Sweat by Deborah Bladon

Exercise is supposed to strengthen the body and clear the mind, right?
Wrong.
When I’m looking across the gym at a half-naked Smith Booth, it’s hard to focus on anything but his gorgeous face, piercing brown eyes and the way the sweat travels down his abs to his….
I can’t.
If I didn’t already know Smith, I’d think he’s the hottest man on the planet, but we have a past.
It’s not checkered. We didn’t have a sordid affair that ruined anyone’s life.
He stole the only thing that ever mattered to me.
Forgiving him is not an option. Apparently, avoiding him at my favorite gym isn’t either.
I can hold a grudge forever, can’t I?
I just wish my pulse didn’t race every single time he looks my way.