The Reconstruction of Carla Millhouse Read Online Free Page A

that?
    “I’m going to work up a plan of action for you and I promise results. But hey, you’ve got to work hard and have patience. Follow what I say and you’ll have a body you can be proud of,” Joey told her.
    Great pep talk. He probably told all his clients this, Carla mused, watching him stride over to a desk and pick up a form. Muscles rippling everywhere.
    “This is a medical form I need you to fill out,” he said attaching it to a clipboard along with a pen and handing it to her.
    Carla filled out the information as best she could and handed it back to Joey. He read through it quickly and then gave her an overview of what he would be doing. Then he gave her a quick tour of the place.
    The gym, which remained open 24 hours every day, was huge. There was a nutrition center, a daycare, a room filled with free-weight equipment, a group exercise room, another with treadmills, a tiled locker room with individual shower stalls and an Olympic-size pool. Located near the pool was a sauna, steam room and whirlpool.
    Then Joey put her through a series of “easy” exercises and stretches. Carla ached in places she didn’t even know existed. Before he left her to work with another client, Joey suggested she try out the treadmill or bicycle to fill out her hour. Next time, they’d be working out for most of their hour together.
    Feeling pangs of hunger, Carla felt like going home and having some lunch. Maybe a nice roast beef on rye with a side of fries. Then guilt overpowered her and she decided to take a more positive attitude. That meant taking Joey’s advice and trying out the treadmill. Maybe she’d even get one for the house.
    She spied a free treadmill and ambled over to it, half-hoping that someone would beat her to it. It was a big one with lots of buttons and switches. She stepped onto the belt and pushed a switch. It lurched forward and she lost her balance falling against the panel of switches. All the lights lighted up like a car’s dashboard and the machine bucked and sped forward like a racehorse hearing the gunshot at the starting gate.
    Frantic, Carla tried to get off, but the belt was going way too fast. All she could do was try to keep pace and hold on for dear life as she screamed for help. Unfortunately, no one heard her. Most of the other patrons had earplugs in their ears listening to their iPods.
    The belt continued to speed under her slipping feet and her heart was beating nearly as fast. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold on. Then she heard a man’s voice over the tumult. “Hang on!” He came closer and yanked the plug from the wall socket.
    “Oh, nooooo!” Carla cried out as she flew off the back of the machine like a cowboy being thrown from an angry bronco. She landed on her rear with a solid thump.
    “Are you hurt?” a deep voice asked, as her rescuer looked down at her.
    “Only my pride,” Carla replied, gazing up into a pair of green eyes sparkling behind black square-rimmed glasses.
    “Here, let me help you up,” he said, offering his hand.
    She extended her arm, but she was still a little shaky and lost her balance, her weight pulling him down on top of her. He wasn’t able to get up easily and the more he tried, the harder it got—especially with them both laughing. They both realized how ridiculous they must have looked, with her squirming under the guy in a vain attempt to get up and the poor man trying to get off what must have felt like jiggling Jell-o.
    Finally, he rolled off and they sat there laughing until the gales of laughter subsided. The guy had a marvelous laugh, full-hearted and catching. Each time they stopped laughing to catch their breath, they looked at one another and burst into uninhibited laughter all over again. They laughed until the tears flowed.
    Mr. Tall blindly felt the floor around him and found his glasses, but before he put them on, Carla got a glimpse of the long, thick eyelashes fringing his almond-shaped, green eyes making