Steve looked at the clock on his phone and realized he had just over an hour to be at Mireille's gym. He tried to get his head back into where he was with her. Looking at the bottles of wine he knew she had been thinking of him romantically, precisely as he had planned. But his own thoughts were distracted by what had just happened with Kate. He was fairly sure Caia would not hold his meeting with Kate there in the hotel room against him. At least if he positively progressed toward what she wanted so badly done to her sister.

As he went into the bath to shower the pool water off him, he couldn't get the image of Kate's affectionate eyes capturing his—both at the pool and there in his room, out of his mind. Was it possible that their chance meeting in Santa Barbara could develop into something solid and lasting? And unpredictably in the midst of the crazy assignment he had taken on? He knew he could not dwell on that any longer and just hoped Kate was satisfied that Caia's presence in his room was what he told her it was--merely associated with his work. He was ever mindful, however, of how badly it must have looked to her.

Getting out of the shower and into his street clothes, Steve began to consider what he would suggest for his and Mireille's plans after the workout that evening. He knew from her note and wine that she would be expecting something on a more romantic level than before. He wondered if her comments on her social media page, according to her sister, truly did foretell a willingness for deeper involvement with "someone." If that someone was him, he would put it to the ultimate test that night.

* * *

Entering the gym, Steve found Mireille waiting for him. She wore black yoga pants and a hot pink top with matching trainers and a headband. Her arms and face seemed more suntanned than the last time he had seen her. She had obviously spent time at a tanning salon to prepare for their meeting.

Smiling, she came close to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. After stretching her arms above her head, she reached out coyly and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, I don't know about you, Steve, but that last meeting we had made me feel pretty needy for more exercise. You know it's the next best thing for pent-up frustration, right?"

He smiled back, a little surprised at the obvious innuendo. "Yeah, that's what they say. But you must know the best thing for it . . . right?"

She returned an embarrassed smile and took a step closer to him to respond.  "I do . . . and was just wondering . . . if we're both ready for that." She then went on bending and stretching, not self-conscious about the revealing movements of her body.

A young woman standing near them obviously had heard their conversation. She was trying to hide her interest by bending down to tie her shoe.

"Well that depends a lot on you," Steve said quietly, reaching down to the floor himself with both hands in a stretch. This did not stop him from taking in her curvaceous body in the process.

"Well part of me is saying yes. But I was hurt so bad the last time I took that plunge. I've just been so afraid to ever go there again."

A wave of guilt came over Steve as he thought about Caia's desired crash-and-burn for any romance Mireille seemed ready for. As instructor Rachel turned up the music for the workout, the curious woman next to them carefully moved closer.

Steve consciously held back any reply to Mireille. He understood she was cuing him up to assure her. To convince her he would not betray or hurt her, should they become lovers that evening. The sheer gravity of what Steve was doing once again began to trouble him. It all seemed so cruel. Was the money really so important?

As the music got louder, Mireille seemed anxious to hear a response from him. A reply before everyone began to mirror Rachel's movements. Instead Steve reached over and momentarily took her hand in his. He gave it an affectionate squeeze and she smiled back in a comforting way. The large room then suddenly exploded into a blur of colorful movement and pulsating sound.

After forty minutes of sustained exercise, the cool down began, and Mireille once again looked over at Steve with an enduring expression. As the session stopped completely and everyone continued to walk about, she came over and gave him hug of exhausted relief and solidarity.

"No need to make plans afterwards this evening," she whispered into his ear. "I've got it all under control."

"Really?" he responded breathlessly.

"You're coming to my house for dinner, drinks . . . and a steaming Jacuzzi under the stars. We'll just let fate and the night sky take it from there, OK?"

Steve looked over at her. Little circles of perspiration had soaked through her top, her tanned face glowed, and her full breasts rose and fell with every recovering breath.

"I'll follow you there," he said.

* * *