A Bravo Homecoming. Christine RimmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
Because the honest truth was, she never wanted it to end.
Chapter Four
She got through the next day without once wishing she could wring Jonathan’s neck.
Even though he pushed her constantly to do better, to try harder, even though he remained as snooty and superior as ever, well, she was okay with that. If Travis hadn’t told her what her coach really thought about her, she never would have guessed that Jonathan believed she was doing well.
But Travis had told her, and his telling her had boosted her confidence enough that she threw herself into her training with new enthusiasm. She worked even harder than before.
And that second shopping trip on Thursday?
It wasn’t easy, but it was better. She discovered she was getting the hang of what to look for, getting an eye for spotting the finds in an endless sea of different fabrics, colors and styles.
They went back to the hotel that day with more shopping bags than the time before. Jonathan couldn’t help smiling at how well she’d done.
And she laughed. “I know you’re proud of me, Jonathan. I can see it on your face.”
“Ahem. Well. Don’t get too confident. We have a lot more to do.”
She nodded. “I know. And I’m ready for whatever you can throw at me.”
His eyelids drooped lazily over those sharp dark eyes, a look of pure satisfaction. “Perhaps you would enjoy a T-bone steak, rare, and a large baked potato this evening as a reward for work well done?”
She clapped her de-callused hands. “Oh, Jonathan. You have no idea.”
“An hour in the gym first,” he ordered gruffly.
She was only too pleased to pull on the clingy, sexy workout clothes they’d bought that day and head down to the hotel gym. She kicked butt on the treadmill and then pumped iron for all she was worth.
And at six-thirty that evening, she was treated to the most beautiful slab of beef she’d ever seen. She wanted to saw off a huge, juicy hunk and shove it in her mouth, to chew without worrying about keeping her lips together, to let the juice run down her chin.
But she didn’t. She put her napkin in her lap and she picked up her fork and knife and took her time about it. She cut each small bite smoothly and neatly—no sawing. She chewed slowly and thoroughly. She even managed to make polite conversation while she ate.
Jonathan didn’t once have to reprimand her.
And it was…. kind of fun really. Kind of graceful and satisfying. Eating slowly with care wasn’t half-bad after all.
The next day, Friday, they “worked” her wardrobe. Jonathan showed her how to mix and match the various pieces, to make several outfits out of a skirt, skinny pants, a sweater and various accessories.
They also “did” packing. He produced a gorgeous set of designer luggage and showed her how to pack for various types of excursions—from a weekend in the country to five days in Manhattan to a tropical getaway and an Alaskan cruise. She laughed at that. At the idea of Sam Jaworski packing up her designer duds and heading for the Big Apple or Jamaica or the land of the midnight sun. She also practiced packing for the week with the Bravo family.
That day, they went out for lunch and for dinner. It was important to use her new skills in the real world, Jonathan said.
And the next day, all of a sudden, it was Saturday. The last day of her training, the day of her final test.
Jonathan told her what the test would be: That night at seven, Travis would arrive to take her out for the evening.
She worked her butt off in the morning, reviewing with Jonathan. It was something of a test in itself, to prove how much she remembered of all that he’d taught her, how much she could apply with seeming effortlessness.
Over lunch at Quattro, the gorgeous Italian place in the hotel, Jonathan actually praised her outright. He said she was amazing him. He said that he was proud of her.
She went back upstairs floating on a cloud of success and good feelings.
Then came the afternoon in the spa.
It wasn’t as bad as the first time. She didn’t have to get another peel and she didn’t need waxing.
Still, there was the endless sitting as she had the manicure and the pedicure, the hair color and cut. She worked with the makeup consultant for a couple of hours, learning what products she needed, learning how to apply them.
It all took too long and she would just as soon have been down in the gym bench-pressing triple her weight, working up a good, healthy sweat.
But when it was done, well, she looked in the mirror and saw her dream self staring back at her, as tall and strong as she’d ever been—and yet, so much more. Even her too-short hair looked terrific, with highlights and lowlights, the gamine-style cut bringing out her cheekbones, kind of showing off the nice oval shape of her face. And the makeup was perfect. It enhanced her best features and minimized her flaws.
She returned to the suite, where Jonathan called her amazing for the second time that day.
By then it was almost six. Time to put on the beautifully fitted knee-length stretch satin dress with its skinny straps and built-in bra. A big rhinestone cuff and four-inch Dolce & Gabbana black lace pumps completed the outfit. She grabbed her small satin bag and the cute velvet shrug to keep her shoulders warm outside in the cool November darkness.
And she was ready.
When she came out of her room, Jonathan actually applauded.
She laughed and spun in a circle. “Pretty good, huh?”
He got out his camera and took a whole bunch of pictures. Sam almost felt nostalgic. Was it only Monday that they’d started together? Had she come so far in such a very short time?
It appeared that she had.
The firm tap on the suite’s door came at seven on the dot.
She went to answer.
The look on Travis’s face when she opened the door…oh, it was priceless. He actually gaped.
And then he said, his voice barely a croak, “Sam? My God. Sam.”
She laughed in delight. “Oh, Travis…” And she threw her arms around him. He stiffened at first—because she seemed so different, like a stranger?
She wasn’t sure. She started to feel kind of awkward, that she had maybe scared him by jumping all over him.
But then he relaxed. His arms came around her. He hugged her good and tight and he whispered, “You are drop-dead gorgeous, you know that?” He pressed his cheek to hers. “And you smell so good….”
She could have stood there, holding him tight like that forever. She liked it, so much, the glorious feel of his big, hard body pressed against hers. In his arms right then she felt so…feminine. Not soft, exactly. She was too buff for that.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала,