Free Within This Frame by Lindy Zart Page A

moved. She was surprised that he wasn’t staring at his reflection, preening at his physical perfection, although it wasn’t like everywhere he went, he wasn’t reminded. Women had always fawned over him. Maggie doubted that had changed.
    He set the weights down, not in the least bit winded, and wiped his hands on the gray athletic shorts gracing his muscular legs. A band of black material showed beneath the hem of the shorts, which had to be compression shorts. Lance was a runner. That didn’t surprise her.
    “What is your activity level?” he asked, picking up a notepad and pen from the floor.
    Maggie frowned. “Are you taking notes?”
    “Yes.”
    She squinted at his hands. “That’s the notebook I use to make my grocery lists!”
    “Is it? Nice. Very sturdy.”
    “You went through my desk too?” she growled, sounding disturbingly like a bear, or some other large, rabid beast.
    There was important, private material in that desk. She could clearly picture him rummaging through her things in the dark of night, thoroughly amused with any information pertaining to her that he could get his grubby hands on. Suddenly it made sense how he would know whether or not she could afford workout clothes—her financial papers and checkbook were in a drawer of the desk.
    The glare intensified, to the point that her face was grooved in discontent, all of it aimed at Lance.
    “Good thing too, or I wouldn’t have found these.” He lifted the pen and paper with a disarming grin.
    There was no positive outcome from getting too upset with him. He wouldn’t notice, or care.
    “If you were an average person, you wouldn’t get away with nearly as much as you do,” she commented, more of an afterthought than a direct one.
    “Alas, I am so much more than merely average.” Lance held a hand to his chest and closed his eyes.
    “In all areas,” Maggie muttered, thinking of the conceited gene he seemed to have in ample supply.
    Back to business, he asked, “How active are you, on a daily basis?”
    “I don’t know.” She avoided his eyes.
    Maggie wasn’t active at all. She wandered around the house during the day, and sometimes sat outside. Once in a great while she’d go for a short walk, but mostly, she led a solitary, sedentary existence. It sounded bad when spoken out loud. Sure, she had her hobbies, but those were done either standing or sitting. All in all, she was a couch potato.
    “Tell me how a usual day goes for you,” he pressed, eyes on her.
    “Um . . .” Maggie played with her ponytail, careful to keep her gaze trained to the left of him. “I get up, eat, ya know, do stuff . . .” she trailed off, swallowing thickly.
    The silence grew, full of unsaid observations and awkward tension.
    “Can you elaborate?”
    “No,” Maggie snapped. “I can’t.” Instantly remorseful for being snippy, she supplied, “Okay. So. I don’t do much. Okay? Like, anything, really. Judge away.”
    “Maggie.”
    She finally looked at him, fighting the urge to run from the room and out of the house, even if it was hers. She wanted to get away from him, especially when she saw the understanding on his face.
    “I’m not judging you. I’m here to help you. I have to know your history to know where to start, that’s all.”
    Nodding, she took a deep breath. “All right. I don’t get much physical activity. I go for walks, occasionally, but nothing routine. I never use any of the stuff in this room. Well, maybe, like, once every six months.”
    Lance blinked, but quickly hid his expression by focusing on the paper he held. “What are your fitness goals?”
    That one she knew.
    “I don’t want to be skinny—I want to be strong.”
    He nodded in approval, and it was sad how pleased she was by that.
    “With your history as it is, you have to be careful,” he remarked, blazing her with the intensity of his eyes. “There’s a line between healthy and unhealthy, and you don’t want to cross it.” Not again , remained