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Compromising Positions

Invested in Love

Entangled Publishing, LLC

This is what you get for opening your big mouth, David Strong said to himself as he pulled his baby-blue Corvette Stingray in front of Working It Out, the gym that occupied the street level of a high-rise in the trendy Pearl District of Northwest Portland. He'd actually scouted the spot for a Strong Gym three years ago, but the space was too small and the rent too high. Somehow, the location worked for the women's fitness center, even though it excluded half the population from the clientele.

He grabbed a bottle of water from his bag, got out of his car, and set the alarm. He'd been lucky enough to find a spot on the street so he'd be able to keep an eye on the car. Or at least the wheels — the front of the building was lined with windows, but Working It Out had etched all but the bottom foot of glass. Those frosted windows probably saved them a ton on lighting,

The corners of his mouth turned up as he held the door open for two beautiful redheads leaving the gym. Two redheads — had to be a good omen. Though he had a hard-and-fast rule about only dating blondes over five foot ten, he could appreciate the rarity.

Craig was going to really owe him for this one. If his best friend hadn't sounded so panic-stricken in the message, David might have thought it nothing but a joke. Help lead a couple's yoga class at a rival gym? He shook his head. He'd never been part of a couple and hadn't trained anyone in years. Only loyalty and curiosity had fueled him to show up.

David stepped into the empty lobby. He'd been here once before, at the grand opening two years ago. Craig's wife Daphne had barely acknowledged his presence even as he'd congratulated her. Daphne had worked as a yoga instructor at Strong before going out on her own. He had even offered her the start-up capital, but she'd refused. For some reason, the woman just hated him. It put some distance between him and Craig, but when Craig needed something he knew who to ask. And not just for money, though David had funded the last two years of their fertility treatments. David didn't let anyone down. He didn't disappoint. So, even though Craig's message had been short and completely void of details, he was here, in a lobby so stuffed with foliage it resembled a small rainforest. His gyms smelled like sweat and leather and chlorine. This place smelled like laundry day.

The studios flanking the lobby sported the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the exterior, complete with the thick, hazy stripe running horizontally across the glass. Past the reception area was a hallway with doors on either side. The locker room and office, he remembered. The rest of the space housed gym equipment. Equipment he'd sold Daphne at half the wholesale price. He'd barely gotten a thank you.

A few women pounded treadmills as they watched CNN and MTV. A leggy blonde pedaled a stationary bicycle and eyed him over her book. His radar blipped — blonde, fit, pretty, might be tall enough. Maybe this wouldn't be such a chore after all.

"You can't go back there," a peppy voice squeaked before he made it out of the lobby.

He spun on his heel and saw no one. Puzzled, he looked down. Emerging from the hallway was a tiny young woman, nearly half his height. At six-five, he was used to people being shorter than him, but not by this much. He doubted she was even five feet tall. He stared as she approached the desk and set down the huge bowl of fruit she carried. Maybe it wasn't so massive, it was just that she was so small.

Plucking an orange from the bowl, she looked up at him. Her heart-shaped face made her big eyes seem even larger. The icy-blue gaze was shocking beneath her dark brown ringlets and gave him the strangest sense he'd seen her somewhere before. He thought he heard her gasp before she stared down at the orange.

"Craig's not here yet," she said in her cheery voice. She peeled the orange, skillfully removing the rind in one twirling piece. "You can wait for him here in the lobby or in the office, but the workout areas are ladies only."

His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten since lunch. He'd been headed out to grab something to eat when he'd gotten Craig's message.

"Actually, Craig's not coming. What makes you think I'm looking for him?" He peered down at her, trying to place where they'd met.

An orange segment stalled in front of her pouty, full mouth. "What do you mean, Craig's not coming?"

The scent of orange peel hit his nose, making his stomach growl again. "Would you mind if I had something?" he asked, motioning for the bowl.

"Go ahead." She smiled wide.

He grabbed a stem of grapes. Was she giggling? David's brows pulled together. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." Her curls danced when she shook her head. "What were you saying about Craig?"

He plucked a handful of grapes from the stem and popped them in his mouth. He stared at her while he ate. She knew who he was, and she looked familiar. Maybe she'd worked at one of his gyms before coming here.

"He doesn't want to leave his wife. She's not feeling well. I'm supposed to ask for Sophie." She might be the blonde on the bike. Daphne was tall and blond. Her sister would probably be the same. Good thing this sprite had stopped him. Hitting on Daphne's baby sister would really piss her off.

"Sophie?" she mumbled around her orange.

"Yes, she's the owner's sister."

* * *

"Daphne's the co-owner." Sophie's heart pounded in her chest. At this rate, she'd have a heart attack before she got to the bottom of this nightmare. A minute ago, she'd been minding her own business, studying for the class she was about to teach, thinking it wouldn't be so bad, really.

It was mostly stretching. She could do that in her sleep, and often did for the sunrise yoga class she taught. Stretching, a few strengthening moves, and a couple of minutes demonstrating difficult sexual positions. All laid out in a series of note cards back on her desk. Very technical, and probably very tame, they'd be no problem if she'd already had sex in any of these positions. But since she hadn't experienced any position at all, it was a little out of her comfort zone.

When she'd studied the notes, she'd imagined the man in front of her matching every move she'd detail for the students tonight. And now she stood before the star of every one of her late-night, adult fantasies. Who needed a cardio workout when David Strong could walk into a room and send you right over your target heart rate?

"Really?" David's eyebrow arched over a cocoa-brown eye. "And what do you do here?"

"Why are you here exactly?" She plugged the rest of her orange into her mouth to keep it from going permanently dry. The man had a body that made her want to learn how to carve marble. He was as big as a tree and as broad as a house. Even through his charcoal T-shirt she could see the definition in his wide chest. His biceps bulged beneath the hem of his sleeves. He was a package of lean muscle and brooding good looks that made her insides melt.

"I'm here because Craig asked me to fill in for him." His voice echoed inside her head. Her heart leaped around her rib cage. No way. She'd been mortified at the idea of demonstrating sexual positions with Craig, but with David? No way. She couldn't do it. She'd die of embarrassment. Contorting herself into such suggestive positions with the man whose body she fantasized about every night. She could never. Never.

"Fill in for him?" Breathe in tranquility, exhale tension. Breathe in —

"There is some co-ed class that he and Daphne teach together. Sophie's filling in for Daphne, and I'm supposed to fill in for Craig. If you could tell her I'm here, that would be great." He popped a handful of grapes into his mouth, his gaze never leaving the bowl of fruit.

Sophie looked across the reception desk. She hadn't bothered to ask if there were any messages after her Pilates group. There were never any messages. She ripped three pink notes off the desk.

Craig. Please call.

Craig. Use diagrams, he won't be coming.

Craig. Found a replacement, David Strong.

She plopped down in the receptionist chair and rolled back toward a potted palm. Her stomach reeled.

As she looked up at David, the fear that swamped her was drowned by a much warmer sensation. Why not?

She was a professional, after all. And she'd been in positions with him far more challenging than the ones they'd be demonstrating in class, even if only in her dreams.

She knew more on the subject than she ever thought possible. Every move of each of the classes was diagramed on the note cards Daphne had left. She just had to get through it one by one without thinking that this was the closest she had ever come to actually having sex.

He met her stare and grabbed an apple from the bowl. She laughed, harder this time. So predictable.

"What now?" He crunched into the Red Delicious.

"Nothing." She tried to stifle her giggles and peeled a banana off the bunch.

"I know! The wedding." He looked pleased with himself, as if he'd solved the mystery of life. "You wouldn't dance with me."

"That's me." She peeled the banana halfway down and smiled at its phallic resemblance.

His eyes clouded over. He looked her up and down once more. When his eyes cleared, he cocked his head to the side. "Are you Sophie?"

"Two for two, ace." She bit the top off the banana. Was there a sexy way to eat a banana? She shook her head. She didn't care. Daphne had complained so often about Craig's womanizing best friend that Sophie felt she knew him. Enough to know she wanted him to remain a fantasy. He was way too much for her limited experience to handle. The class would just flesh out her dreams a bit.

"I was expecting someone like Daphne." He devoured the rest of the apple. "Though, the attitude should have been a clue."

Sophie shrugged. Let him think she hated him as much as Daphne did. It was much safer than him knowing the truth. She finished the last of the fruit and tossed the peel in the wicker garbage basket. She lifted the basket so he could toss in his apple core.

He eyed her again. "I didn't eat dinner. Are you going to laugh again if I eat another piece?"

"Depends on what you pick."

His eyebrows lifted farther up his forehead. Never taking his gaze off her, he grabbed another apple, almost daring her to comment.

She smiled. Too easy. She rose from the chair and walked back to the office. She felt the heat of him behind her. Right behind her. She stopped, laughing as the front of him bumped into the back of her. It was fun to tease him.

"Too easy," she said, aloud this time. Playing with him was too much fun to resist. She turned into the office she shared with Daphne. Two desks faced each other in the middle of the small room. She perched on top of hers.

"What's too easy?"

"Nothing." She flipped through her cards. "What did Craig tell you about the class?"

"Not a thing." He stood in the doorway, not quite entering the office. "He left a message on my voicemail. He wanted to stay with Daphne, but she was insisting he come to this class, so he needed a replacement. So what is it? Partnered stretching? I'm not the most flexible person."

Sophie turned, hiding her face as she choked on her laughter. She should tell him. It wasn't his fault he'd been set up for a most embarrassing situation. The temptation was great to see his face when he figured out what they'd be doing. But he could also run screaming and leave her humiliated in front of the class. Better to prepare him and give him the option to run now, in private.

She picked up a binder and flipped through the pages until she came to the flyer. Turning the binder to him, she pointed. "This is the class."

SENSATIONAL SEX!

Committed partners explore the similarities between yoga and the Kama Sutra . Learn how to stretch and strengthen your body for better sex in just five weeks.

"Okay," David said slowly, handing the binder back to her. Just what had Craig gotten him into? His mind spun back to the voicemail message. The only thing he could recall was "Ask for Sophie. I trust you." Damn. Craig trusted him not to use the class to make game with Daphne's sister, the little sprite sitting on the desk. No problem. She was nowhere near his type. He'd probably break her in two.

"I'll understand if you're not comfortable enough with your sexuality to participate in the class." Sophie traced her fingers up and down the black sweats covering her thighs. The heavy fabric hung loosely around her, making her seem even smaller beneath it. "I can use diagrams if you want to back out."

She was giving him an out. Or was it a challenge? "What makes you think I wouldn't be comfortable?"

"The fruit," she answered quickly. Too quickly. Was she psychoanalyzing him because he was hungry?

"What are you talking about?" He watched her ample chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath. She wasn't very proportional.

"Instant gratification." Her gotcha grin highlighted her dimples.

He sat down in an office chair. Funny, with him sitting in a chair and her on the desk, they were almost eye-to-eye. It was those eyes that had made him ask her to dance at Craig and Daphne's wedding. They'd pulled at him all during the ceremony, pierced right through him. She must have been standing on a box or in some very high heels, because he didn't remember her being this short.

"You've lost me." He shook his head and looked down at her feet. They were bare, except for a coat of crimson polish and a silver toe ring on her right foot. Even her feet were miniature. They had to be smaller than the palms of his hands.

"Grapes are the ultimate in instant gratification. Fast, easy sweetness. No mess afterward. Apples are next. Just a core to discard."

He tilted his head to the side. She had to be joking. "So, you think what fruit I like to eat tells about me sexually."

"Yes." Her voice rang in triumph. She flipped through the cards she held.

Refusing to be goaded, he scooted closer, trapping her against the desk. When he heard her gasp, he smiled. "Or maybe you want me to think about what oranges and bananas say about you sexually." Two could play at this little game.

She drew in a ragged breath. "That I take my time to get what I want? Go ahead and think about that."

Her feet found the chair between his legs, and she pushed him back, hard, propelling him into the opposite wall. She jumped down and was out the door before he could even get to his feet.

* * *

Sophie rushed down the hallway to her empty yoga studio. Her room. Her turf. She'd feel brave enough here. She'd been doing so well, and then he'd gone and called her bluff. Bastard.

She pressed a hand against her belly to calm the fluttery feeling. It stood to reason that he might know something about her. He was Craig's best friend. Maybe he knew how inexperienced she was. She'd had to tell Craig and Daphne she was a virgin when she'd offered to be their surrogate.

Five years of trying with no results to conceive had left Daphne depleted. Sophie had done what came naturally and agreed to be a surrogate, beginning the rigorous physical exams and meeting with a psychologist to make sure she'd be a good candidate. The date had been set, and she had been ready. And then, thankfully, Daphne had developed the most wretched case of morning sickness.

She'd left her job as a forensic accountant and joined ranks with her sister. Playing nurse and putting other people's needs before her own came easily. She sold the house their parents had left her and used the money to pay off the business loan, making herself a full partner in Working It Out. She took over classes when Daphne was too sick or moody to instruct.

For a long moment, she stared at nothing, pushing her uncertainty and nervousness to the back of her mind. David hadn't even known what she looked like, so Craig probably never told him she'd yet to make her sexual debut. She groaned in frustration, opened the closet, and dragged out the yoga mats.

"You want some help?" a deep voice rumbled from the doorway. Followed. She'd been followed. Just when she needed a moment to think.

She shot him a glare but wound up smiling. He was so handsome, impossibly handsome, really. Some of the women registered for the class tonight were regulars in her other yoga sessions. They'd want to know all about him tomorrow.

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Excerpted from Compromising Positions by Jenna Bayley-Burke, Heidi Shoham. Copyright © 2016 Jenna Bayley-Burke. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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