Big Girl Panties by Stephanie Evanovich

laid her leg back flat on the mat.
    Oh thank God, Holly thought, I don’t know how much more of that I could stand. She congratulated herself on maintaining her composure.
    And then he straddled the leg he was done with, he grabbed her other leg, and the exquisite torture began all over again.
    She managed to withstand his repeating the process by thinking of nothing but breathing and refusing to look directly at him. It bordered on hopeless. His being invaded every one of her senses with every one of his. He softly murmured words of encouragement and support, and his hands overran all her nerve endings. She was certain if she actually looked into his face and he smiled at her again, she would liquefy. She didn’t see how it could get any worse. Until he sat her up, knelt behind her, and began to massage her shoulders. His strong powerful hands were surprisingly gentle. He moved her ponytail to the side to gain better access. She could feel his breath warm on the back of her neck. He was completely unconcerned with her drenched condition. His warm hands sensually kneaded; his thumbs pressed into her shoulder blades and rubbed. She wanted to scream, she wanted to moan. She felt as languid as if she’d just been made love to. He finally rose. He moved in front of her and, bracing his feet, held out his hands. She automatically put her hands in his and planted her own feet on the floor. He exhaled and easily hauled her up until she was standing beside him.
    â€œFantastic job.” He looked down on her, beaming.
    You took the words right out of my mouth, she thought.

Chapter Five
    T hey saw each other three times a week. Holly was always on time, ready to go, with her sweatpants, her baggy washed-out T-shirts, and her wisecracks. She always entered his gym with a calm yet steadfast determination that rivaled the attitude of any of his more notably competitive clients. She had a self-deprecating sense of humor that Logan came to enjoy, once he realized it wasn’t real malice aimed at herself. It was refreshing not to have to spend half their time together stroking her ego. At times he wondered if she even had one. It wasn’t the way she went to great lengths to avoid catching a glimpse of herself in any of the mirrors that lined a full wall of the gym—that didn’t surprise him. It was more in the way that when it was time to work, she dug in, with total focus and concentration, until the set was over. Then, as she recovered, she delivered the occasional punch line. She had no concern for the rolls of fat around her midsection that became exposed as her shirt hiked up when she lifted weights above her head or bent over. She ignored the wedgies created when she lunged. She wordlessly got into every single uncomfortable and sometimes graceless position he told her to assume. And she would sweat, even more than she did that first day. So much so that she began to bring her own towels, although he specifically told her he had more than enough to meet her every need. He was thoroughly amused when he learned why she was doing it. She would bring beach-sized towels and lay them over the weight benches or any other piece of equipment that had a seat. She had read somewhere it was the polite thing to do so she wouldn’t “skunk it up.”
    â€œIt’s not that kind of gym,” he laughingly told her. He wasn’t offended. He knew his places were lavish, immaculate, and state-of-the-art.
    â€œI know,” Holly quickly said, looking down and pretending to examine her fingernails before continuing, her face flushed with embarrassment. “But I’m leaving . . . I’m leaving . . . snail trails.”
    â€œSnail trails?” He laughed again, fully appreciating the visual.
    â€œOh good grief.” She snapped her head back up at him and pressed on, still embarrassed but now aggravated as well. “Yeah, I’m sweating between my legs. I’m leaving a mess