In Bed With the Boss

She didn’t recognise any of the faces in the cardio room, which meant no chatting to the person beside her on the step machine or cross-trainer.

She was half way through her warm-up when she saw Ben come in. He was dressed in a dry-skin workout top and bicycle shorts, every muscle pumped and glowing from lifting weights in the next room.

She put her head down and upped the speed on the cross-trainer, hoping he wouldn’t recognise her.

She felt him rather than saw him. Every tiny hair on the back of her neck lifted when she picked up that totally intoxicating intermingled scent of his body and aftershave.

‘Hi,’ he said, taking the treadmill machine beside her.

‘Oh … hi …’ She blinked the perspiration out of her eyes and brushed her hair back with her hand.

‘I haven’t seen you in here before,’ he said as he selected a programme.

Georgie concentrated on the calorie readout rather than meet his eyes. What? Only forty-eight? An apple was at least eighty! ‘I usually come in the mornings,’ she said. ‘But I overslept this morning.’

‘But not because of a boyfriend.’

She swivelled her head his way. ‘Er … no …’

‘I’ve never actually apologised on a treadmill before so, please, excuse me if it’s a little rough around the edges,’ he said. ‘I was out of line this morning.’

Georgie turned back to concentrate on her heart rate readout this time. One hundred and eighty! Surely that couldn’t be right? ‘It’s fine, really,’ she said, trying not to pant too loudly. ‘I was out of line, too.’

‘I don’t know what got into me,’ he went on. ‘I’ve been acting like an idiot.’

‘It’s OK,’ she puffed. ‘I’m not normally so hot-headed either.’

The silence was measured by the sound of his feet running on the treadmill.

‘What time are you finishing here?’ he asked.

Georgie looked at the digital time readout. Seven minutes! Was that all she’d done? ‘Um … in about fifty-three minutes,’ she answered.

‘Do you want to grab a quick bite of dinner somewhere?’ She turned and looked at him, her arms and legs coming to a halt on the machine. ‘You mean on a date?’ she squeaked.

He frowned at her bug-eyed expression. ‘Well, sort of, I guess. Is that going to be a problem for you?’

She blew out her pink cheeks and restarted her programme, surreptitiously upping her level. ‘I’m supposed to be on a dating fast,’ she confessed. ‘I made a promise to my flatmate, Rhiannon.’

‘You don’t have to tell her,’ he suggested. ‘Anyway, it’s just dinner. It’s not as if I’m going to go down on bended knee or something. I often have a meal with my registrars.’

Georgie mulled it over in her mind. Dinner with a colleague wasn’t really a date, was it? It was more of a professional face to face. ‘OK,’ she said, sending him a tiny half-smile. ‘But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone at the hospital. I wouldn’t want anyone to jump to conclusions.’

‘They won’t hear about it from me,’ Ben said, and upped his level.

Georgie sneaked a look at the level he’d chosen. Twenty! Surely he wasn’t that fit? She blew out a breath and soldiered on, her legs and arms feeling like lead weights as each minute crawled by.

Ben hardly broke a sweat, she noticed with a twinge of resentment. No doubt all that testosterone gave him an edge. Life certainly wasn’t fair when it came to femininity and fitness, she thought with another quick glance at his readout details.

‘I’m off for a quick shower,’ he said as the last few seconds of her programme were counting down. ‘Shall I meet you in Reception or the car park?’

‘Reception,’ she said, stepping off the machine. ‘I jogged down this evening.’

A frown brought his dark brows together. ‘Is that safe?’ he asked.

‘It’s only a few blocks from my apartment,’ she pointed out.

‘Yes, but you can’t be too careful,’ he said, ‘especially at night.’