“A game that everyone he usually trains with refuses to play,” Dare corrected as he lay back on a weight bench and carefully wrapped his hands around the silver bar above his face.
“That’s because you all know I can’t be beat.”
“I’m pretty sure Jace will make you eat those words.” Sed crossed his arms over his broad chest and beamed at his bandmate with something that bordered on fatherly pride. Toni made sure she caught the look with her camera.
“How does this work?” Jace asked. He didn’t have Logan’s swagger, but the determination in his stance was unmistakable. He didn’t look the least bit intimidated.
“We do sets of thirty push-ups,” Logan said.
“Thirty?” Toni cringed. Her arms and chest were aching just thinking about it. She doubted she could do three.
Jace nodded without batting an eyelash, and flexed his fingers.
“On the second set, you call out a modification for the next thirty. I call out a modification for the third set, you for the fourth, and so on until one of us collapses. Or rather, until you collapse.”
“Got it,” Jace said. He dropped to the mat without hesitation.
“Which one of you dumbasses can count to thirty?” Logan asked.
“I think I can count that high,” Sed volunteered with a crooked grin.
Logan got into position on the mat parallel to Jace. Sed counted out reps while the two men completed push-up after push-up in perfect form. Strangely, the guy most into the competition was Kirk, and he was obviously rooting for the opposing team.
“Hey, Logan,” Kirk said, “don’t you know smaller guys are better at this sort of thing? They don’t have to push up as much weight.”
“That’s why”—Logan lowered his body to the floor—“I picked”—up again—“him.” And down. “No one”—up—“ever really”—down—“challenges me.”
“One of these days, someone is going to knock you down a peg,” Kirk said.
“Not today.”
Neither man had broken into a sweat when Sed reached thirty and Jace called out, “Right leg up.”
“Too easy,” Logan claimed as he lifted his right foot off the floor and continued into the next thirty push-ups.
Toni squatted down in front of Logan so she could get a close-up of his face. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his neck. The muscles of his arms, shoulders, and chest strained with each repetition. Toni had never realized how beautiful a push-up could be. She was pretty sure she was sweating far more than Logan was. She wasn’t sure if this footage would make it into the book, but she was positive she’d review it regularly.
Sed reached thirty again. Toni peeked at Jace, who had sweat dripping onto the mat beneath him, but still wore the same focused and determined look on his face as when he’d accepted Logan’s challenge. Toni decided that Logan had indeed chosen a worthy opponent and might soon find himself knocked down a peg. At least she thought that until Logan called out his modification.
“Clap between reps.”
“Ah, shit,” Jace muttered. But when Sed started back at one, he pushed off the mat with the force necessary to lift his hands high enough off the ground to clap.
Toni gawked at them, vaguely aware that the gym had fallen silent as everyone had stopped their own workouts to watch the competition. As they were all cheering for Jace, Toni shouted, “Come on, Logan! You can do it!”
He tilted his head to offer her a smile and a wink before turning his concentration back to his task.
Both men were laboring hard by the time they reached thirty. Logan nodded in Jace’s direction. “Impressive,” he said. “Most guys kiss the mat by the fifth rep.”
“I always do,” Steve said and laughed.
“So what’s next?” Logan asked.
Jace could scarcely catch his breath enough to say. “One arm.”
“Left or right?” Logan shifted from his left arm to his right arm without wavering.
“Right,” Jace said.
“But that’s the arm you were shot in,” Sed protested. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”
Toni sought and found the bullet scars on Jace’s right shoulder and arm. She snapped a couple of pictures, making a mental note to find out what had happened to him.
“Nope,” Jace said. He lifted his left hand off the floor. “Gonna try it anyway.”
“Someone needs to shoot Logan so it’s a fair match,” Steve said.
Logan lifted his left hand off the mat and gave Steve the middle finger. He kept that finger extended through the entire thirty, one-armed push-ups. Jace’s arm was shaking so bad by the final repetition that Toni was sure it would give out on him, but he managed to keep going. His relief was tangible when he was finally able to set his left hand back on the mat.
Everyone cheered and clapped for him, even Toni.
“Are you done?” Logan asked. Sweat glistened on his bronze skin and wetted the golden curls around his face and neck.
“Not yet,” Jace said.
“Well, that about kicked my ass,” Logan said, shifting to his left arm and rotating his right. “Time for a set of girl push-ups.”
Jace laughed and set his knees down on the mat. Toni wondered if Logan had picked so-called girl push-ups more for Jace’s benefit than his own. She was pretty sure Jace’s right arm had been worked to the point of exhaustion and one more clap repetition would have flattened him, resulting in a sure win for Logan.
After thirty more reps, which everyone in the room counted off, Jace said, “Feet on a bench.”
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Logan said. “It’s not bad enough that you tried to take my job.”
Take his job? As bassist of Exodus End? Surely Logan was joking.
The two bassists pulled their mats across the room to a bench and got into position with both feet on the seat and their hands on the mat.
“Just making sure you get in a good workout,” Jace said with a devilish grin.
After several reps, it was apparent that Jace’s right arm was physically incapable of contracting. Toni had never in her life worked out to exhaustion. She tended to stop when she got a little winded. Jace shifted to put all his weight on his left arm. In a few reps, that arm was shaking too. Logan was showing signs of fatigue as well. In any case, he was too tired to talk smack and had his full concentration on lowering and raising his body.
Jace released a growl of exertion, which gave him the perseverance to do one more push-up before he ended up sprawled face down and panting on the mat. Logan did a final rep to claim his victory and collapsed beside Jace. Both men laughed as they tried—and failed—to get off the floor.
“I’m tempted to call that a draw,” Logan said, his voice muffled since his face was pressed into the mat.
“Don’t you dare,” Jace said, between gasps for air. “I’ll get you next time.”
“Are you okay?” Toni asked as Logan lay on the floor long after everyone had returned to their respective workouts.
“I can’t move my arms,” he said.
“Me neither.” Jace chuckled and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “Good thing we don’t have a show for a couple of days.”
“Not that it’s a huge deal if a couple of bassists don’t show up for a gig,” Steve said from a nearby weight bench.
Battle of the Bassists. Toni gave the event a title in case it made it into the book.
“It’s not naptime, Schmidt,” Kirk yelled from across the room where he was spotting Max through his bench presses. “You need to work your lower body. I want you to do squats until your ass catches fire.”
“That won’t take long,” Toni said quietly. “His ass is already exceptionally hot.”
She glanced up and grinned when Logan and Jace both burst out laughing. The two men assisted each other to their feet, whacked each other enthusiastically on the back, and knocked their knuckles together in parting.
“Respect,” Logan said.
He turned, searching for the squat station. Therefore he missed the open-mouthed look of astonishment followed by the wide smile on Jace Seymour’s face as he walked away. Toni, however, recognized it. She wondered why someone as young and successful as Jace coveted Logan’s validation. She supposed most bassists would look up to Logan Schmidt, the musician. He was phenomenally talented and one of the best-known bassists on the planet. Yet he was so easygoing and personable, she tended to forget he was famous. She tilted her head as she trailed after him, seeing him in a new light. Sure, he could be a bit cocky, but all things considered, he wasn’t like most celebrities. But then maybe most celebrities weren’t the stuck-up, egotistical jerks they were portrayed to be by the media. Or maybe they were. Whatever the case, she was going to make sure that these four men—and Reagan too—were shown in their true colors.
“Hey, Toni!” Reagan waved her over from across the room. “Come over here and get a dose of estrogen. Hanging out with all that testosterone will grow hair on your chest.”
“Is that why you keep stealing my razor?” her hunk of a bodyguard said. He then glanced wide-eyed at Toni before dropping his weights with a loud clang and dashing out of the room.
Okay, weird. Toni should be about as intimidating as a gnat to that guy. Why would he run from her?
“I’m working,” Toni called back. As if watching four hot guys lift weights was actually work.
“Don’t worry,” Reagan said, “we have a good view of them in the mirror over here.”
“Yeah, we do!” one of the other women said.
“Ah,” Toni said, heading toward the cardio area, curious to meet a few rock stars’ wives and/or girlfriends. “But can you smell them from over there?”
“Not yet,” Reagan said. “And trust me, that’s a good thing.” She crinkled her nose in disgust.
Toni stopped next to Reagan’s elliptical machine and waited for introductions. There were two other women working out—one with burnished brown hair, the other a strawberry blonde.
“This is Myrna, Brian Sinclair’s wife.” Reagan introduced the stunning brunette who was running at warp speed on the treadmill to her left.
“Nice to meet you,” Toni said, bobbing her head to try to meet the woman’s gaze.
“Likewise,” Myrna said in a huff of breath.
“Can you believe she just had a baby a few weeks ago?” Reagan asked.
“You look great,” Toni said, meaning it.
“Thanks,” Myrna huffed. “I need to keep in shape to ward off all the pretty young thangs trying to get their hooks into my husband.”
Reagan rolled her eyes. “Puh-leaze,” she said. “That man loves you so blindingly, it hurts my eyes to look at you two directly.”
Myrna smiled, but didn’t slow her pace.
“Sinclair doesn’t work out?” Toni asked. She still hadn’t had the chance to meet the renowned guitarist. An oversight she hoped to remedy soon.
“He has Mal,” Myrna said. “When I’m finished, we’ll switch out.” She increased the incline on her treadmill.
So apparently keeping a rock star’s romantic interest involved having buns of steel. Toni eyed the stair climber with dread.
“This is Jessica Chase,” Reagan introduced the blonde—another stunner, one who made Toni feel like a Walmart shopper who’d accidentally stumbled onto Rodeo Drive. “She and Sed Lionheart are getting married in a couple of weeks.”
“Gotta fit in that dress,” Jessica said as she wiped the sweat from her face with a small white towel.
“I’m sure you’ll look gorgeous.”
Jessica ran a hand over her lower belly. “Maybe if Unborn Sed would stop insisting I need to put mayonnaise on everything that goes into my mouth. I don’t even like mayonnaise.”
So the small bulge in her lower belly was a baby. Was that how she’d managed to get someone like Sed Lionheart to commit? Not that Toni was considering doing that to Logan.
“So I guess Logan finally has a date for the occasion,” Reagan said. She offered Toni a suggestive wink.
“Me?” Toni sputtered. She clapped a hand over her suddenly thundering heart.
“Who else? You are his girlfriend, aren’t you?”
“Not really. No.” She’d thought that maybe she was until Logan had debunked that myth half a dozen times at the after-party the night before.
“So you haven’t spent every moment of the last two days with him?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And he isn’t so possessive of you that he immediately wants to fight every man who so much as glances your way?”
“I guess, but—”
“And he left the after-party alone last night because?”
Was that unusual for him? “Um.”
“Because Reagan is an excellent cock blocker,” Jessica said, reaching out a fist to knock her knuckles against Reagan’s.
“So why is he so jealous?” Reagan pressed.
“He’s just—” Just what? What was he exactly? “He thinks he has a special claim over me.” And only because she’d been a virgin. Not because he was romantically jealous. She was sure of that much.
“And that’s why he can’t take his eyes off of you,” Reagan said.
“Right.”
Reagan shook her head at Toni. “Girl, we need to have a long talk.”
“About?”
“About using your power to get what you want.”
And what did she want exactly? Toni glanced over her shoulder to find Logan watching her as he continued his squats.
Logan. That was what she wanted. Who she wanted. And not just as a temporary sex coach. Or a justfriend. As her forever.
“I would appreciate some advice,” Toni admitted.
She wasn’t the only woman in the room being closely watched by a man. Sed always had at least one eye on Jessica and now that Reagan’s bodyguard had returned to the gym, he was doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t watching her. Perhaps it was time for Toni to employ her cleverness.
“Maybe you can give me some pointers on how to catch the attention of that guy,” Toni said, nodding in tall, dark, and obviously smitten’s direction.
Reagan’s eyebrows arched. “What guy?”
“That guy over there who keeps staring at us.” And by us, Toni meant Reagan, but the woman’s reaction was priceless.
“Ethan?” Reagan squeaked and almost face-planted on her treadmill.
Finally! A name to go with the face. And the body.
“Yeah,” Toni said. “He’s quite attractive.” In an I’ll-rip-out-your-spine-and-use-it-to-stir-my-coffee kind of way.
“I think he’s taken,” Myrna said, snorting on a laugh.
“Really taken,” Jessica added.
Reagan cringed and shook her head at both women.
“He does appear to have a crush on Reagan.” Toni sighed as she continued to try to work some information out of the tight-lipped woman.
“What makes you say that?” Reagan said, her grayish-blue eyes locked on her treadmill display.
“Well, he watches you constantly.”
Reagan laughed. “He is my bodyguard. That’s his job.”
Touché.
“Besides, I thought you liked Logan,” Reagan said.
“I do,” Toni admitted. She so much more than liked him. “I just figure he’ll tire of me sooner rather than later.”
“Oh, honey,” Jessica said. “We really do need to have a long talk with you.”
Myrna shut off her machine and slowed to a walk before hopping to the floor. “It’s been lovely,” she said, “but I need to get back to Malcolm. My boobs say it’s feeding time.”