The Good Girl's Second Chance

“That’s right.”

“Yes. Yes, I would like that.”

“Well, okay, then. This way...”

* * *

Chloe followed Quinn past the reception area, into a series of wood-floored classrooms with mirrored walls and different kinds of equipment stacked in the corners. In one, a fitness ball class was in progress. In another, the participants were paired up for intense stretching. They went upstairs to the second floor and the giant cardio room as well as a room with all kinds of weight machines and one with boxing equipment and two rings.

He explained that Prime Fitness tried to offer something for everyone. “We have martial arts for all ages, boxing, kickboxing, general fitness and yoga classes...”

She listened and nodded, just glad to be walking along beside him, glad that he seemed to want to keep her there longer, to be drawing the moments out before she left.

On the top floor there was a beginning women’s self-defense class in progress. They watched through the observation window as a big guy in a padded suit tried to take down a woman about Chloe’s size. The woman shouted and fought him off violently, kicking and slugging at him, spinning away and sprinting off as soon as she got the guy to let go of her.

Watching that made Chloe’s mouth go dry and her palms feel clammy. It made her think of Ted and how she ought to be better prepared if anyone ever hit her or threatened her again.

“What do you think?” Quinn asked.

She turned to him, met those wonderful, watchful eyes. “I think I might want to take a class like this.”

There was a bench a few feet away. He backed up and sat down. She left the viewing window and sat beside him.

He said, “This class is wrapping up. A new one will start next week, and there’s an evening class, too. Starts in two weeks. It’s an eight-week course, one two-hour class per week.”

“I’ll be fighting off guys in padded suits for eight weeks?”

He shook his head. “No. Initially there are sessions on staying out of violent confrontations in the first place.”

“How?”

He chuckled. “What? You want an outline of the course?”

“Can you give me one?”

“You’re serious?”

“I am, yes.”

He watched her for a long moment. And then he shrugged. “Well, all right. The class starts with a section on the nature of predators. Basically there are two types. Resource and process. Resource predators want your stuff. Process predators are in it for the power and the thrill. They want to mess you over. They actually enjoy committing crimes. The class shows you how to identify what kind of scumbag you’re faced with and how to deal with him. Next comes a study of avoidance, because the best option is always steering clear of any situation where you could get hurt. After avoidance, there’s a section on deescalating conflict. If you can’t escape trouble before it happens, the second-best option is to diffuse it. And finally you’ll learn how to fight off an attack.”

“Wow,” she said, and wondered if any guy ever looked as good in shorts and a T-shirt as Quinn did. And he smelled so good, too. Clean. Just sweaty enough to be exciting...

He grunted. “See? More information than you needed or wanted.”

She shook her head. “That was exactly what I wanted to know. And how do you know all that? Do you teach this kind of class yourself?”

“No. But I’ve been through every class that we offer here. I run the place. It’s my job to know what I’m selling. I want to franchise this operation. This location will be the model for Prime Sports and Fitness gyms all over the country.”

“You dream big.”

“Hey. Balls to the wall. It’s the only way to go.”

She made a decision. “I’m taking the next evening class.”

“Am I a salesman, or what?” He got up. “Come on.” He put his big hand at the small of her back. Such a light touch to wreak such total havoc through every quivering cell in her body. “We’ll sign you up.”

At the front desk, Quinn tried to comp her the class. She shook her head and whipped out her checkbook. Once she’d paid for the course, he walked her out the door.

He caught her arm as the door eased shut behind them. “So, Chloe...”

She was achingly aware of him, so close, his big, warm fingers wrapped lightly around her upper arm. He walked her forward several feet along the sidewalk and then pulled her gently around to face him.

“Yeah?” she asked low, her voice barely a whisper.

He stepped in closer and spoke for her ears alone. “The other night...?”

Her breath tangled in her throat. “Yeah?”

“You said just for that night, just that once. But you’re here and I’m looking in those fine blue eyes and I’m wondering, did you really mean that?”

Her stupid throat had clutched up tight. She swallowed convulsively, and then shook her head hard.

His brow rumpled in a frown, but the hint of a smile seemed to tug on his mouth. “I’m still not sure what you’re telling me here.”

And somehow she found her voice again. “Sorry...”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You just say it right out loud, whatever your answer is. I can take it, I promise you.”

She cleared her throat to get her going. “Ahem. That night, I needed to find a way to give myself permission to do something I wanted to do but had never done before. That night, I needed to think of it as just that one time and never again. But since then...”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, Quinn. I wish I hadn’t said what I said. Because I’ve been thinking about you a lot. And it’s really good to see you again.”

Those fine eyes were gleaming. “Yeah?”

And she was eagerly nodding, her head bouncing up and down like a bobblehead doll’s.

“So, then...” He started walking backward toward the doors.

She resisted the urge to reach out and stop him—and also the one that demanded she follow him. Instead, she held her ground and asked hopefully, “So, then, what?”

He stopped at the doors. “How ’bout Friday night? You and me. Dinner.”

“Dinner...” How could one simple word hold so much promise?

“Yeah.” He was definitely smiling now. “You know, like people do.”