Free Crossing the Line (The Baltimore Banners Book 1) by Lisa B. Kamps Page B

want to hear it."
         A long silence stretched around them, but still not long enough for Alec to think of anything to say. He stood there, in the middle of the room, feeling like an outsider despite the fact that he was very much a prominent subject of the conversation.
         But I don't even like her. The thought crossed his mind, followed by swift denial. He did like her. He'd been thinking just this morning—hell, just two hours ago!—what it would be like to be tangled in the sheets with her, her luscious curves draped around him, her long hair caressing his bare skin—
         "Oh for crissakes, Kolchak. Give me a break. You're as bad as Tim. I'm out of here."
         Alec watched in bewilderment as AJ stormed out of the office. Had he missed something?
         A chuckle pulled his attention back to the man seated behind the desk.
         "Don't ever play poker, son. Everything you're thinking is written clear as day on your face."
         "Shit. And people wonder why I hate reporters." Alec turned and skulked out of the office, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now.

SEVEN
     
         AJ breathed in deep, held it, and tried like hell not to let it out in a rush but God, it hurt. She would not look at him, would not let him see her struggle, would not look at him—
         The weights crashed down with a loud bang, which at least hid the sound of the breath rushing out of her as she grunted in both pain and exasperation. This is why working out was unnatural.
         "You okay?" Alec barely spared her a glance as he effortlessly raised and lowered the weights against his chest.
         His bare chest.
         Double damn, she looked.
         She mumbled a reply, afraid that her voice would sound anything but calm and collected. It took a lot more concentration than she would have thought necessary to control her breathing, to take slow, measured breaths instead of gulping in air. Sweat dripped down the sides of her face and she had to resist the urge to reach up and press her shirt against her chest in order to stop the trickle of sweat dripping between her breasts. Her pulse pounded, and she swore to herself that it had absolutely nothing— nothing —to do with the fact that Alec Kolchak was less than five feet away from her, half-naked, buff, and gleaming in the fluorescent lights.
         Her arm muscles quivered and her legs felt like jelly, and there was no way that was from watching the play of Alec's muscles as he continued his bench presses.
         Nope, she was not affected in the least by the smooth motion of his arms as he lifted up, down, up, down...as the bar came so close to that sculpted chest, as his muscles stretched and contracted with each movement. She was not captivated by the sight of his sculpted jaw, covered in dark stubble; she was not fascinated by his full lips and how they quirked with each breath he took in and let out.
         Nope. She was not sneaking looks at him as he laid back, stretched out on the bench, his abs so tight and defined that she wanted to reach out and touch them, feel if his skin was warm over all that muscle. She did not want to reach out and trace the thin line of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his loose gym shorts.
         And she absolutely was not remembering the look he gave her the other day in Tim's office. The look that had started out vaguely confused then quickly morphed into one of smoldering liquid heat. Aimed at her .
         God, what was she supposed to think about that ? The look had caught her so completely off-guard that at first she was stupefied into silence. Then, as the heat from his gaze seeped into her, warming her from inside out, her mouth came to life.
         Of course, that would happen seconds before her brain kicked in. She was an idiot. She couldn't remember her exact words, but she knew they were stupid and exasperating. And then she just turned around and left.