Dead Girl Running (Cape Charade #1)(12)
Obstructive jerk.
Within five minutes, Kellen lost her temper with him, enough so he made calls and discovered he could get the tile to match the resort.
Note to self—Shout at the roofing contractor.
At noon, she went into the spa. The waiting room was immaculate, a cradle of soothing music, low lighting, comfortable chairs, a luxurious oriental rug, the scent of bergamot wafting from reed diffusers and a trickling copper wall fountain. Old leather books, never read, lined the bookshelves, and their gold decorations provided ambience and distinction. At this hour and in this season, the room was empty, and as always, the atmosphere made Kellen want to sit down and meditate.
Instead, she was scheduled to exercise with Mara Philippi. With the enthusiasm of a game show host, Mara asked, “Are you ready to work out?”
MARA PHILIPPI:
FEMALE, WHITE, AGE LISTED AS 29(?), TANNED, 5’6”, 130 LBS. AGGRESSIVELY PHYSICALLY FIT. EAST COAST STREAKED-BLONDE PREPPIE, DORIAN GRAY PERFECTION OF SKIN TONE, LASHES, LIPS. EMPLOYED 8 YRS., SPA MANAGER. UNCLEAR ON DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WAR ZONE AND GYMNASIUM. DO NOT LIKE. NO GOOD REASON.
“Because I have the most exciting news for you.” Mara’s blue eyes glowed like jewels in her smooth skin. Even now, even in winter, she wore tight workout capris and her black sleeveless T-shirt displayed her toned arms, clung to her taut abs and showed off the jut of her perfect boobs. Her only bow to winter was her mottled black-and-brown fashion hoodie, tied around her waist.
“Wow. Exciting news?” Kellen suspected she wouldn’t agree.
Like her own cheerleader, Mara jumped and clapped her hands. “I’ve applied to compete in the International Ninja Challenge!”
“Yay?”
“You were a soldier. Do you think we can get in shape together?”
Several answers came to mind—
You’re not in shape?
I’m not in shape?
What is the International Ninja Challenge? Are you comparing some reality show to getting shot at while running up a mountain in Afghanistan?
And—
When you get that aggressive gleam in your eyes, you’re scary.
“Sure,” Kellen said. “Sounds like fun.”
“Great. I’ll start right now.” Mara bounded toward the stairs that led to the gym. “Get changed!”
*
Kickboxing. Kicks. Punches. Sweeps. Before the hour was over, sweat soaked Kellen’s hair, dripped into her eyes, stained her workout clothes. She stood before the full wall-length mirror, hands on her knees, gasping in agony.
“You always give me such a good workout!” Mara dabbed at her glowing skin with a towel.
“You, too,” Kellen wheezed. She couldn’t help working as hard as she could. Mara’s boundless enthusiasm shouldn’t be irritating…but it was. Everything about Mara—her toned figure, her fitness, her excellent management of the spa and gym—brought out Kellen’s competitive spirit, and every time Mara opened her mouth, Kellen wanted to contradict her, argue with her, prove her wrong.
And why? It didn’t make sense. When Kellen arrived, Mara had studied her injury, given her a physical therapy regime to ease the pain in Kellen’s wounded shoulder. Mara had advised her stylist on a short, easy-to-care-for cut for Kellen’s dyed brown hair, and her cosmetician on the right program for Kellen’s Native American skin tone, sculpted bone structure and blue eyes. Mara was perky, cheerful, and she never overtly challenged Kellen. Yet Kellen felt hostility in every smile, in every upbeat word.
Probably it was her own hostility reflecting back at her.
5
Washed and dressed once again in a calf-length black dress with the resort’s signature blue scarf, Kellen combed her wet hair off her forehead and hurried through the gym.
Mara stopped lifting weights long enough to look Kellen over. “Wow. You still look tense!” Grasping Kellen’s hand, she pulled her to the mirror and they stood shoulder to shoulder. “Stop worrying. Look at us! You’re so much like me, I know you can do anything you set your mind to!”
Standing together, the two were almost identical in height and weight, but as far as Kellen was concerned, there the similarities ended. She was the opposite of bubbly. Her stint in the Army had finished off whatever vanity remained after Gregory and her time on the streets. She worked out to be healthy, to be strong, and could not comprehend the concept of training to win a television show competition. Most of all, she suspected one of them, either Mara or Kellen, was out of step with the world.
She knew it was her.
“What really brought you here?” Mara asked.
What did that mean? “The job.”
“No boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Got a bad relationship in your past?”
Kellen faced Mara and moved close enough to make her point. “Not that I discuss.”
Yet Mara wasn’t done. “You came here to feel safe.”
Kellen flinched.
“It’s okay.” Mara tossed her hair and headed back to the weight rack. “All of us out here are running away from something.”
What should Kellen do? Tell Mara to mind her own business? Deny she was running away from something? Ask what Mara was running away from?