Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (Glory St. Clair #5)

Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (Glory St. Clair #5) Page 22

“I’m just saying. If this winner can do better, it’s something to think about. I want my wedding to be perfect, no?” Flo examined her nails, frowning at a chip in her red polish. “Now I’m going to my hotel. I’ve booked a mani-pedi for two o’clock. Fantastico, eh? Twenty-four-hour services here.”

“Fantastic.” I hugged her. “Thanks for going with me, Flo. I hope I can get a trainer this late.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll hunt up someone. They’re used to musicians and funny hours.” Flo looked me up and down. “You feel okay? No more sickness?”

“No, I’m fine. Totally juiced up after Trina’s donation.” I tapped on the window and told the driver to take Flo to her hotel. “I know you drink from mortals all the time. I shouldn’t say this, but chase down a runner sometime. It’s a real rush.”

“Ah, Glory, now you’re talking like a true vampire.” Flo nodded approvingly. “And don’t worry. I talk tough, but I’m usually quite civilized. I only feed when I need to, and I’ll pick a nice, strong, very hunky male runner.” She poked Valdez in the ribs when he grumbled. “I’m married, but I still like to look, signore.”

“Good night.” I climbed out of the limo, then Valdez hopped out, safely on his leash. Flashes let us know we were documented coming back. I wanted to show them my baggy pants, but decided it was too soon. Much better to wait for the red carpet for the big reveal. We headed for the front desk again, and the same clerk who was on duty.

“You said you had trainers available.”

“Yes, Ms. St. Clair.”

“Is it possible to get one now? I want to work out.” I leaned forward again and lowered my voice. “To speed up the weight-loss process.”

“Certainly. Let me check to see who’s available.” She picked up the phone and made a call. “You’re in luck. One of our best trainers will meet you in the gym in five minutes. You’ll need to change into workout clothes, of course. Would you like me to call back and make it ten?”

“Uh, is the shopping arcade open? I didn’t bring anything like that with me.” Or own anything like that. Oh, I had some running shoes at home, designer ones that went with a cute outfit, but no serious workout clothes.

“All our shops are available twenty-four hours a day. What you’re looking for is down the hall to the left. Have a nice night.” We were hardly a step away when she was on the phone.

My supersharp hearing picked up on the fact that she was offering to split the take if the clerk in the shop would tell her what size I bought. It was almost enough to make me change my mind. But then I thought about the five pounds I’d already lost. I had to keep it off and keep going. Damn.

I dragged into the shop and found a smiling clerk eager to assist me. Yeah, right. I grabbed the cheapest running shoes, though they were still outrageous to a woman who liked the clearance rack at a discount store. Then I tried on shorts. Size large was too loose! I almost leaped over the clothes rack and hugged the clerk. That would have been an interesting factoid for the tabloids. The medium was tight and rode up between my cheeks, but no way was I buying the large now that I’d squeezed my butt into a medium.

I happily piled my medium shorts and large (not extra large!) top on the counter. I selected a pair of socks that, gulp, cost more than the purple purse I’d bought at an after-Christmas sale.

“Do you have a sports bra, Ms. St. Clair? If you’re doing vigorous exercise, you really need one. You don’t want to break down the breast tissue. It can cause sagging later in life.” The clerk was happily clipping off tags.

Valdez choked back a laugh. Later in life? I was only four hundred and change. But I humored her, grabbing my choices, then going back into the fitting room and shoving my breasts into a binding thing that really should come with a warning label. Sorry, but the only thing breaking down my breast tissue was this horribly tight spandex band pressing my boobs flat. I’d decided to go ahead and get dressed in the whole outfit since I was running late. When I came out, Valdez rolled his eyes.

“Very cute, Ms. St. Clair. I’m sure Mr. Caine will love it.” The clerk sighed. “He is so amazing. I have every CD he ever made.” She pushed a sales slip to me. “Just sign here. It will all be charged to your room.”

I glanced at the total and it was my turn to choke. I’d better look cute. I’d better look like a model for Miss Fitness America for that price. I didn’t bother pulling out my own credit card. But I was going to have to settle up with Ray sometime. This wasn’t fair to him, even if he was rolling in dough.

“Thanks for your help. I’ll get someone to bring down an autographed advanced copy of Ray’s new CD for you.” I smiled, wishing I could ask for a discount. But that would be weird coming from Ray’s fiancée. And would be reported to the tabloids. I couldn’t start rumors that Ray was in financial trouble.

“Oh, my gosh! That is so nice of you.” The woman had the grace to flush guiltily. Not that she wouldn’t still leak my sizes to the press. But, hey, a medium and a large. I was rocking and rolling.

Valdez and I headed to the gym. As soon as we were alone, V stopped.

“What’s wrong with you? You look funny.”

I glanced down. “You’re not supposed to be noticing stuff like that. But I’ve got on a sports bra. It smashes me flat and hurts like hell.” I pulled at my shorts. “But as long as you’re looking, check it out—my shorts are a medium.”

“Should have gone with the large,” he muttered.

“No way.” I pulled open the gym door. “Hello? Anyone here?”

“Ms. St. Clair, Bill Black, at your service.” The bronzed god flipped a switch, then stepped off a machine.

“Uh, hi. Call me Glory.” I let go of Valdez’s leash and pointed to a corner. “Sit.”

“I understand you want to work out. Have you been doing any regular exercise?”

“Not really.” I laughed nervously. Bill was looking me over from head to toe, walking around me like he was trying to decide what part he should start on. I barely resisted the urge to tug down those creeping shorts.

“Then we’ll start slowly. Stretches first.” He handed me a long lavender rubber band. “Put one end under your right foot and pull with your right hand. Straight out from your body. You won’t be able to go—”

I’d pulled too hard and snapped the stupid thing. Bill’s eyes were saucers.

“Oh, gosh, must be defective.” And I must be an idiot. I couldn’t use my vamp strength here. The point was to tone. How could I tone and not wreck the gym?

He picked up the rubber band and examined it. “First time that’s ever happened. Well, reach up with both hands first. To the ceiling. Then bend over and see if you can touch your toes.”

Sure. How about my knees? The bra was strangling me. I felt a warm hand on my back.

“A little farther now. You’re not very flexible, are you?”

I bit back a comment about how none of the men in my life had ever made that complaint. No way was I going to flirt with this guy. Even though he smelled like a very nice and healthy A positive. We were at my shins now and Bill apparently figured this was as low as I could go.

“Now arch your back, like a cat doing a stretch. Roll your shoulders and then reach for the ceiling again.” He stepped back and watched me through a series of what he called warm-ups.

Okay, I was warm. When were we going to work on my problem areas?

“Uh, Bill, I really want to reduce my hips and butt and trim my waist and tummy. How about we work on those first?” I got the look again. At least he hadn’t whipped out a tape measure or tried to put me on the scale. I’d whammy him into submission before I let that happen.

“All right. You’re the boss.” He smiled. “Come over here to this machine. Sit here and put your feet in these stirrups.” He adjusted my legs and I was soon in position like an astronaut ready for blastoff. “Now see if you can lift your legs. You should feel the burn on the back of your upper thighs.”

I lifted. Nothing. Hell, I could no more not have vamp strength than I could be an astronaut.

“Guess you’re stronger than you look, Glory. Kudos.” Bill smiled and punched in a button. “Adding weight. Try that.”

Same thing. Poor Bill kept adding and I kept lifting. He started sweating, like maybe he was going to hyperventilate. Uh-oh. I knew that look. My vamp reality had just hit his mortal reality. Believe me, they don’t mix well. I looked into his eyes and put him to sleep.

“He was about to freak out, wasn’t he?” Valdez trotted over to see what the machine said. “You were lifting about two hundred pounds with your legs, Glo. Way to go.”

“Stupid, though. I can’t tone squat. How do you tighten muscles when you can’t use them?” I extricated myself from the machine. I hadn’t even broken a sweat. Poor Bill was wringing wet. “How do I get this machine back to a reasonable weight for a woman who never exercises?”

Valdez told me what to do, then I suggested to Bill that he’d watched me struggle to do ten leg lifts. When I’d started whining, he’d called a halt. As soon as Valdez was back in the corner, I snapped Bill out of it.

“Thanks, Bill, I really couldn’t do another one of those.”

“Well, it is your first night. Now lie down on this mat and we’ll work on your core.”

“I have a core?” I looked down at my smashed boobs and tummy. Valdez was snorting again but I ignored him.

“Yes, those are the muscles that support your whole body. Strengthen those and you’ll improve your posture, whittle your waist and flatten your stomach. Core strength is very important.” Bill said this like he was delivering the commandments from the mountaintop.

“Fine, whatever.” I lay back and Bill put his hand on my stomach. It was still sore from all that throwing up earlier. I hoped whatever we did wouldn’t aggravate it. “What now?”