Girl Trouble. Sandra FieldЧитать онлайн книгу.
their way into Cade’s addled brain. She was wearing an aerobics outfit, a shiny neon-pink latex top whose brevity made his head swim, and equally close-fitting black shorts. Her hips were deliciously rounded. To his horror he felt his groin begin to stiffen.
Her eyes widened and her cheeks flooded with color. Roughly Cade pushed her away, infuriated by his body’s betrayal, even more angry that she should be aware of it. He said harshly, “Lifting weights. What about you?”
“I—I have an aerobics class. But what are you doing in the city? I thought you were in Australia. Or Chile, or somewhere.”
“Australia was seven years ago, Chile eight” Realizing he was still clasping her by the shoulders, bare except for the straps of her top, he let his hands fall and bent to pick up the towel he’d dropped when she’d bumped into him. “I live here now,” he said.
“Live here? Since when?”
“A couple of months ago. You don’t look very pleased.”
That was putting it mildly. She looked appalled, distraught, even—his eyes narrowed—frightened. Now why should the reappearance of a man she’d spurned many years ago—had treated like dirt—make a woman as self-possessed as Lorraine Cartwright afraid?
She pushed a strand of hair back from her face; her fingers were trembling very slightly. Making an obvious effort to gather her wits, she said, “It’s nothing to me where you live, of course. It just startled me, that’s all, seeing you after all these years.”
“Ten,” Cade said. “Remember? The last time we talked was at the gas station in August.”
Two days after the beating. He watched her pale, then flush an unbecoming shade of red. “I suppose so. Look, I’ve got to—”
“So have you become a student in your old age, Lorraine?” he asked with an unpleasant smile.
Her chin tilted. “Lori,” she said. “I go by Lori now.”
It wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “Lori...why the change of name?”
Her chin went a little higher. “Why not?”
In other words, mind your own business, Cade MacInnis. Oddly, he thought the abbreviated name suited her. Lorraine went with the disdainful air of that much younger woman, the one with smooth hair and polished fingernails. The one way she hadn’t looked so far today was disdainful. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said.
He could see her searching her memory. “Oh...oh, no, I’m not a student.”
A blond guy over six feet tall and built like a football player punched her lightly on the arm with a familiarity that raised Cade’s hackles. “Hey, Lori—you ready to go?”
“I’ll be right there, Tory. Cade, I have to go, I’ve got a class. It’s been...nice to see you again.”
“Nice? Tell the truth, Lori, you’d rather I was in Patagonia. How’s Ray?”
She flashed him a look he could only describe as hunted, mumbled, “’Bye,” and, joined by a crowd of students, headed for the large room where aerobics classes were held.
Cade stayed where he was, his eyes glued to the blond ponytail of the woman he had once loved with all the desperation of youth, and then had hated equally fiercely and with youth’s complete lack of compromise. Nice to see you... Who are you kidding, Lorraine Cartwright? Patagonia’s too close for your liking. Central Antarctica would suit you better.
She was no more indifferent to him than he to her. That much he’d learned from a conversation as baffling as it had been brief. That, and the fact that for some reason his sudden appearance had frightened her.
He strolled over to the ceiling-high windows that bordered one side of the aerobics room. The music had already started, poundingly loud, with an accelerated rock beat that was one of the reasons he’d never ventured near an aerobics class. Then his fist tightened on his towel. Lori was perched on a raised dais at the front of the room, doing toe taps and arm raises as the beginning of a warm-up. She wasn’t a member of the class. She was teaching it.
Lorraine Cartwright teaching an aerobics class to a bunch of students? What the hell was going on? The Lorraine he knew might have been riding her thoroughbred horse, or shopping in Montreal, or going to plays and concerts in New York. But she wouldn’t have been teaching aerobics.
The class was mixed, male and female, with a preponderance of students in bright garb, but also with some older people in the back rows, even a gray head or two. The student called Tory was in the front row, enthusi-astically jabbing his fists over his head. Cade stepped closer, watching Lori as she started marching on the spot. Her breasts bounced as she moved. The smooth play of muscles in her arms and legs bewitched him. Oh great, he thought caustically. A cold shower, that’s what you need, and saw her glance in his direction. Her step faltered, losing the beat.
Too bad I’m not in Patagonia, isn’t it, Lori? Too bad I’m right here in Halifax. Because you and I have some unfinished business, and I’m going to make damn sure we deal with it.
Almost as if she could read his thoughts, she hurriedly looked away, picking up the rhythm again. Cade had had enough of watching her. He shouldered his towel and headed for the showers.
When he emerged, wearing jeans and a summer shirt, his hair in wet curls on his scalp, the class was still in progress. Everyone was jogging on the spot, doing arm raises at a fast clip; Lori looked as cool and energetic as she had twenty minutes ago. She did not look his way.
Cade strolled to the front desk and picked up an aerobics schedule. She was listed as L. Cartwright. She taught six days a week. He frowned at the neatly typed list, wondering why Lorraine, who had never lacked for anything in her life, was teaching six classes a week for, probably, not much more than minimum wage. Thoughtfully he folded the schedule and put it in his kit bag. Then he said to the young woman who was handing out towels, “I have a pass for the weight room. Next week could I try out a couple of aerobics classes to see if I’d like to add that to my membership?”
“No problem,” she said. “Just pick up a guest pass on your way in.”
Monday he’d take early lunch at the garage, come to Lori’s class and then corner her afterward. After all, the two of them had quite a bit to talk about. He wanted to confront her with her actions of ten years ago. He also wanted to know what was going on in her life right now. She owed him a few answers, did Lori Cartwright. And maybe when he’d gotten them, he’d get over this adolescent obsession with her.
He’d better. What other options did he have?
As Cade turned away, fumbling for his car keys in his pocket, he noticed for the first time the two little girls who were sitting in padded green chairs by the doorway to the gym. Both were blond, one with straight hair and one with curly. Lori’s daughters, he thought with a lurch of his gut. They were squabbling, the elder girl giving officious directions, the younger whining in a manner calculated to aggravate.
Cade took a deep breath and walked over to them. “Hello,” he said pleasantly. “My name’s Cade. Your mother and I were friends years ago, before she was married. What are your names?”
The younger one crowed, “We’re not supposed to talk to strangers. Come on, Rachel, give it to me.” She made a grab for her sister’s hand.
Rachel pulled back. “Stop it, Liddy, you’re being a brat and I’m going to tell Mum how bad you were.”
“I’ll tell her you wouldn’t give me my gum. ’Cause you’re so mean and horrible.” Liddy’s face crumpled with maximum histrionic effect. “I’m only little, you shouldn’t be so awful to me.”
With matching melodrama Rachel cast her eyes heav-enward—kingfisher-blue eyes, Cade noticed with a catch at his heart—and said, “You’re the one’s who’s horrible. Take your silly gum, see if I care.”
Liddy snatched at the package