The Choice Read Online Free PDF

With a muttered curse, he focused on the weights he was bench-pressing. The last thing he needed was an injury, if his opportunity was really at hand.
    His gut told him it was.
    Even though he hadn’t been able to listen to Hafner’s conversation once they reached the club, he still knew. Something about Hafner’s suppressed excitement conveyed the message. His eyes had gleamed from more than the hots he had for Jillian.
    MacGregor, damn it. Don’t think about her as a woman. He wouldn’t think about her silky skin, her curves which fit so perfectly against him...the cradle between her thighs that he—
    Damn. If he was going to be an idiot and lift this much weight without a spotter, the least he could do was not get distracted. He’d gone too long between women, that was all. He had little taste anymore for meaningless encounters, and a relationship was out of the question for a shadow man. He had women he could call, women for whom casual was perfect. He’d better take the edge off before he did something stupid.
    Gritting his teeth, he concentrated on his technique. Sweat broke out on his forehead when he added one more lift to his second set as a reminder. Two hundred twenty-five pounds had never felt heavier.
    You’re not twenty anymore, Drake. You’d better be more careful with your body. He put everything he had into one more lift, muscles screaming for release.
    Do it. Go for it.
    Satisfaction surged as he rested the bar safely on the rack above him, and he relished the burn that told him he’d pushed his limits.
    Suddenly, though he hadn’t heard the door open, he sensed that he wasn’t alone in the gym. It sat at the far end of the house from the bedroom wings, and he usually had it to himself at this early hour. He wondered who dared disturb him in his present mood.
    He should have known.
    In the mirrored wall beside him, he saw the indecision on Jillian’s face firm into resolve. Turning her back on him, she began to stretch.
    He stifled a groan. Couldn’t a man even work out in peace?
    Cullinane rose from the bench and moved over to the stair stepper. Climbing two hundred flights of stairs at level eight would cure him of watching her behind when she bent over to stretch or those long, smooth legs—
    Hell.
    Cullinane closed his eyes and started climbing.
    * * *
    Jillian wished there weren’t so many mirrors in this place. His reflection was everywhere, each cut muscle, every drop of sweat that plastered his sleeveless top against that broad chest, the way his knit gym shorts molded and cupped—
    Stop it, Jillian. Get to work. This might be the only free time she could claim in a day, so she hoped that this was a unique event, that Cullinane didn’t usually work out at this hour. Could she afford to let her conditioning slide just to avoid being near him?
    He was just a guy, for Pete’s sake. She’d worked out with guys before.
    None of them had made her throat close up like him, though. No matter how good he’d looked in his clothes, seeing him sweaty and near-naked...
    She sighed and resolved to add twenty crunches for punishment. No more wayward thoughts. The man could barely stand to have her around.
    He’d been different last night, though.
    This was the same man who’d sicced two big toughs on her when she was sound asleep, however. Last night had to be an anomaly.
    Had to be. He protected her enemy—that was all she needed to know. Last night had been simple hormones. Hormones could be ignored.
    Jillian squeezed her eyes closed and added ten more crunches.
    * * *
    “Spot me?”
    The husky voice startled Cullinane, so intent was he upon climbing the last two flights of stairs.
    “What?” 
    Her eyebrows rose. “Pretty impressive. Not just a lazy supervisor, are you? You’ve been climbing for thirty minutes. How many flights is that?”
    “Two hundred.” He climbed off and reached for his towel.
    She whistled in appreciation. For a moment, they shared a grin.
    “I was asking