Treading Lightly. Elise Lanier
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Название: Treading Lightly
Автор: Elise Lanier
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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She looked up at the TVs and winced. Talking, walking and breathing were causing enough problems for her; trying to ignore all that noise, when she was used to only one form of stimulation at a time, was really grating on her nerves.
“You want them off?” he said, following her gaze, his breathing now regular since he was cooling down.
“You can do that?”
“What?”
“Shut them off?” she said with amazement.
“Well, sure,” he said with a hearty chuckle.
His deep chuckle unnerved and annoyed her. She hadn’t noticed the deep timbre of his voice before, which might have been because he was gasping, snorting, panting and making other disgusting noises, but now that she’d noticed it, she wasn’t too pleased. She was more comfortable with him when he was offensive and disgusting.
And also, who had died and left him boss of the gym televisions? And more irritatingly, why, in God’s name, hadn’t he offered sooner?
He picked up a remote, turned his back to her—a nice back with broad shoulders, she noted for the first time—pointed the remote at the left-hand set and pressed. With a blip of static, it shut off. Ah.
And now there was one. He turned to her and held out the remote.
It must be some kind of gym etiquette thing. The person on the side of the television got to decide what to watch or when to turn it off.
“The power button’s on the top right,” he offered while still holding the little device out to her. “The channel buttons are on the lower right. And the volume controls are on the lower left,” he said, without looking at the remote control. He’d obviously used it before.
Truthfully she would have grabbed the thing and shut it off in an instant, but at the moment—as with all the moments when she was aboard a treadmill—she was hanging on for dear life and couldn’t let go of one hand without spinning out of control like a demented top gone berserk before falling off the damn machine.
Think of rowing a boat with only one arm. You would just spin in a circle. Except on a treadmill, you would spin for a millisecond before you got thrown like a rodeo rider off a bronco. Don’t ask how she knew this. She just did. She still had the black-and-blue marks to prove it. Although they were a purplish-yellow by now. So she shook her head. “No. You do the honors.” Unquestionably in system overload, she choked on her last breath. “Please.”
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