Falling for Tyson Read online

  “Screw Colin, he’s a dick!” Nat broke in, slapping her hand on the table. Andy laughed at her passionate outburst. He clearly enjoyed her strong personality. They really were well-matched, Cassie thought.

  “Not every man is the same, I guess,” he said. “But I promise you, there are just as many men who like voluptuous women as there are who like slender ones. It’s a matter of taste. Personally, I think if you’re healthy, that’s all that matters. I know it sounds like a cliché, but it’s what’s inside that counts.”

  “Andy’s right,” Nat agreed. “And you’re brimming with loveliness. Plus, you’re a bombshell. I think you should call him.” The rest of the group nodded in agreement.

  “Well…” Cassie wasn’t convinced, but the temptation was almost overwhelming.

  “Go on, what have you got to lose?” Alessia asked. “The worst that could happen is that you get the hottest personal trainer on earth. You’re dragging yourself to that gym every day anyway. Might as well make the trip worthwhile.”

  “Exactly!” said Nat. “First thing tomorrow morning, you’re going to give him a call. I insist. In fact, I’m going to check in with you midmorning to make sure you’ve done it!”

  Cassie gave a sigh. Once again, there was no point in arguing with Nat over something she’d set her mind on. Besides, if she was honest with herself, she really wanted to do it. The images on the screen had shifted to another scene, where yet another commentator was interviewing Tyson. He faced the camera with a steady confidence that was utterly compelling. For a moment, it was as if he was speaking to her, those green eyes clear and direct.

  “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll do it. I’ll call him tomorrow and book a training session.”

  “Great!” said Andy. “Can I come too?”

  Cassie laughed and shook her head.

  Chapter 3

  Tyson had spent the morning in meetings and was ready to call a time-out on all the paperwork. He knew the admin of running a business was unavoidable, but he’d rather be in the gym. It felt like years since his morning run, and his body was yearning to move again.

  “So, that should seal the deal?” asked Maxwell Johnson, his second-in-command. Raised by a single mother, Maxwell had been hanging out with the local street gang when Tyson met him. The rebellious kid had joined one of Tyson’s classes in the early days of his business, and the pair had quickly formed a bond. That had been ten years ago, and Tyson couldn’t imagine his life without the man. He glanced over at him now, trying not to let his frustration peel out.

  “I’m happy if you are,” he said. The group of men across the table were shuffling piles of paper. They looked pleased with themselves, which always made Tyson suspicious. Corporate types were seldom satisfied if they were handing over more money than they thought they should. But Max had done his homework, and the numbers added up. Yet another endorsement deal. Sometimes he wondered why he needed any more money. It all seemed so pointless now.

  “Well, Mr. Killoran, Mr. Johnson, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” said one of the men, an older guy with graying sideburns and a suit tailored to hide his gut. He reached a hand across the table for a handshake. Tyson returned the gesture curtly. The other two wanted in on the action, so he ended up rubbing palms with all of them.

  ‘Let me out of this damn place,’ he railed inside. Maxwell shot him a warning look. His expression must be giving him away. He glued a smile onto his face, and one of the men took a step back. He really needed to practice this stuff more. He tried to soften his expression, and the guy let out a tense breath.

  “Looking forward to working together,” he said, and Maxwell gave a tiny nod. Better.

  Several minutes later, they’d dispersed, and Tyson was out of the office and back in the sunshine. He inhaled deeply and rolled his shoulders. Max slapped him on the back.

  “You did good in there; this is gonna be a big move for the company,” he said. Sometimes Tyson wanted to laugh at how the man took a fatherly role in his life. He still thought of him as the kid he’d met years before. A smart kid. Maxwell had an enviable ability to switch modes depending on the circumstances. Today he was all corporate in an impeccably cut suit. But in a few hours he’d be back in sweats, going all ‘gangsta’ on the youngsters who needed to be hauled in line at the gym.

  “Couldn’t have done it without you, bud,” he said. “You’re the one who—” His phone rang abruptly, cutting off his sentence. He frowned down at it, not recognizing the number. Normally he would have ignored a call that interrupted a conversation, but for some reason, he picked it up.

  “Hello, you’ve got Killoran,” he answered.

  “Um, hi,” a voice said tentatively on the other side. “Is…is that um, Tyson?”

  “Yup,” he said, “you got me. How can I help?” The voice was starting to ping something on his inner radar.

  “I…um…it’s um…Cassie?” she said it like a question. “We met at the gym the other day? You gave me your card.”

  Tyson stopped midstride. “Oh, hey! Yeah…hi, Cassie…” Maxwell was looking at him strangely. “I’m glad you called. How are you doing?” For some reason, his heart was in his throat.

  “Well…you said I should call about…um training? Oh, and I’m good, thanks,” she said awkwardly.

  “Great! That’s good…good,” he said, also awkwardly. “Yeah, training, that’s good.” ‘Oh geez, Killoran…Good?’ He felt like an ass. He waved a hand at Maxwell, urging him to go ahead to the car. He didn’t need any more pressure on this conversation, and Maxwell’s increasingly amused expression was grating his nerves. The man shrugged and headed off.

  “So, um…when would suit you?” Cassie asked. His mind spun for a moment. Now would be great! But he couldn’t say that.

  “How about…ahhh, this evening?” he said. “I’ve got classes scheduled at your club this afternoon.” He didn’t. “You can come after. How does 5.30 suit you?” He heard shuffling as if she was flipping a diary or something. Of course, she was busy…she wasn’t just going to drop everything to work out.

  “That’s fine,” he heard her say, and he almost gave a sigh of relief. “Should I go through to the…to the boxing classes?”

  “No, we can meet in one of the consultation rooms,” he said. “I’ll need to do an assessment first.” He heard more shuffling. She cleared her throat.

  “Um…okay…that sounds good. I’ll see you at 5.30,” she said.

  “I’m really looking forward to it,” he said. Too much?

  “Yes…bye,” she said.

  “By—” he began. But he was talking into air.

  ✽✽✽

  Cassie put the phone down and stared at it as the screen faded to black. She felt lightheaded.

  She’d done it!

  She’d made the call. She couldn’t remember when last she’d struggled so much to dial a number – it was like being a teenager again. Probably didn’t help that the man was a sporting celebrity…not to mention next-level hot; she cut herself some slack. She’d felt sick with nerves while she built up the courage, but she knew Nat would never leave her alone if she didn’t.

  As if reading her mind, her phone pinged to life.

  And? Did you do it??

  It was Nat, of course. Her phone pinged five more times with the same message. The woman was a nutjob.

  Yes. Just put the phone down. Got an appointment tonight.

  Her phone rang the next instant.

  “You are a rockstar!” shrieked Nat. Cassie grinned. She was beginning to feel a little giddy with relief. “What did he say? How did he sound? Was he excited?”

  “It was just a phone call, Nat,” Cassie laughed. “He sounded…busy, I guess.” Her brow furrowed briefly. She couldn’t describe how he’d sounded. Distracted? She must have caught him at a bad time. She cringed inwardly then stopped herself. If he were that busy, he wouldn’t have answered.

  “So when are you going? Dish the details, sweetie!” N
at pressed.

  “This evening at 5.30,” Cassie said. “I have to have an assessment.” She wondered what that meant, starting to grow a little apprehensive.

  “Ask her if I can go with,” a male voice joined from the background. Andy.

  “Hush, you!” Nat said back.

  “What’s Andy doing there?” Cassie asked.

  “That’s not important right now. We’re talking about you,” her friend replied.

  “Nat…?” Cassie’s tone was mildly warning.

  “Okay, he stayed over last night,” Nat said quickly. Cassie’s friend ran her therapy practice from a small home office, and Andy’s security consultancy gave him a fair amount of flexibility.

  “Ooh, you sly dog! Now who needs to dish details?” Cassie teased.

  “Did she say if I could go with to meet Tyson ‘The Killer’ Killoran?” Andy’s voice came again. Cassie laughed.

  “Cut it out, darling,” Nat said to him before returning to her conversation with Cassie. “Okay, I’m going to call you again tonight. I want to know all about it. Now get back to work. Byeee!” She ended the conversation before Cassie could reply. Cassie smiled and shook her head.

  Then she had a tiny moment of panic about what to expect that evening.

  ✽✽✽

  A soft knock at the door stopped Tyson in his tracks. He’d been pacing across the office for fifteen minutes. He glanced down at the time – 5.30 on the dot. She was punctual.

  “It’s open,” he called out, trying to keep the tension out of his voice. The door opened tentatively, and Cassie stood in the doorway. Tyson set his teeth to stop his mouth from dropping open. She’d obviously come straight from the office and was still in her work clothes. A pin-striped pencil skirt brushed the top of her knees. The matching jacket was unbuttoned to reveal a crisp white cotton shirt. Wall Street chic. He’d never known he had a thing for corporate women. He did now.

  “Hi,” she said, still standing in the doorway. She had a gym bag in one hand. “I wasn’t sure if I should change?”

  “Come on in,” he said. “No need to change. We just need to get your stats and run through a questionnaire.” He nodded over at a scale in the corner, and her throat worked.

  “Sure,” she said, stepping in and setting her bag beside a chair near the small desk in the middle of the room. “Shall I sit down?” The walls were papered with giant posters of muscular bodies. Women in bikinis tensed toned abdomens while holding weights. ‘Damn idiotic. Who works out in a bikini?’ he thought with annoyance, suddenly aware that she was staring at the pictures. He hated the hype that went with the fitness industry. It was stupid and unrealistic.

  “Step on the scale first, please,” he said to her. She looked at the device as if it might explode if she stood on it. It always amazed him that women set so much stock in these things. She slipped out of the black heels she was wearing, stepped onto the scale, and seemed to hold her breath. He stood at her side, waited for the digital numbers to set, then jotted the figure down on a notepad. She smelled like roses and something exotic. It was subtle and sensual. He inhaled deeply.

  “Okay, let’s get your height, and then I’ll take your measurements,” he continued. She nodded, stepping off the scale and moving to a chart on the wall. He jotted more numbers down, then stood in front of her, slipping the tape beneath her arms to the center of her chest.

  Sweet Jesus, that chest.

  He took another deep breath. More roses… He stopped himself. Made a note of the number and lowered the tape down to her waist. “Just stand as you would normally,” he instructed when he noticed her stiffen. “Relax.” He glanced up, and their eyes met. Once again, he was reminded of a startled deer. ‘Take it easy, Killoran.’ He smiled, and she seemed to soften. He’d been practicing that smile.

  He lowered the tape to her hips. They were standing face-to-face, and her breath brushed his cheek. He dropped the tape measure. ‘Crap…nice move.’ He bent to pick it up, and the top of his head grazed against her abdomen as he rose. She gave a little gasp and stepped back. Her toe-nails were candy-cane pink, and for a moment, he had an insane urge to suck one into his mouth. ‘Pull yourself together!’ This was getting ridiculous. He brusquely measured her hips and then stepped away quickly to take a seat at the desk, gesturing for her to do the same.

  “Right,” he said, doing a quick calculation to determine her body mass index, and studiously avoiding the thought of pink-tipped toes in his mouth. “I’m going to need your full name for the paperwork. Cassie? That’s short for…Cassandra?”

  She looked sheepish for a second. “Cassiopeia,” she said eventually, as if the word was torn from her.

  He blinked. That was unexpected. “Cassiopeia…like the constellation?” he asked.

  She nodded, gave a rueful smile. “My mom was a bit of an astronomy buff when I was born,” she explained. He smiled and wrote the name down, thankful that he’d developed a similar interest as a teen. He loved the night sky, could spend hours identifying the different constellations. “Cataldi,” she added. “My surname. It’s Cataldi.” He wrote it down too.

  Cassiopeia Cataldi. School must have been brutal.

  ‘Tyson’ wasn’t easy either. If he hadn’t naturally gravitated to boxing, he would have had to become one just to defend himself. “Interesting…” he said, because he was interested. “Is that…Spanish?”

  “Italian,” she said. Tyson nodded. ‘Explains the accent. Kinda,’ he thought. He still couldn’t put his finger on it but didn’t press.

  “Okay, any health issues? Allergies? Chronic conditions?” He ran through a list of possible ailments, checking off the ‘No’ boxes as she shook her head for each. “Injuries or surgeries,” he went on, glancing up at her.

  “Um…I had a couple of surgeries a few years back,” she said.

  “Uh-huh,” he said, still writing. “What for?” He’d covered a full range of medical issues when he’d done his Masters in Exercise Physiology. He was always amazed at how many people took on exercise programs without understanding all of the issues at play. She hadn’t answered yet, and he glanced up. Her cheeks had a pink tinge.

  “Umm…I had a laparotomy a few years back,” her voice had dropped, and he couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or if it was a touchy subject. The surgery may well have been directed at issues with her reproductive organs.

  “That’s a pretty extreme procedure.” He kept his voice as neutral as possible. He recognized the terminology – the operation was a doozy – an incision that essentially laid bare her stomach cavity. “Were there any recovery issues?”

  “Well, when I went in, it was meant to be a routine laparoscopy, but there were complications. From what they told me, they had to make an emergency incision, and it wasn’t very…tidy.” She shrugged. “It’s okay now.” He could imagine it wasn’t.

  “Can you show me where?” he asked. She swept her hand in a motion that spanned the width of her abdomen. He raised an eyebrow. That would have been a shock. Going in for a surgery that should have left a couple of tiny belly button scars and coming out, cut from hip to hip.

  “Okay, let’s take a look. Could you stand up, please?” He headed around the desk to where she was now standing, looking apprehensive. He dropped to his haunches in front of her and noted the angle of her hips, then glanced up at her. “May I?” He gestured to the top of her skirt. She nodded, still seeming uncertain, then reached back and unzipped the waistband so he could slide his fingers beneath. He ran his fingertips firmly over her hips into the curves of her hipbones. She sucked in a breath. “Is that painful?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “More like…numb?”

  Nerve damage. He nodded. “Okay, raise your right leg out to the side,” he instructed, and she responded. “Now, your left.” He waited. Waited more. “Raise your left leg.”

  “Um…I am?” she answered, then looked down and gave a sheepish chuckle. “At least, I thought I was.”

  “Do you
ever get back pain?” he asked, running his hands around to her lower back and pressing. She seemed to flinch and draw away. “I’m sorry,” he added quickly.

  “No, it’s fine. Yes, I often do. Specifically on the left,” she answered.

  “Dull or sharp?” he continued, moving his hands forward again, concentrating on her left hip. He stroked his fingertips down into the hollow between her hip and her groin, pressing along the muscles and tendons there. She made a little sound, and he looked up. She’d fixed her eyes on a point behind him on the wall.