Lin Su’s eyes widened. It took every fiber of her being to keep from yelling, No! Hopefully Blake would have all those heart rate monitors and other equipment at his disposal.
“Blake said it’s all looking good, and that last attack might’ve been worse because those guys who chased me scared the crap out of me. Half the battle is mental, he said. Did you know athletic competition is as much about mind-set as muscle? That’s what he said.”
Lin Su leaned closer to him. “You smell gamey.”
“That’s called sweat, Mom!” And there was no mistaking his sparkle.
It wasn’t long before Troy and Mikhail returned and Charlie’s experience was recounted again. Next came Grace bearing chicken parmesan, salad and garlic toast from Carrie’s. Charlie went through his story one more time and showed no sign of coming down to earth.
Lin Su was tired. Just worrying about the first day of this new program, the waiting and wondering, left her exhausted. She asked Grace if she could manage the bedtime rituals; she wanted to take Charlie home for a shower.
Bedtime wasn’t a demanding chore and Grace was more than happy to step in. It required just a little freshening up after which Winnie was content to read and watch TV in her room. But Grace would not let Lin Su leave without a generous portion of Carrie’s dinner to take along.
Charlie was still wound up when they got home to their loft; he was starving and ate as though he hadn’t been fed in days. He showered off the sweat, though Lin Su suspected he wanted to bask in it awhile longer, a kind of badge of glory. Then while Lin Su took to her bed to read, Charlie was reading in his own bed. His was the pull-out couch and he was completely absorbed in one of the books Blake had given him.
It took willpower not to tell him it was time for lights-out.
Sundays were often Lin Su’s own, the day she caught up on shopping, cleaning, laundry. But given that Charlie would be working out with Blake, Lin Su said she’d be more than happy to spend a little time with Winnie and the family, making sure everything was caught up.
“I bet you’d be happy to,” Winnie said.
“I wasn’t trying to fool anyone,” she protested.
The workout at Blake’s was not quite as long as on the first day, not quite as much discussion, Lin Su assumed. But in all other ways it was the same—Charlie was lit up like a lightbulb, happy, excited, feeling very proud. And smelling very gamey.
Lin Su wanted to take him home, fix him an early dinner and make sure he was ready for school the next morning. But she wanted to return to Winnie’s. “Now that we’re so close, after I have dinner with Charlie, I’m coming back. I’ll see you at about seven o’clock for your bedtime rituals. It won’t take long at all and I’d like to do it. Grace, you can take a night off.”
There was more to her mission than getting Winnie settled for the night. After the little time it took to accomplish that, she walked next door and knocked softly at Blake’s door. This could wait until the next day, but she remembered his trainer was coming to town and he might not be alone. For this she didn’t need an audience.
He opened the door and the house behind him seemed pretty dark, as though the lights were turned down. He wore exercise pants and a snug T-shirt but his feet were bare.
“Lin Su, this is a surprise. Is it my birthday?” he joked, grinning.
“If you have a moment...”
“Come in, please. You’re not worried about Charlie, are you? He seemed to be doing great.”
She shook her head. “Not at all. He’s home, reading his books, ready for a new week that now includes at least an hour in your gym every day and I’ve never seen him so enthusiastic. I want to thank you, Blake. This is made possible by you and your generosity. I could never have managed it as well.”
“I’m happy to do it. It’s not going to take that long, you know. He’ll be on his own in no time.”
“And I’d like to apologize,” she said. “You’ve been on Charlie’s team all along and I stood in your way.”
“Nah,” he said. “I understood your concern. Charlie’s not the first kid I’ve known who needed all the right circumstances to fall into place to get going. It’s too bad it started with an ambulance ride. But that’s the past. Onward.”
“I didn’t mean to stand in his way. I really didn’t.”
“It’s not your fault. He’s your boy. You want to do what’s best for him.”
“Some of it is just... I could never have gotten him to read a book about asthma. He didn’t even want to talk about his asthma.”
“I know. It felt like a ball and chain,” Blake said. “Besides, you’re his mother. He’d be more willing to listen to a coach—it’s that simple.”
“I barely know you, yet you’ve been such a help to us. There’s really no way to thank you properly.”
“Pay it forward,” he said with a shrug. “I got a lot of help when I was his age. But I didn’t have a parent resisting—the resistance was all mine.” He chuckled. “I was somewhere between an angry victim and a delinquent.”
“And who helped you?” she boldly asked.
“A foster mother, a couple of teachers, a coach. That’s just a start. Just as I needed something, someone appeared with the next challenge. I didn’t have asthma like Charlie, but I had a hard time growing up. Charlie’s going to be fine.”
“He’s such a great kid,” she said. “Sometimes he acts like he has to take care of me and I wish he didn’t. But he’s such a good son.”
Blake put his big hands on her cheeks and bent down, placing a gentle kiss on her brow. “And you’re a good mother. I know this was hard for you. You were very strong, letting him set his own limits.”
“Oh, I don’t want him to set his own limits. You’re there, you’re the coach!”
“I’m only there to catch him if he falls,” Blake said. He ran one hand down her arm and briefly took her hand in his. “He’s going to do this. He’s going to do it on his own and the feeling that will give him will fuel him for years.”
And then he let go.
“Well,” she said a little nervously. “You know what you’re doing. I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Anything you need, Lin Su. Just let me know.”
* * *
It was just as she remembered—a shiver that ran right up her back to the base of her neck, a fullness in the breast and a little gasp on her lips. It was the way a desired man’s first touch reached inside a woman and filled her with expectation and excitement. Her senses were consumed with the scent of him—soap and wind and musk and a little of the salt in the air. He had that unique scent that never seemed to change; if he was sweaty from exertion it only magnified his scent. His sweat, she had already noticed, smelled clean. How was that possible?
Lin Su was not that surprised. She was a bird in a snare. From the first moment she laid eyes on him she had been stimulated and intrigued. Then he became their hero and the intrigue took on speed. When a man protects you and your child, he owns a part of your soul. But then when he touches you with affection, he takes a piece of your heart.
She wished to ignore him and feel nothing but it would be difficult. After all, he embodied the qualities she admired most—strength, kindness, tenderness and power. And there was courage—he chased down those thugs to get her meager treasures. Maybe it was his foolishness she admired? She didn’t swoon for gladiators but she had a huge respect for a winning spirit, for a man willing to test his abilities. She happened to like his fearlessness. And she appreciated his humility. He wasn’t trying to win her with muscle but with softness.
He probably wasn’t trying to win her at all, but a part of her was won. He might not know that, of course. And if it was up to her, he wouldn’t know!
Well, she was good at concealing her emotions; she always had been. She knew how to tak
e small steps and move with an economy of motion. Her older sisters would tease her and call her “little geisha.” She liked to think her mother had walked, talked and moved in the same way. It was also a holdover from her early childhood fears, from that time she was trying so hard to be small and invisible.
It would be hard to remain aloof, especially with Charlie spending so much time with him. It would be wrong to remain aloof. He deserved her gratitude and friendliness.
She would make sure he thought she was open and agreeable. She would laugh at his amusing comments and express her appreciation. But she would not be alone with him when the lights were turned low and he was feeling affectionate.
It would be dangerous.
* * *
Blake was waiting in the baggage area of the Eugene airport right after lunch. He had already secured a cart for the bags—Gretchen Tyrene would bring a lot. She had equipment and supplies she liked to tote everywhere. Sometimes he thought it gave her credibility more than served her needs. All he really needed for his own training was a stopwatch, a distance calculator, a heartbeat monitor, wet suit and bike. He had a lot of fancy equipment in his gym—he liked testing it and testing his readings to gauge the impact on his race. But he never carried all these things to races.
But he didn’t travel light, either. There were the special dietary supplements, the bike plus repair kit and spare parts, the clothes and shoes. The bike was always a big issue. It was specially designed and worth a lot of money. He liked to watch it loaded, something that gave airlines fits. Always a hassle.
Gretchen was walking toward him, tall and long-legged in her tight jeans. Heads turned as she passed by. She wore platform shoes and a leather jacket and her blond hair was cropped short and sexy. She had a healthy tan.
She was a runner but she didn’t have a runner’s body. Oh, she was slim, but she had good-size breasts and a nice ass. Gretchen was more of a trainer with a sculpted body than athlete made up of bone and sinew. But she had endurance, he’d give her that. She could almost keep up with him on a run.
When she saw him, she beamed. He’d last seen her a few months ago; she hadn’t joined him in Sydney for his last race. She put her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you!” She held him close for a moment and he reciprocated, embracing her. But he knew at the first contact. She was thinking about sex.
“We’re in touch almost every day,” he said.
“It’s not the same as seeing you.”
“We’re going to be busy. This isn’t exactly a pivotal race but it’s important.”
The luggage carousel started turning. There weren’t that many people waiting and he recognized the large red trunk. Then came her red duffel. He started loading them onto the luggage cart. A third bag appeared a few minutes later and finally the bike bag, an enormous contraption that padded and protected the vital parts. And then, surprisingly, a second bike bag. One bag was red and one was black.
He peered at her. “Couldn’t make up your mind?”
“I’m checking out a new bag, supposed to be better. It packed up about the same and it has as much quilting and padding yet is lighter.”
“New bike?” he asked.
“I’m trying one out. And I’ve decided to race. We have several clients in the race. Nigel is coming out to Tahoe next week with the support crew. You’ll be his priority, don’t worry.”
“And what about you?” he asked. Elite racers should have support in the crowd, just in case they ran into serious trouble—damaged equipment, injury, a hold on the race due to freak weather. Not to mention crew support such as fluids, towels, help with transitions in the race, readings for the record to enable training for the next race. The race personnel would provide stations along the course and the support crew would look after individual racers. Rules were strict on just how much personalized support a competitor could receive; the playing field was kept strictly level.
“We’ll have enough crew to manage,” she said. “If you have any critical needs, of course I would drop out to make sure you’re taken care of.”
But Blake knew that was unlikely. In all his years of racing he’d had only two serious problems on the circuit. Once he had a muscle injury and could barely finish and another time he’d had an epic equipment failure—the bike had practically collapsed after a minor collision. It led to the development of the custom Smiley bike, on which he held a patent.
“You won’t have to drop out,” he said.
On the drive to Thunder Point they talked about the upcoming race. “What makes this race so important? Besides a chance to set records or win a purse?” Gretchen asked.
“I’m not going to be setting any records in Tahoe,” he said. “Running is my best event and there’s so much uphill track that would be tough for anyone, but the runners who live at that altitude have a definite edge. I could do well in the water, but... But what’s important is that I have an excellent performance because of McGill. He’s not racing—he announced his retirement and I want anyone who cares to know I’m in it to win it. I’m the guy to beat—and I’m not going anywhere.”
“And if you get beat?”
“That’s always a distinct possibility, but I’ll kick ass in Kona.”
“You ready for Kona?” she asked.
“I was ready for Kona last year,” he said.
And she laughed loudly. “I brought a new supplement for you to try—a B12 with a better delivery system and extra B6 and E packed into a kale and grain formula that one of the interns worked up a year ago. We’ve had excellent and fast results so let’s see if it’s right for you. It’s just a tweak of the protocol. I’ve been looking at the red blood cells of some of our runners and not only is there a noticeable difference, the times have come in stronger.”
“Let’s see what happens,” he said. “I’m in for a trial.”
“You’re the best,” Gretchen said.
“Only because you are,” he returned.
And all this was true. She was an excellent physiological scientist and had founded the Tyrene Institute in Boulder. Many athletes thought Gretchen and her staff were the team to align with, had the most up-to-date equipment, made the most significant strides in athletic training and were showing arguably the best results.
She had also been his lover for a while.
They’d met five years ago. Blake had bet the farm on her, she was that expensive. He researched her science, her training program and her institute and paid her a ton of money to give his training program a workup. His improvement was marked. Though he visited her institute several times, their contact was mostly long distance and virtual—he’d send her his times and readings, she’d meet him with a support crew at significant races. He won a couple and set some race records. That took two years.
Then they slept together. And it was powerful. Good.
During that year they were together he realized they had very different views on love, sex and commitment. Gretchen was married to her work and wasn’t interested in a permanent, long-term relationship that might include family. He went along with that. Not everyone felt like getting on the baby train. He wasn’t even sure he was interested in that. After all, his career was pretty all-consuming. And since he was about twenty-three he’d felt there were a lot of kids out there who could use someone like him in their corner. He had put considerable focus on them.
But Gretchen, who worked with some of the finest athletes in the world, was also not into exclusivity. She wasn’t loose by any means, but if the spirit moved her and the man was someone she knew and could trust, she’d sleep with him. And why should it matter? she argued. After all, wasn’t he doing the same thing? Women came on to him in droves—he was handsome, mildly famous, fit and nice.
But no, he didn’t. A couple of times since first meeting Gretchen, before they were intimate, he’d had re
lationships of very short duration, women he met, saw briefly, kept in touch with for a matter of weeks before determining there was no foundation to support a long-distance relationship. But the racing circuit was tight; all the same people ran into one another all the damn time in all the same places.
Since he started having sex with Gretchen, talking to her almost daily, there had been no one else. They had something of a standoff as he insisted they decide what kind of relationship they were going to have moving forward. Friends? Lovers? A couple? A long-distance couple? A serious and committed couple? A family of two?
Gretchen liked it the way it was. He should know how important he was to her—she put him first. They were in constant communication. They saw each other regularly. Was she ready to be tied down to one man permanently? Why? she asked. What’s the difference? She wasn’t putting him at risk and all she asked was that he not make another woman more important or put her health at risk. She described that as being adults about this.
Blake, who was clearly not on the same map, chose to be honest and told her that wouldn’t work for him. There was a vast area between platonic friends and business associates and a committed couple, and he wasn’t comfortable in that uncertain middle ground. He decided not to move to Boulder, something he’d been considering. He rented a place in Truckee for a while during the summer while he looked for real estate that would suit him better. But in his mind, he and Gretchen had been, for over a year, friends and colleagues. Not lovers.
At first, that had stung. He had enjoyed having a steady woman in his life, something and someone to look forward to; there hadn’t been many of those in his adult life. There had been too many when he was much younger, when he’d just been following his dick as young men will do, and once he figured out that wasn’t going to bring him the satisfaction he really craved, he had more time for his sport. But having a woman in his life, he liked that. The right woman at the right time. He had thought he probably loved her.