Flawed Beauty Read Online Free Page B

a hand
over her bleary eyes.
    “Have you thought any more about
those tickets? The game is tomorrow night at eight,” he said with his endearing
grin.
    The need to capitulate to his
request was almost too great. But she wasn’t ready to fall back into old
patterns. She was already having enough problems sleeping.
    “Thanks, but I have to work. Have a
good time,” she said as she turned away once more. The next time she cast a
glance his way, his table was empty, except for the money to cover his tab. She
drew in a shaky breath. It was really better this way, she told herself. For
some reason, she felt like crying.
    She didn’t see Jace again that week, and he didn’t play in the band that weekend. A small part of
her was glad, but another part she tried to ignore, liked the buzz of
excitement he brought – liked the thrill of being sought after.
     
    §§§
     
    The alarm clock sounded out its
annoying buzzing way too early. Tate stretched to relieve the achiness in her
muscles. Sunday morning was the worst time for her, as it was the second day
following two very late nights and very early mornings. Without giving in to
the need to sleep for just five more minutes, she jumped up and headed to the
soul-fortifying hot water of the shower – or at least mostly hot.
    Her Saturday and Sunday self-defense
classes were always her biggest. While she was usually reserved and fought
shyness, self-defense was something she felt passionate about, and it showed,
as she bubbled over in her exuberance of the topic. After she’d covered all the
common-sense ways women could use to remain safe, she began on the physical
aspects. Her recommendation in the face of an attack was to do whatever was
necessary to get away: kick, scratch, spit, gouge, or bite. Anything that would
cause the attacker to pause just long enough.
    After her two hour class, she hit
the gym. She worked her way around the weight room first, then hit the treadmill for a five-mile run. She plugged her ear buds into place, set
her iPod on shuffle, and pressed the start button. She started slow, but
gradually increased in speed. As much as she tried to block the images from her
mind, snapshots from her nightmares appeared in her mind. Those were followed
by images of bodies, slick with sweat, pressing her down, and her watching them
impassively, hoping –
      praying – that this time it would be different; but it never was. Glancing down at her
iPod, she pushed the volume up until the music blared so loud, it hurt her
ears.
    Sweat was pouring into her eyes by
the time she glided off the machine. She reached down and switched off the
iPod. Her ears continued to ring from the abuse they’d endured. With her hands
on her knees, she bent with her chest heaving as she strove to slow her breathing.
    With one last, deep inhale, she
rose, and swiped the back of her hand across her brow. Before her, leaning
negligently against the treadmill next to her, wearing long blue shorts and a
white, fitted, sleeveless shirt, was none other than Dr. Jace Staton . The fitted shirt showed off his powerful
physique perfectly. His folded arms caused his biceps to bulge, and around his
right bicep was a thin tribal tattoo. He looked tanned, fit, and delicious. She
cringed as she thought how she must look.
    “Good workout?”
    Embarrassed at being caught at such
a severe disadvantage, she looked down and only nodded.
    “Come here often?” he asked with a
grin.
    She couldn’t contain the grin at his
trite line. “Not as much as I’d like. You?”
    “Nope, first time. Thor told me
about it.”
    Ahh , the plot thickens , she thought. I’m going to kill
the little matchmaker .
    “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she
said.
    “Wait… Can’t you at least show me
the ropes?”
    She slid her eyes over him. “I don’t
think you need any help finding the ropes.”
    His lips twisted in wry amusement.
“What? A compliment from the elusive Tate Morgan?”
    “Hardly elusive,” she