Izzy took a quick, cold shower and dressed in her running attire. Taking a deep breath, she grasped the doorknob. Rolling her neck and shoulders, she opened the door and with a bounce in her step she didn’t feel, she headed down the hall and then trotted downstairs. Flynn was waiting for her at the front door.  He’d changed into a white, Dri-FIT tee that had the faded words Federal Property across the chest. The material accentuated each ripple of his chest, arms, and back. His black running shorts matched his black running shoes. Swallowing, Izzy wished there was a way she didn’t have to be subjected to his hotness in such an in-your-face way. His scent wafted toward her.  Why did he have to smell so damn good, too?

Putting her ear buds in, Izzy cranked up her archaic iPod and stepped out onto the front porch, where she began her stretches.  Taking her time, she didn’t rush through them.  She couldn’t afford a pulled muscle in her line of work.

The slow beat of “Earned It,” came on, the song she had lap-danced to the night she met Flynn and his cronies.  Closing her eyes, Izzy let the music sink into her soul, and as it filled her, she slowed the cadence of her movements.  In her mind’s eye she saw herself dancing seductively for Flynn the night she met him.  He had been so virile. So receptive to her.  God, how her body had blossomed for him.  There in front of his friends and later at her house.

He had made her feel things she never thought she would ever feel.  Didn’t know existed.  It wasn’t fair that he took all of that away from her! Was he a sadist?  Her muscles tightened as she opened her eyes and caught his hot stare riveted on her.  Smugly, she turned away from him, bending over and touching her toes, giving him a nice view of the ass he’d never touch again.  When she stood, she reached high over her head, clasping her hands and stretching.

From the disruption of the shade behind her, she knew Flynn had moved closer to her.  Turning she caught her breath as his chest nearly collided with hers.

He reached up and took one of her ear buds from her ear.  “Flash that sweet ass of yours my way again, Pink, I’m going to slap it.”

Her jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me.” It was a challenge she so wanted to take.

“And hand over the goodies?” She snatched her ear bud from him. Putting it back in her ear, she said, “Not on your life.”

Not waiting for Flynn to follow, she jogged down the sidewalk to the street.  Once she hit her stride, she took comfort in knowing that Flynn was just two steps behind her.  He could probably run circles around her, but he kept to her pace, ever diligent.

As the tension began to leave her, she let the music take her away.  If she could have closed her eyes and just run, she would have.  Running was the one place she could totally escape.

Her pace picked up. She wanted to run away from everything and everyone.  From Flynn. From her life.  Anger churned within her.  Anger at Flynn for not being the guy she desperately wanted him to be.  She hadn’t lied when she told him she wished she’d never met him.  He’d totaled her. She didn’t know how to make the longing go away.  With that truth, the truth about her mother dawned.  Finally, Izzy got it.  Now she understood how hard it must have been for her.  To live under the same roof with the only man she had been intimate with.  The only man she loved, would ever love, right there within reach, but untouchable.  Except when he went to her.  And her father had gone to her mother over the years.  Giving her hope only to snatch it away.

Her mother was beautiful. Sweet, loving, and she never turned Izzy’s father away.  It didn’t matter to Izzy that her father wasn’t worthy of her mother’s love, it only mattered that her mother loved him.  Unconditionally until the day she died.  Understanding her mother’s feelings a little better, now that she had experienced them herself, Izzy didn’t feel so harshly about her choice.

Unlike her mother, Izzy didn’t have to rely on the benevolence of others to make her way.  Izzy had options.  She was a citizen, she was educated, and she’d learned several harsh life lessons early.  From the day her mother died, Izzy had not depended on anyone for anything. She was an island.  Or she had been until Flynn had dropped anchor on her shore.

As she turned left on Bellevue, she stumbled.  Tension tightened her muscles. Just down the street on the left was the house where she had spent the first eleven years of her life.  The house where her father still resided.  The house Alex still called home.

Her pace slowed as the imposing iron gates leading to the Chastain estate slowly opened. She felt Flynn’s presence much closer to her now, his shadow running alongside hers.

A blacked-out black town car rolled out from behind the gates.  As it decelerated near the street, Izzy slowed so as not to collide with it.  Her eyes were riveted on the open back passenger window.

Anxious tension constricted her heart, causing her to gulp for breath.

From the inside of the car, her father’s handsome face stared at her.  As the car turned right, coming her way, he continued to stare.

“Daddy,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” Flynn said, taking her arm, pulling her away from the man who stared blankly back at her.

When recognition sparked behind the sea colored eyes she had inherited from him, hope swelled in Izzy’s heart.  She reached out, moving toward the car.

Her father looked forward, dismissing her as he had all those years ago. The window slowly closed as the car accelerated and was gone.

Gulping for air, Izzy bent over, feeling nauseous.  God, it hurt. Why had she stopped?  She’d made peace years ago with the fact that she would never be more than a dirty secret to her father. That there was no place in his life for her.  There never had been. There never would be. She hadn’t meant to reach out to him. She despised him!  Why had she done that only to be rejected?  Again.

Flynn’s big hand slid across her back and up between her shoulder blades.  “I’m sorry.”

Still gasping for a deep breath, Izzy shook her head as anger seeped deep into her.  Not at Flynn or her father, but herself. She was a fool to think even for one second that her sperm donor would give her the time of day.  She’d been foolish to think Flynn would, too.

“Are you okay?” Flynn asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, gasping for breath.  Nausea rolled through her again, the acid of the coffee rising in her throat.  “I just need to catch my breath.”

The firm soothing pressure of Flynn’s hand on her back, as he rubbed her tense muscles in an effort to comfort her, made her want to cry for completely different but oh so familiar reasons.

Rejection stung.

Why she had opened herself, exposing her gooey vulnerable self, stymied her.  Had she become her mother?  The thought instantly gut-checked her.  She could almost hear the clank of the metal walls as they dropped down around her heart. It would be a long time before she allowed anyone to get as close as Flynn had.  Maybe never.  The pain that followed was too steep a price for the precious little time that felt good.

She needed to suck it up. Get back on track by focusing on herself and finding Alex.  Once she was found, Izzy could sleep at night knowing she had done the right thing, even if she never saw her sister again.

Fortified with new determination, she straightened and swiped away the mingled sweat and tears from her cheeks.  Taking a deep, shaky breath, she managed a big smile.  “Let’s wrap this up. I’m hungry.”  She took off, leaving Flynn to catch up.  When he did, he ran beside her stride for stride.  By the time they made a full circle, she was emotional and physical toast.  Burnt toast. No good for anything except pigeon feed, and even that was being optimistic.