Winning Love (6 page)

Either his expression asked that very question, or she read his mind, because a wicked gleam entered her eyes. “Not this time. I really came for you.”

“For what?” He was pretty damn proud of himself for keeping his tone guarded.

“I’m getting ready to go to the rec for Zumba. Want to join me?”

“Zumba?” All evocative thoughts evaporated at the mention of the workout class. Was she for real?

Lifting her arms above her head, she swung her hips in an erotic circle that drew his gaze to them. He jerked it back up, determined to keep his wayward eyes on her face and not her luscious body.

“Yeah,” she said. “You know, Latin aerobics class?”

“Are you asking me to go to Zumba?”

Lance guffawed in the background, seconding how outrageous the idea was.

“Uh. Doesn’t ‘want to join me’ imply that?” Her brows drew together in confusion, then she laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re one of
those
guys.”

“If you mean the type who doesn’t participate in a chick’s aerobics class then, yes, I’m exactly that type.”

There was no way in hell he was going, and it wasn’t because of the dancing. His gaze dropped back to her hips. Dangerous. She was fucking dangerous.

She pouted out her bottom lip, drawing his attention to the plump, inviting flesh. That tightening hit his gut yet again. Damn, he was going to have to stare at the ceiling to be able to have a conversation with this woman.

“Oh, is the poor manly-man scared he won’t be able to keep up?”

And then he felt it…the tug at the corners of his mouth. He clenched his teeth together to keep his lips from curving into a smile. “Men do not dance to work out.”

Not with her, anyway.

“Really? Tell that to the founder, who also happens to be one fine-as-hell Latino.” She sashayed over to Mac. “Show me how you can move those hips, handsome. I. Dare. You.”

So, this was what she had in her bag of dares today.

Refusing to let her bait him this time, he said, “Not going to work, Gayle. I’m privy to your game now. You’re not going to goad me into this one.”

She gave a long sigh and shrugged. “Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted. Besides, it’s better not to be disappointed. A curmudgeon wouldn’t have the moves to keep up, anyway.”

Lance howled with laughter, irking the piss out of Mac.

“Curmudgeon. That’s. Perfect,” Lance said between gasps of air.

“What’s a curmudgeon?” Skylar asked.

“A grumpy old man.” Gayle’s pleased expression mocked Mac, causing his rebellious side to storm forward.

“Uncle Mac isn’t an old man,” Skylar said.

“Thank you.”

“But he is grumpy,” she finished.

Lance doubled over, laughing even harder.

Fine. He’d show them. “I have the moves. Prepare to be awed.”

And that’s when he realized the woman had won.

Again.

M
ac most certainly did not have the moves.

Gayle stifled a snort as he stumbled over his feet while trying to do a simple meringue. The man was the epitome of the saying “white men can’t dance.” He didn’t have a lick of rhythm in his amazing body. Every dance step, from the salsa to belly dancing, was stiff and cumbersome.

She’d give him credit, though. For the last forty-five minutes, he hadn’t backed down from any of the hip-swinging moves. Nor did he seem embarrassed. Not even after the twenty or so women in attendance had gathered in groups and started ogling as soon as he walked in the door.

Even in his awkwardness, Mac was eye candy delight for every woman in the room—including her. The sleeveless red workout shirt showed off his impressive tattoo and chiseled arms, hugged his broad chest and tight torso. Though he’d believed this was going to be a girly workout, sweat coated his skin—and increased his sex appeal. She would need a cold shower after all of this.

Thankfully, the class was almost over. All that was left was the hip-hop routine and the cooldown. Since the instructor was notorious for picking songs she was in the mood for, instead of following a pre-made track list, there was no telling which track she would use. Gayle was hoping for a really fun one. As the current song wound down, the instructor paused her iPod to allow everyone a second to grab a sip of water.

Mac ambled closer to Gayle. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This isn’t easy. My damn heart feels like it’s going to jackhammer out of my chest.” He patted his stomach. “And my abs are on fire. I will never speak ill of Zumba again. It’s a thorough workout.”

“For your first time, you’re doing pretty well.”

“Seriously?” Skepticism rang clear in his voice.

“No.” She shook her head, laughing at his mock-hurt expression. “You look like a deranged animal.”

A dimple dented his right cheek and her heart fluttered. How had she missed that yesterday? The dimple gave him a youthful appearance that showed a glimpse of the man he kept carefully hidden behind his tough exterior.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.” If possible his grin grew, making her knees weak. Good Lord, this man didn’t need to be a professional Latin dancer to make her want to melt to the floor. He just had to look at her with all his barriers down. The Mac she saw right this second was spellbinding.

Their eyes connected, and the air between them thickened. Mac’s throat worked on a swallow, but he didn’t look away. A first. Gayle made sure she wasn’t the one to break the connection.

The instructor did by starting the music. As the opening beat and an, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” of the best hip-hop Zumba routine
ever
filled the fitness room, Gayle couldn’t stop a little squeal of delight.

“What?” Mac asked, a suspicious frown marring his face.

“You’re in for a treat, handsome. Have you heard of The Wobble?”

His eyes widened and his head jerked back. Well, yes, he had. She grabbed his hand, faced the front of the room, and started wobbling her hips. The abject horror on Mac’s face had her sputtering out a laugh as she let go of his hand to clap to the beat and move from side to side, kicking out a leg with each shift. “It’s not hard. Just shake your hips. No different than what we’ve been doing.”

His gaze lowered to her gyrating booty, then jerked back up. “I completely disagree.”

Oh, he liked what he saw and didn’t want her to know it. Okay. She’d let him get an eyeful without worry. “Just watch me.”

She jumped in front of him just as the, “wobble, baby, wobble, baby, wobble, baby,” chorus started. She rotated her hips four times in a large circle, hopped back just inches from Mac’s body, and repeated the hip-wobble for another four count. He didn’t move a muscle. She shifted her body to the right, moving her shoulders just as vigorously as she moved her bottom, keeping the momentum as she shifted toward the left. She was pretty sure at this second Mac wouldn’t be able to decide between watching her breasts or her ass. She cha-cha’ed on her right foot and did a quick three step, cha-cha’ed on her left, then turned to face the left wall and did a pelvis thrust while pumping her fist at chest level for a very quick eight count. She chanced a glance at Mac.

Eyes locked on her ass. So, handsome liked the booty.

Might as well have fun with it.

She repeated the series of steps facing the left wall. Anticipation shivered through her. What would he do when the class turned in unison to face the back of the room? How would he react when he realized she was standing directly in front of him? She was about to find out.

She finished the second cha-cha, pivoted to the back of the room, inches from Mac—who didn’t seem to care he still hadn’t moved—and immediately went into the eight count pelvis thrust. The hop forward brought her so close to his thigh she might as well have been grinding on it through the four count gyration. As she jumped back for the next step, the abnormal redness of his face made her heart catch. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her body. So she squatted down just a little bit farther, gyrated her hips a little more provocatively. She pivoted to the left side of the room, and then he stunned the crap out of her.

One moment he was frozen. The next he was beside her, revolving his hips and pumping his arms as hard as she was. A shocked laugh burst past her lips. The women around them hooted and clapped. When it was time to hop forward he didn’t hesitate, continuing the rotation of his hips. He hopped back in sync with everyone, shifting to the left, shifting to the right, making many of the other women in the class look novice in comparison. Had he been watching her…or watching the steps?

Maybe she should feel slightly offended at the idea that he hadn’t actually been watching her, but she didn’t. Mac Hannon was dancing. Unlike before, when everything had been stiff and awkward, his body went with the hip-hop. He got down into the movements as his shoulders circled along with his pelvis. He got low into the lunge forward during the cha-cha. And then the pelvis thrust. Ohmygod. Gayle froze and covered her mouth with her hand. Now
that
was just sinful.

And what did Mac do?

He winked. The man flipping winked. Gayle couldn’t stop a grin, and as the class started the last rotation facing the front of the class again, she joined him. She glanced over at him and his dimple creased his cheek. He looked so in the moment. Just free and not a care in the world, and it was the most breathtaking thing she’d ever seen.

The song ended, and she couldn’t fight the disappointment. She could’ve wobbled with Mac all day. As the song transitioned to a slower one, the class did the cooldown, and then it was over.

She wiped the sweat off her face and said, “I didn’t know you knew how to wobble.”

“I didn’t.”

So, he’d just been watching her to learn the steps. Bummer. “You picked that up pretty quickly.”

He shrugged slightly, his lips curving downward. “Weren’t a lot of moves to learn. I used to do a lot of those types of dances. I can do Cotton-eyed Joe, Tush Push, and the Cupid Shuffle.”

“Seriously?”

“And that surprises you, why?”

A brow shot up. “And you have to ask that question, why?”

He smiled, but there was a trace of tightness to it. “It’s been a few years.”

Ah.
So this was a before thing. Sadly, she had a couple of those herself. The before-Gayle would’ve never gotten so down and dirty with the song. The after-Gayle believed in living in the moment. Looked like Mac had taken the completely opposite approach, but maybe he was ready to start doing some living again.

“Well, you sure showed us women how it’s done.” She shoulder bumped him. “So…Zumba, it’s pretty
freaking
cool, right?”

His smile stretched a bit more and he shook his head as he softly chuckled. “I’ll admit it. I had fun. Other than the wobble, it’s harder than it looks, that’s for sure. You make it look simple.”

She cast him a sly glance. Maybe there had been a little watching her in there as well. “Checking out my moves. were you, handsome?”

“Uh…”

“It’s okay. I wanted you to.”

He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Um.” He ran a hand over his head. “So what other types of things do you do to work out?”

“Running and Zumba are really it.”

“
Oh, really
?”

The way he drew out the two words in a slow, challenging drawl caught her attention. She stopped, faced him, and put both hands on her hips. “Yes, really, but I’m always up for something new. What do you want to dish out?”

He mimicked her stance as amusement softened his face. “Just wanting to return the favor. Lance’s barn. Tomorrow. Eleven o’clock.”

She bit back a smile at having the invitation issued in the same blunt manner she had given him her dinner invite. “You’re on.”

T
he gloves felt heavy on her hands as she hit the bag in front of her. What was her reward for taking Mac to do something fun yesterday?

Torture.

Seriously, the man was trying to torture her. What was supposed to be thirty easy seconds of hitting the bag felt like a damn eternity. The searing pain started in her knuckles, traveled up her arms, and settled in her shoulder blades until the entire length of her limbs and back were screaming in pure agony.

Since they’d returned to Lance’s barn thirty minutes ago, Mac had been mean like this. First making her “warm up” by jumping rope. She hadn’t jumped rope since she was a kid, but Mac had made it look so damn simple, like he and that stupid rope were one, she’d figured it would be like riding a bike. Yeah-freaking-right.

Seconds after she’d started, her calves had ignited into a fiery storm that had her wanting to beg for a time-out. Though breaks proved unnecessary, since she’d had plenty of those while untangling herself from the blasted rope every fifteen seconds. Mac hadn’t hidden his enjoyment at her ineptitude, either, which had earned him a thorough sticking out of her tongue. His laughter had boomed through the room, making the torture worth it—then.

Not so much later, which had included way too many burpees—no one in the history of ever should have to do these evil things—drop squats—what was wrong with regular squats?—then he’d strapped some thingamajig around her waist that was attached to a flipping huge-ass weight, and made her run across the barn—these men were nuts—before shuffling her onto the bag.

“Done.” He clicked a timer he held in his hand.

She groaned and dropped her arms. “You’re a complete ass, you know that?”

Mac grinned. “What? The poor girly-girl can’t keep up?”

At having her words from earlier tossed back at her, she chuckled softly. “This girly-girl can think of a few better ways to work up a sweat than killing my arms.” She ripped off her gloves, tossed them on the ground, and walked the tips of her fingers across his forearm. “Come on, handsome, why don’t you show me some body-to-body combat?”

Red crept into Mac’s face. God, he was so easy. With a grin, she dropped her hands and went over to the black mat covering the middle of the floor. “I’ve watched Lance train a few times. How about putting me in one of those holds and letting me squirm around?”

“You’ve watched Lance train?”

That
was what he took from her suggestion? Jeez. “Skylar likes to watch him. I’ve sat in a couple of times.”