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More than anything she longed to get lost in the pages, to escape into
the hearts of the imaginary characters. The love and passion she found
in books and film felt incredibly real to her. The stories touched her like
nothing else could. And most importantly, the characters couldn t hurt
her, betray her, or even die. No, they were perfect. Safe. Just like the
ideal love they shared.
As she fanned through the book, she heard someone approach and
open a locker near hers. Startled back from her world of make-believe,
she tucked the book away and grabbed a pair of socks.
Hey, Monroe.
Hey. Sarah mentally sifted through names as the young fair
haired officer busied herself at her locker, quickly tugging off her shirt
and shoving down her pants. Leslie Carver.
She caught herself looking her colleague over, eyeing her fit body
appreciatively. As she studied her, the vision of another woman invaded
her mind. Chandler Brogan. The woman she had been with the previous
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night. The woman who had been on her mind constantly ever since.
Frustrated, she did her best to shake the thought away.
Working out? Carver questioned, reaching back to unlatch her
bra. Her small perky breasts gathered to taut points as the cool air hit
them.
Yeah. Sarah sat poised on the bench, one leg crossed over the
other, sock in hand. Leslie Carver was beautiful, but she didn t compare
to Chandler. Sarah felt her cheeks heat, but she didn t know if it was
from frustration or desire in remembering how Chandler looked in the
nude.
Why am I sitting here thinking about a one-night stand? She forced
her focus away from Chandler and onto the temptation standing next to
her. The woman was attractive, more than most. And Sarah knew she
was gay.
Me too. Carver moved about with an air of self-assuredness,
seemingly oblivious to Sarah s wandering gaze. But a part of her had
to know Sarah was watching. She was obviously eating it up while
pretending not to let on.
Listen, she said, unabashedly squeezing into a sports bra, a
couple of us are going out later after our shift. She stuck her hand in
the bra, adjusting her breasts. Wanna go? Her dark eyes met Sarah s
as her mouth spread with a knowing grin.
Sarah contemplated the invitation, once again averting her gaze.
She knew she could have the woman and thought about what it would be
like to conquer her. But her answer came out before she even realized.
No thanks. I can t. She tugged on her shoes and laced them up
hurriedly. What am I doing? Why did I say no?
Her colleague took it well, almost as if she expected Sarah to turn
her down. Some other time then? She straightened, pulled her tank
top down over her bra, and rested a warm hand on Sarah s shoulder.
Inwardly cursing herself, Sarah replied, Sure.
Leslie Carver gave her a smile and breezed out of the locker room,
leaving Sarah alone with her thoughts. She closed her locker and sat
with her head in her hands. Truth was, she knew exactly why she d said
no. She didn t date. Nor did she socialize. Especially with people from
work. It was just the way she was. She didn t let anyone in.
She stood and stroked her dark mane back into a ponytail as she
moved to the door, then made her way down the hallway to the weight
room.
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As she scanned the room, which hung heavy with sweat, her mind
flashed over her current life. She had a lot going on, a lot to think about.
Most of it things she wished she could bury down deep, never to think
of again. But her present life was demanding that the past be dug up,
however awful and life shattering it might be. Which was all the more
reason why she needed to concentrate right now. She had to focus; her
future depended on it. Any day now she would hear back from the FBI.
She had just finished phase two of testing the week before. The Bureau
was all she had ever wanted, and she couldn t afford to screw it up over
her current issues. It was too important to her.
Her eyes caught the bulky body of her longtime friend, fellow cop
Dave Houston. At once her insides flooded with guilt. Dave was her
closest friend, her only friend. But she hadn t yet told him about the
FBI. She could lie to herself and say it was because she wasn t yet in.
But she knew better. She was a shoo-in.
Dave greeted her by handing over a water bottle, taking a quick
squirt from the one he still held. You ready?
Yeah. She was more than ready. It was time to focus and forget
all the rest.
She had worked hard to build a nice life for herself. A tidy,
comfortable apartment, a great job, an attainable goal with the FBI. And
no one to share it with. The thought stabbed her and seemingly from out
of nowhere, Chandler s face forced all else from her mind. Coming for
her, over and over. Damn it. No.
She pushed it away only to have her mother s voice enter her
head, reporting the bad news. Forcing up memories, ghosts, demons
she had long ago buried. Fresh, potent anger and resentment followed
close behind, leaving her feeling tightly wound, ready to rage, causing
her to question her own sanity. No.
She clenched her water bottle and walked with purpose next to
Dave.
Bodies around them pumped and pushed, grunted and strained as
they tried their muscles. But she ignored them, too worked up over her
inner turmoil. Leslie Carver waved as she walked by, almost touching
her. It forced up another issue. Her own secret little problem. The real
reason why she kept women at bay.
Worked up before she had even started, Sarah laid down on the
bench press and lifted the bar of weights before Dave had a chance to
spot her.
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He scurried behind her, cursing as she pushed out rep after rep,
determined to clear her mind. She couldn t stop or the thoughts would
catch up. Her workouts were all she had. Nothing else could chase her
troubles away. So she pushed on, enjoying the strain, welcoming the
pain.
Jesus, Monroe. Easy, Dave warned.
Sarah clenched her jaw and bent her knees, lifting her feet to
place them flat on the bench. She needed more of an isolation on her
chest, and the new position would do it. She gripped the bar again and
squeezed, positioning just right for the next lift.
You ve had enough, Dave said sternly.
No, I haven t, she replied. One more set.
It s too much, you ve had enough.
She squinted up at him and refused to submit. Fine, I ll do it
without you. With that she tensed her body and hoisted the bar up over
her chest. She had to keep going, had to keep focused.
Why are you so worked up today? he questioned as she pumped
out the first rep of her fifth set.
No reason.
Sarah groaned as the thoughts of Chandler invaded, regardless
of her internal fight against them. As she pushed the bar up time and
time again, she imagined pushing the thoughts away. But they still
came. The way Chandler moved, the way she smelled, the way her
hardheadedness had melted into an unbelievable burning passion. The
bar weighed down on her, pushing her to fail, causing her arms to shake.
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