***
Daphne sucked in a breath, studying herself critically in the mirror. The red sheath dress she was trying to pull over her hips was turning out to be more of a challenge than she’d originally thought. She twisted, eyeing the back of the dress. It had a built-in bra and a sheer mesh back that left her almost naked down to her thong, but still had enough material to be somewhat modest. Somewhat. As for the zipper? She couldn’t work it on her own no matter how hard she tried. Time to suck it up and call for help.
She could do this. She seduced men all the time as Daphne Petty, global superstar. So why did the thought of seducing one rather stoic personal trainer and life coach fill her with worry?
Probably because his opinion counted, and not many people’s did. And if she screwed this up? She was in danger of losing his friendship. And that terrified her.
Daphne was good at wowing people. She wasn’t good at keeping them.
She studied her reflection in the mirror again, then bit her lip. She could change out of this dress and meet him downstairs and pretend nothing ever happened . . . or she could take the bull by the horns.
Daphne hesitated, then pointed at her reflection. “You’ve got this, you fierce bitch. Don’t forget who you are.” With a firm nod at the mirror, she turned and moved to the bedroom door. The Manhattan penthouse she was renting was big, but she knew exactly where Wesley would be.
The gym, of course.
She sauntered confidently down the hall, as if it were every day that a woman dressed in heels and left the back of her slinky dress open as she wandered around her apartment. Her makeup was perfect—a low-key cat eye—and her hair was pulled into a festive twist decorated with a big white gift bow. She was all holidayed up . . . minus the zipper of course. Now she just needed her date to fall in line.
She approached the gym cautiously, peeking in through the door to see what Wesley was up to. He was by the weight rack, a pad of paper in hand, making notes. She knew from working out with him for the past few months that he liked to make careful logs of what he lifted, and how many. He was always so cautious, her Wesley.
Well, he wasn’t hers yet. She just had a lot of hopes.
Daphne paused, then took a steeling breath and pushed the door open. Her expression was casual as she sauntered in. “Hey, Wesley, can you zip me up?”
He turned, putting down his notepad, and stopped, blinking. His gaze flicked up and down over her, at the hand holding the front of her dress in place, the tall stiletto shoes gracing her feet, then back to her face. “Sure.”
She decided not to try and read too much into that small response, turning around and giving him her bare back and the zipper waiting for attention. He said nothing, but she was intensely aware of his proximity as he grasped the tab of the zipper and slowly pulled it up.
“Wanna be my plus-one tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
She played it cool. “I need a date for the wedding.”
“Oh. Sure, I can go.”
Gee, he didn’t exactly sound excited. That was all right, though. At least she wouldn’t have to go alone. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” The zipper hummed up her body until it got to her shoulders. “Little tight up here.”
Oh god, that was depressing. “I’m too fat?” She desperately tried to reach it, as if her grip could somehow make it zip up. “After all these fucking burpees I’m too fat for my dress?”
“Don’t be silly,” Wesley said. “It doesn’t fit at the shoulders because you’re gaining muscle, not fat. You look fantastic, Daphne, and you’re looking better every day. Don’t be discouraged.”
So he thought she looked fantastic? Pleasure rushed through her, and relief. Maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all. Maybe she’d been missing subtle hints from him that were there all along. Daphne turned and looked up at him. He was standing so close that she could practically smell the sweat on his skin, and . . . it was sexy. She needed to seal the deal, then. Make sure he knew that she was interested. Her hand went to his shoulder and she stood on her tiptoes, tilting her mouth toward his.
He pulled back, giving her a startled look. “What are you doing, Daphne?”
She didn’t give up, just tugged a little harder at his shirt to pull him down toward her. “Trying to kiss you.”
His gaze flicked to her mouth, then to her face. He took a step backward, and she stumbled to catch herself. “We can’t do that.”
“We can’t?” She kept the laugh in her voice, though she felt like dying inside.
“I’m your trainer and your life coach,” Wesley said in a low, gentle voice. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave them a little squeeze. “I’m your mentor. We should have a relationship full of ultimate trust.”
“We do!”
“And that will change if we become romantically involved. Our relationship will change, and I don’t think it should because it’s working for you. You need strength right now, not a boyfriend.”
She felt like crying. All these feelings she’d been having for him, all the longing and the closeness? It was clearly one-sided. “Why can’t I have both?”
Wesley sighed and dropped his hands. “I didn’t want to say anything before the new year, but I suppose now is as good a time as any. I’ve been talking with the label and they’re super happy with how you’ve been doing. They feel you’re doing well enough to go back to normal. Snoopy’s been briefed and she can take over a lot of my coaching duties, and you can hire a local trainer to come and work out with you a few days a week—”