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pressing into the bottom of her thigh, increasing his pressure even though she let out a hiss of pain. “It’s got you from toe to torso, doesn’t it? Probably hurts a bit.”
    She glowered. “You think?”
    “Don’t get testy. I’m trying to help.”
    “By turning your fingers into binder clips? Owww!” She tried to yank away as his grip found the meat of her cramp. But he locked his other hand to her ankle, securing her leg in place. “Please…stop…trying to help!”
    The man only focused deeper on her muscle. If she weren’t in such pain, Rose would’ve enjoyed this chance to see him at a closer angle. His face, slightly tanned, had enticing smile and laugh lines at his temples and cheeks. His skin gleamed a little from his workout, as did the gym-ad muscles of his arms and chest, which she had no choice but to notice thanks to his fitted gray tank top. He was power and grace combined, a man sure of where his body fit in the world, of where he fit in the world. She hoped a little of it would seep into her by osmosis, as he continued the relentless pressure on her leg. To feel like she fit—anywhere—seemed the magic unicorn of her life. Unattainable.
    “Do you get these cramps a lot?”
    His tone remained as clinical as his scrutiny, so the answering blip in her heart rate made no sense at all. “Only when I don’t warm up enough before a run.”
    “And you didn’t warm up this time? Why?”
    “I—” Needed to get away from thinking about you . “I was impatient to get started.”
    A smirk curved his lips.
    “What?”
    He paused his ministrations to her cramp. Actually, it had ceased being a cramp. Surely he knew that too, having felt her muscles loosen, but he didn’t move his hands. With his fingers still pressed to her thigh and calf, he explained, “You. Impatient. It makes sense now that I know you a little better, but it’s a far cry from three days ago.”
    “Oh?” She tried pulling away. He just held on tighter. “I’m funny now, huh?”
    “In a number of enticing ways, yes.”
    The creases at his temples deepened, officially taking his face from distracting to captivating. “When I first saw you come into the classroom on Monday, I thought of a Victorian cameo,” he went on. “A lady of the aristocracy. You moved like you had books on your head and not a care in the world.”
    He spoke the words as caresses, but they wreaked the opposite effect on her composure. Guilt punched in. Without even trying, she’d let someone down again. And that someone was him. For some reason, that was the worst part of it. “Well, sorry for the disappointment,” she snapped.
    “I didn’t say I was disappointed.”
    “Good.” She had no idea why she still felt so defensive. Or nervous. “Impatience isn’t a sin.”
    “You’re right. It’s not. It can even be helpful, given the situation.” His features tightened, and his gaze, burning with all the colors of the hazel spectrum, narrowed. “But one of those situations isn’t neglecting your well-being, Rose. You should have warmed up before running. You got off easy; this is only a couple of cramps. What if you’d seriously injured yourself? What if—”
    “All right, all right.” She held up her hands. “Got it, Coach.”
    The second the nickname popped out of her, his expression went from irked to thunderous. He dropped his hands and stood. “I’m glad you do, brat.”
    The word stung. But his physical retreat…that was agony. She only had herself to blame, she knew that, but flipping the anger back at him was the only choice for her sanity. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your…concern. But I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now—”
    “Maybe that’s your problem.”
    Okay, now he actually earned her ire. “My care isn’t your concern, sir.”
    She gave the last word a punch of sarcasm, intending it as a verbal shove. That was why the new blaze in his gaze made no sense at all. Nor did the