Still Loving You - Sheryl Lister The Grays of Los Angeles

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of her shapely backside in a pair of navy slacks that clung enticingly to her curves. The familiar scent of the soft citrusy fragrance she always wore wafted across his nose, and he closed his eyes briefly to block out the unwanted memories.

      “Are you okay?”

      Malcolm opened his eyes and met her concerned gaze. “Fine,” he said tersely.

      Lauren regarded him thoughtfully. “It’s good to see you, Malcolm. I’m happy you’ve been able to live your dream.”

      “Thanks.” Too bad he couldn’t say the same about her. “Let’s get this over with.”

      Lauren sighed softly. “Malcolm, I—” She squared her shoulders and opened a file folder. “They’ve already done the DEXA scan, and your bone, muscle and fat percentages are all excellent. For your diet—”

      “I already emailed you that information, so we don’t need to repeat it. My goals are to maintain where I am. Simple. This is my eighth season, so it’s not as if I don’t know the drill.” Malcolm didn’t know how much longer he would be able to sit in this confined space with Lauren. He was torn between wanting to lash out at her for what she’d put him through all those years ago and kissing her senseless. He prided himself on having a good amount of control, but felt it slipping as the minutes ticked off.

      Her pen stilled, and she looked up from the pad where she had been writing notes. “You did.” She rose and retrieved a sheet of paper from her desk. “Height, six one, and weight, two hundred fifteen pounds. Diet consists of fish, chicken, lean beef and a variety of vegetables and fruits.” She tossed the paper aside. “Look, Malcolm, I know this is awkward for both of us.”

      “Awkward? Is that what this is?” Malcolm leaped to his feet, and she instinctively took a step back. “Awkward doesn’t begin to define what this is. Why are you here?”

      Lauren frowned and folded her arms. “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “You could’ve taken a job anywhere. Why here?” he asked through clenched teeth. “I don’t want you here.”

      She placed her hands on her hips and leaned up in his face, her dark brown eyes flashing with anger. “Because this is where I wanted to work. I was offered an opportunity few get, and taking it meant being closer to my family. What was I supposed to do, check with you first? News flash, Malcolm Gray, I don’t need your permission for my job choice, and whether you like it or not, I plan to be here for a long time!”

      Something within him snapped and before his action registered in his brain, he hauled her into his arms and crushed his mouth against hers in a hungry and demanding kiss. Malcolm expected Lauren to push him away, slap him or make some kind of protest...anything, but she didn’t. She kissed him back. And in the way that drove him crazy, like only she could.

      “Malcolm,” Lauren whispered.

      Finally, sanity returned, and he jumped away from her as if he had been burned. What the hell am I doing? His breath came in short gasps, and his heart thumped erratically in his chest. His gaze was drawn to Lauren’s lips, still moist from his kiss, and the rapidly beating pulse in her neck, which didn’t help matters. He needed to leave now. Malcolm stepped around her, crossed the office in three strides and snatched open the door. He paused and turned back. “This changes nothing. I still don’t want you here.”

      He strode out and didn’t stop until he reached his car. He couldn’t be around her for the next three years, especially not now. Not when he still wanted her.

       Chapter 4

      Several minutes later, Lauren still stood in the middle of her office, body pulsing, heart racing and mind reeling from Malcolm’s kiss. Why hadn’t she stopped him? And why had she kissed him back?

      Memories of their relationship sprang up with such clarity she closed her eyes to block out the images. It didn’t help. Lauren recalled every moment of the two years they had dated. But she couldn’t let herself get caught up. She startled at the knock on her door. She glanced down at her watch. It was time for her next client. As she crossed the office to open the door, Lauren told herself she had a job to do, and that was the only thing she planned to focus on. She beckoned her next client in and, putting Malcolm out of her mind, sat and focused her attention where it needed to be—on her work.

      Lauren didn’t leave her office until after seven that evening and was back in the office at six Friday morning. She had her rookie training session at nine and wanted to make sure she had everything ready. At eight thirty, she met one of the office staff members in the room she’d be using, which happened to be a smaller version of the auditorium she had been in the first day. The woman gave Lauren instructions on how to work the video and audio equipment and departed. Lauren had just finished laying out the materials she wanted each player to take on his way out and making sure her presentation was on the correct page when the players started drifting in. At precisely nine, she began with an overview of nutrition and how it impacted performance.

      “How many of you eat vegetables at least three times a day? No one? How about twice?” Lauren glanced around the room. Only two of the ten men in the room raised their hands. “Once?” Another three hands went up. She had her work cut out for her.

      “I’m a defensive lineman and need these pounds. I can’t tackle anybody if I’m all skinny and half-starved,” a young man she hadn’t met with called out.

      “What’s your name?”

      “Brent Carroll.”

      “Well, Brent, you won’t be able to tackle anyone if you’re winded after five minutes or you can’t move around fluidly and catch your opponent because your body is weighed down by all the useless high-fat calories you’ve consumed.”

      Low murmuring and deep chuckles sounded in the room.

      “The goal here is to still meet your caloric needs, but with foods that will truly make you a beast on the field.” A deafening roar went up, and she laughed. “Okay, so I guess that means you’re ready to—” Lauren froze at the sight of Malcolm standing in the door. She promptly lost her train of thought. She turned to gather herself and, when she looked up, he was gone. Silently cursing herself for letting him rattle her, she turned her attention back to the waiting group and continued with her presentation. She heard a few grumbles and then gradually saw some nods. “Nigel and I have come up with some menus that incorporate more whole grains, vegetables and fresh fruits earlier in the day, along with the proteins to fuel your workouts. I’m going to add pre-and postworkout snacks, as well. For dinner, the emphasis will be on proteins and vegetables and lighter on the carbs, since you won’t need them while you sleep. Any questions?” She acknowledged a blond-haired young man who looked to be barely out of high school.

      “At first, I thought you were going to be putting us on a diet, but you’re not, huh?”

      Lauren smiled. “Well, not in the way you’re thinking. No. The team and your fans are counting on you to get the job done on the field. I’m going to make sure you get it done off the field. And even when you’re done playing football, you’ll still be healthy.” She took a few more questions, passed out the materials and scheduled each of those she hadn’t seen for appointments. She had included sample meal plans and suggested shopping guidelines in the pamphlet, as well as her contact information should they have questions.

      She had two clients to see after the session, including Omar Drummond, Malcolm’s brother-in-law. Lauren found the gorgeous receiver far more pleasant than she expected, knowing how much Morgan disliked Lauren. Afterward, she spent the remainder of the day consulting with Nigel. She mentioned her earlier session with the rookies, to which he responded, “Hallelujah! Finally, someone who gets it.”

      At five thirty, she locked her desk and files, packed up her tote and slung it, along with her purse, on her shoulder and headed out to her car.

      “Lauren, you have a minute?”

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