hitched up
on the bed’s white sheet and spread out.
                 Edging
closer, she scanned the exquisite form lying before her and swallowed