Page 69 of What I'm Looking For

Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry again about the change of plans for today, but if you want to stop by to hang out over our lunch break, it’ll be at one o’clock. Otherwise, I’ll check in later.

KATE

After Will left my place this morning—our plans to go on a hike today cancelled because Will had to add yet another fight practice—I went for a run and then spent a couple hours at the office catching up. Roland still isn’t back full time so every time I go out of town, the piles on my desk grow exponentially. By eleven, I’ve made a decent dent, so I called it a day, grab some sandwiches from a deli near my place and bike over to the fancy private school where they’re rehearsing today because Jessica has some connection with it and it’s close to the outdoor theater.

Now, heading toward what seems like the main entrance, I find Jessica on a mat on the ground doing some sort of complicated stretch. I step closer and bend over. “Hi, Jessica. Sorry to bother you. I’m looking for Will? He told me to meet him at the dance studio.”

Jessica makes me nervous. Not only does she pretend to seduce my boyfriend in the play, she’s just so beautiful. Wide-set golden-brown eyes perfectly framed by arching brows, movie-star high cheekbones and effortless black curls. Unlike my unbendable locks. On top of that, she’s confident. And flexible, apparently. Her head is actually touching her toes. Not like when you bend forward. Her feet are touching the back of her head. Only her abdomen is on the ground. It’s like some kind of circus move.

“Sorry.” Her melodious voice seems to float out of her body. “I have to finish these stretches before I cool down.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t mean to interrupt. Can you just point me in the right direction?”

“Sure.” She releases her feet but continues to balance on her belly, arms and legs stretching away from each other just inches off the ground. While holding the pose, she gestures to the door behind her and tells me how to find the dance studio. “They’re probably still working.”

“Thanks. Um, see you later.”

“Bye.” The word sighs out of her as her body releases to the floor.

I duck inside, where the hallway is cool and empty. My footsteps echo on the tile floors as I search for the long row of interior windows Jessica described. Once I find them, I peek through the glass, not wanting to barge in if they’re still practicing.

When my eyes land on Will’s form, I almost drop the bag in my hand. Shirtless, he dives through the space, stabbing an invisible target, his naked back glistening with sweat. From a deep lunge, he rears back, sweeps his right arm behind him and slashes forward again. A masculine roar penetrates the thick glass as his left arm cuts through the air. Both hands hold scary, pointy weapons, and he appears to block something coming from the invisible target. I realize there are two guys sitting on the ground watching when one raises a hand and seems to ask a question. Will freezes, muscles taut.

I’m frozen too, and panting. Maybe drooling. His body is a work of art. Like something from an ancient painting. A warrior.

A picture pops into my head of his bare chest pressed up against mine, his arms ravishing my body, his hips pinning me to a wall. My nipples raise a hand.That wall right over there would be good,they seem to say. This all feels wrong—or at least naughty—but it feels awfully good. In all the right places.

When my hero finds my face through the window, I really hope the fantasy isn’t written all over my face. His smile turns devilish so it looks like he’s seen through my mask yet again.

I wave, giving him a sheepish grin. He laughs and points to the door. His mouth moves and his lips seem to say, “Come on in,” but I can’t hear through the glass.

Hm. The room is soundproof. Interesting.

Blowing out a breath as I reach down to pick up the bag of food that I apparently dropped along with my backpack, I slip inside the room and sit on the floor, begging my heated cheeks and other parts to cool off.

The other two guys are now on their feet listening to Will’s instructions. When they begin to execute the fight, he watches them actively, shadowing their movements. He barks encouragement and direction while they leap and charge and twist and dodge, wielding way-too-realistic-looking swords. One of them stops to ask a question, and Will steps in to demonstrate. The other two actors are quite handsome, but my eyes keep tracking back to Will. When he glances over, I hide behind the takeout bag so he won’t see the all-bets-are-off message that’s likely flashing over my head like a neon sign.

“I’ll be done in a few. We just need to finish this sequence.”

“Okay,” I say faintly. I clear my throat. “I’m good.”

Ten minutes later, they’ve finished up, and Will introduces me to the other actors. Randall is tall with gleaming dark skin, not an ounce of fat on him, and has a deep, resonant voice. Ben has spiky light brown hair streaked with blond and startling green eyes. He looks familiar for some reason.

Finally they leave to get lunch, and Will closes the door behind them.

My eyebrows rise along with my heart rate. “Lock it?”

His brows answer mine. He flips the lock on the door, lowers the blinds and turns off the lights. Daylight filters through clerestory windows, angling across his glistening chest. He stalks toward me, his head tilted in a silent question.

My knees actually buckle as he nears. I didn’t think that was a real thing. “That. Was. So. Hot.”

“I’m really sweat?—” he starts.

I plaster myself to him, already breathless. “I don’t care.” I want—no, need—to feel his masculine body with every inch of my feminine one. “It feels really weird to be doing this in a school and I feel kind of slutty saying this, but you need to take me. Now.”

He tips my face up, brushing his thumbs over my cheekbones. “‘This is very midsummer madness,’” he says huskily.

“Stop talking.” I wiggle out of his grasp, whip off my shirt and shuck my shorts. “And get busy with that sweaty body of yours.”

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