Page 61 of The Knockout Rule

She walked by her father’s door and scowled at it. Another man she’d have to deal with one day soon. Force him to open up the way she had with Heather. Quit fighting the world on his own. That would be as much fun as wrestling a hippo.

She hit the elevator button, feeling jumpy and nervous. The doors slid open and she stepped inside, her heart already pumping too fast. She just had to get through the casino and into the quiet of the gym. Clear her head. Play some music on her phone. Crappy eighties would be fun, but as the doors slid shut, a hand wedged between them.

A large hand.

Eric’s big body followed, Whit trailing behind him.

So much for finding her center.

He moved to the wall opposite her, barely sparing her a glance. She couldn’t peel her eyes off of him, those thick thighs and huge calves. Hard muscles she’d be digging her thumbs into shortly.

“You planning on pressing the button?” Eric’s voice was a low rumble.

She startled and glanced at his face. The mouthwatering view exacerbated her nerves. She stabbed the button for the lobby, forced what probably looked like a maniacal grin. Nothing to see here. Just a frazzled woman doing her best Joker impression. “Good night?”

His jaw knotted. “Fantastic. You?”

“Excellent!” Now she sounded like the Joker after sucking back helium.

Silence descended. Whit nudged up against her leg. She crouched to pet her new friend, while Eric stood rigid, seeming aloof. Distant. Nothing like the man who’d said I know your dark eyes remind me of the horizon as the moon rises on a cloudless night, and I know you twitch your nose before you laugh, Isla. I also know how you…

He also knew how she what? That unfinished line had driven her nuts all night.

She wanted to ask what he’d planned to say, what else he’d observed about her, but asking would require admitting she knew he’d been speaking through Preston, that she’d loved what he’d said, understood why he’d spoken about overcoming pain to experience love.

She cleared her throat. Neither of them spoke.

“silence

silence

silence

do you hear

how loud that is?”

Ramona Estle had a poem for every awkward moment of life.

The elevator stopped on another floor. Two women filed in and stood between her and Eric. One of them fawned over Whit. The other, a stunning redhead, looked at Eric from his feet to his head, blatantly checking him out. “You certainly make elevator rides more interesting.”

Isla bit down on her molars. What kind of shitty luck had her stuck in an elevator, having to witness a woman hitting on the man she’d fallen for?

Note to self: avoid betting in the casino today.

Eric smiled at the woman, almost flirty, like Isla wasn’t even there. “If I make the elevator more interesting, you need to get out more.”

What Isla needed was to get out of their moving coffin. She was so far from centered she was surprised she hadn’t toppled over.

The redhead moved closer to him. “Getting out sounds great. You free for a drink tonight?”

The elevator stopped on the main floor, but Isla’s stomach kept traveling down, down, down, churning, making her ill. Jealousy in all its nauseating glory. She wanted to step between that woman and Eric. Tell her she’d never understand a man of his depth, give him what he needed. Unshed tears burned the backs of her eyes.

Eric watched Isla, a strange look on his gorgeous face, those sharp cheekbones and full lips too enticing. Even the dark smudges under his eyes were devastatingly attractive.

She tore her gaze away and hurried out of the elevator, not listening to his reply to the redhead’s pickup. He’d for sure meet that woman. Why wouldn’t he? She was beautiful, and as far as he knew Isla was dating Preston. This physio session with him was going to be some kind of fun.

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