1
“Come on! I know you have more to give. You can do this!”
Carmen grimaced as Lionel, her trainer, hovered over her at the bench press. His muscular body barely fit in the dark green unitard he wore.
Lying on her back, she gritted her teeth with the tremendous effort needed to slowly push the free weight higher.
“Don’t arch that back,” Lionel warned, his shaved head lowering to hers.
Cabrón, she cursed in her head, but she flattened her spine, determined to complete the reps in the right manner because she promised herself to do better. That’s why she’d hired a trainer. To push her past what she thought were her limits. She hated him nonetheless.
“One more. You got this,” he said.
Triceps burning and sweat beading on her face, Carmen lowered the barbell. She’d come this far. She couldn’t give up now.
“Last one. Come on.”
You can do this, Carmen, she told herself.
With a surge of energy and a small cry, she shoved higher.
“Hot damn! That’s it! You did it, baby!” Lionel hollered, voice filled with pride.
He lifted the weight from her grasp, and Carmen let her arms fall to the side. She closed her eyes, letting out deep breaths of fatigue but also relief. She’d done it.
Sitting up, she placed her hands on her hips.
Lionel looked at her like a proud papa. “What did I tell you, huh? Didn’t I tell you that you were underestimating yourself? You did three reps of ten that time.”
Huffing and puffing, she grinned at him. “I did it,” she whispered.
“Yeah, you did. Put it here.” He held up a hand, and she gave him a high five.
Later, after she’d showered and changed into a pair of shorts and a fitted Fit Body Gyms tank top, Carmen returned to the bench press where Lionel was setting up the weights for his next client.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Right now, refreshed. Maybe a little energized.”
He nodded. “That’s what we want. You might be a little sore tomorrow because we pushed you past your normal limit, but I’m really proud of what you did today.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you next week?”
“I’ll be here.”
Carmen left, waving to the woman at the front desk before she stepped outside. Her desire to get into better shape served two purposes. One, it was good for her health. Two, her family owned Fit Body Gyms, and if you were going to sell the idea of getting a beautiful body by working out, you had to look the part. At least, that’s what she believed.
“Where to, ma’am?” Franklin, her driver, asked as he swung open the back door of the platinum-white Lincoln Navigator.
She didn’t actually need a dedicated driver, but her father had insisted she bring Franklin with her. He looked more like a bodyguard than a driver. At six eight, he was a giant of a man. His skin was dark brown and his muscular body had the strength of a tank, but Carmen had never seen him in an actual fight. The intimidating scowl that could take over his face tended to scare people—whether his eyes were obscured behind a pair of reflective sunglasses or he looked you dead in the eyes.
“Back to the apartment. I have work to do.” Carmen hopped up into the back seat, and within seconds, they pulled away from the curb.
Based out of Toronto, Fit Body Gyms was the leading gym chain in Canada and years ago had expanded into the northern United States. They offered group classes for yoga, Zumba, and other exercises, personal training, a heated pool, state-of-the-art equipment, and courts where members could play sports like basketball and racquetball.
A few years ago, Carmen’s father took the company in a new direction and expanded farther south, which turned out to be a boon to their bottom line. Most recently, they moved into the Atlanta market, and Carmen had begged her father to allow her the chance to prove herself by letting her oversee the opening of their two new locations. Surprisingly, he’d agreed.
It was a test—a test to determine whether or not she could take over the company at some point. At twenty-five, she still had a long way to go before her father retired and she took the reins of the family business, but she was determined to prove her capability to him.
And why not? She had nothing else going on in her life. She was dedicated to making sure the company her parents built from nothing was a success, and one day, her younger siblings would join her at the helm.
The SUV slowed to a stop at a red light, and Carmen idly surveyed her surroundings through the window. Up ahead to the left, her gaze rested on someone she hadn’t expected to see at all, and the world came to a standstill. She held her breath in disbelief and sat forward, eyes focused on the man standing on the sidewalk holding a yellow beverage can in his hand as he talked to a woman on the street.
If asked to describe the woman, Carmen couldn’t recount a single feature because her eyes remained focused on him. A black muscle shirt showed off the breadth of his broad shoulders, which were achingly familiar. Was that really Carlos? Same build, same shoulder-length loose-curled hair secured at the back of his head.
He laughed, turning his head a little to the right. Yes, it was him!
The light turned green and the vehicle move forward.
Heart pounding at her ribcage, Carmen gripped the back of the driver’s seat. “Franklin, wait. Pull over. Pull over, now!”
“Is something wrong?” He slid into an empty space two car lengths away and met her eyes in the rear-view mirror.
“No. Wait here.” She shoved open the door.
“Miss Reeves!”
Carmen ignored him and rushed out of the vehicle, leaving the door wide open and heading back the way they’d come. Carlos had walked away, his back to her, so he didn’t see her coming. She hurried, wondering how he’d react when he did see her.
That sobering thought made her slow her stride. She was a mess, with no make-up on and her short hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail. Even worse, what if he didn’t want to see her?
She came to a stop about ten feet away, and with fear trembling in her heart, she took a chance. “Carlos.” She spoke his name in a way that was part question.
He turned, and immediately, recognition sparked in his eyes. He frowned, black eyebrows snapping lower over dark-brown eyes that appeared black. “Carmen?” He breathed her name in disbelief.
Had his voice deepened? It wasn’t fair how smooth and sensual it made every word sound, especially her name. Heat settled between her thighs and reminded her of how they’d been inseparable, how every time he came near she couldn’t keep from touching him.
Her hands started to shake, and she took a calming breath and hid them behind her back.
“Yes,” she replied, elated he’d immediately recognized her despite her appearance.
Carlos walked slowly forward, looking her up and down. Carlos—here, real, in the flesh. She took time to examine him, as well. His face was different—more mature and with a fine sprinkling of hair along the jawline as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He looked like a rock star instead of an artist, but that’s what he was. An artist with a gift for capturing people and landscapes in vivid colors on canvas using only his two hands as tools, no brushes.
He wore several black and silver rings on his fingers, and his wrists were adorned with leather and beaded bracelets. The black sleeveless shirt showed off his muscular arms and made his olive-toned skin, which he’d inherited from his Chilean father and Peruvian mother—a mestiza woman of Quechua descent—appear even brighter.