Inches Aren't Everything

By Sarah B. Daniels

The elite trainers at Body Management Corporation (BMC) have more than sculpting the perfect body on their agendas. Working with hot rock stars and professional athletes, they often spend as much time between the sheets as on the treadmill.
Head trainer, Dean Stoddard, is known for his good looks and stunning bedroom endurance with his more than willing clients. Orlanda Kennedy, one of Dean’s colleagues, is an exquisite goddess on a quest for success and wealth. Orlanda despises the shallowness of the fitness industry and the simple-minded men she works with. She uses her curves and intelligence to manipulate the men who lust after her, to maintain control of the situation – and the men.
Dean can't deny his attraction to Orlanda but refuses to give her the satisfaction of turning him down, so he desires her in quiet – until he thinks she sends him a signal to approach for landing.
Orlanda's plot for domination unfolds around BMC's owner, Zack Johnston, who is in a power struggle with his business partner, and in another kind of struggle with Leena Ryan, the mysterious woman who seduced him during a flight and hasn't let him rest since. She is about to push Zack into a whole new understanding of the word “action," causing him to question himself and everything around him.
Luckily, Zack has Keith Langley, his right-hand man and head trainer, keeping him grounded and protecting the business. Keith is a natural leader who longs for love instead of one-night stands.
Burned out rock stars, sex-driven sports stars, clients who tempt, and trainers who accept, round out the roster of characters in this page-turning, intriguing romp of a novel. You'll get to laugh at 'em, love 'em and want to join them!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steam
• Release date: Jun 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781943544028

Sarah B. Daniels

Sarah B. Daniels is the pen name of a clinical counselor/author who combines the real-life stories she has encountered for more than 35 years and turbo-charged them through her creative imagination to create page-turning, light, fun, and sexy novels, such as Inches Aren’t Everything.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Six Months Later

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Four Months Later

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Six Months Later

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Three Months Later

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Three Months Later

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Three Months Later

Chapter 24

Six Months Later

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Behind Closed Doors

Prologue

Orlanda felt the dragging sharpness of the brick wall through her workout t-shirt, the stinging shards pressing into her shoulders. She arched her back and thrust her pelvis further forward as the mounting tension between her legs began to react rhythmically to the man’s tongue and fingers stroking, licking and teasing between her legs. Eyes half open in the dim light of the alleyway, the man was on his knees in front of her, his hair between her fingers as they both heard a moan coming from somewhere inside her. He was good, his fingers stroking, pressing and squeezing. He knew his way around. The pulsing inside Orlanda quickened until, with a burst of movement, she felt the orgasm build and overflow. Her knees buckled slightly as her body released tension. Aaaahhh...

She wanted more... but not now. She had a meeting to go to.

The man lifted his head, panting, eyes filled with passion and intent.

Oh my God woman, you are beautiful. He started to stand up, his fingers moving toward the front of his pants to unzip. Orlanda swiftly stepped sideways, straightened her skirt and walked briskly toward the street. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw the man stumbling toward her, eyes glazed, not knowing what had just happened. He watched her go and couldn’t do anything about it.

Another time, she muttered, flicking her fingers to rid herself of the hair that she’d unknowingly wrenched from his scalp. She grinned as she turned the corner.

Chapter 1

Orlanda’s long legs strode purposefully toward the meeting room in the BMC gym, ready for battle. Feeling powerful, she was channeling all her sexual, emotional, and physical abundant energy into achieving her goal: she wanted to dominate the meeting that day, and she wanted to get her way. She’d be damned if she was going to take back that disgusting oil company client just because Keith Langley needed another personal trainer on the account. She was better than that, and they all knew it.

The determination in her eyes reflected the rage she was feeling. She was angry about being manipulated. Keith had called her at home just an hour before. He had informed her that Texcan had requested that she be put back on the roster for Texcan. Texcan was a large, Houston-based oil company that believed a fit body is a fit mind. The joke around BMC was that Texcan really meant a shit body and a split mind.

Texcan’s Chief Executive Officer was an enthusiastic triathlon participant. She was a real dynamo who was obsessed with fitness, and had hired BMC to visit the regional office in Chicago three times a week so that all three-hundred-and-twenty employees could take aerobics classes in a specially designed hall. Orlanda hated the group from the moment she stepped into their facility.

They don’t exactly move like Russian gymnasts, Keith had quipped at last week’s meeting when Orlanda requested that she be removed from the account. He was the corporate account manager and head trainer for Texcan, responsible for making sure there were at least three trainers present for every session.

As always, Keith had missed the point entirely. She hated working with Texcan’s employees. She despised the overweight, middle-aged men who ogled her and who kept asking if they could add their sugar to her coffee, and whose eyes never left the v-point between her toned thighs through the entire workout. These guys were not serious about training; they were there because their boss expected compliance. As far as Orlanda was concerned, that was the worst reason for being involved in fitness training. They were simply playing the game—and playing with her, objectifying her and attempting to intimidate her, like so many men wanted to do.

Orlanda also loathed the overwhelming heat in the company’s exercise room and the smell of three hundred sweating middle-aged corporate bodies trying to move rhythmically to music. They all lusted after her; she could feel it. Normally that would remind her of her power and make her feel in control, but any wrong step with such a valuable account would get her fired, so she had to stay silent in the face of all their boorish comments and wandering eyes. She hated being such an easy mark for these creepy, uninteresting men.

Most of all, she hated working for Keith. He didn’t understand that she was different. She didn’t really belong at BMC. She wasn’t like the rest of the trainers who were working there because it was the only thing they knew how to do. She was there for a reason, a purpose her heritage had equipped her to accomplish. This job was simply a means to an end. She could usually control her own destiny, even at this level. To have to deal with the situation again was tiring, unnecessary, and would divert energy from her main purpose.

She entered the meeting room, wincing at the ugly decor. A perfect example of BMC’s total lack of aesthetics, she thought smugly to herself. Why couldn’t the company realize that a fit body and a fit mind responded best to elegance, and that decor was an important aspect of body-mind synthesis? For her, BMC was only skimming the surface, only taking into account the very basics that they needed to get by. Orlanda was interested in so much more, and was becoming increasingly annoyed at having to exist in such a drab and lifeless environment.

Keith was sitting in a corner, laughing at something someone had said. He caught her eye and waved her over. She ignored him and walked toward J.J. Standish, who always ran the meetings when boss-man Zack Johnston was away. The word around the gym was that Zack was closing an important deal in Montreal, but no one knew the details.

J.J.’s head was bent over last week’s client roster and booking sheets. J.J. had obviously decided that today he was Jimmy. This was not always the case; sometimes Jimmy was Janey. It was always possible to tell the gender of the day because on Janey days he wore his long hair down around his shoulders and pantyhose under his sweat suits. BMC company policy prevented him from wearing makeup while at work, but he would bring his cosmetics and apply them in the changing room after his shift.

Orlanda could smell the Canoe as she got closer to him, further confirming it was a Jimmy day.

He gave her a false smile, putting her on her guard at once. Hello there, darling. What on earth is going on with you? he trilled. I see that you’ve lost another client this month. That’s two in four months... far too many for a trainer with your qualities. Why don’t you stick around after the meeting so we can talk about it? he requested in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

Orlanda burned at his rudeness and insensitivity, but stayed calm and self-possessed. She had to remember why she was there. She quietly returned his stare for a moment and then decided that he wasn’t worth the effort. She instinctively knew that J.J. wasn’t particularly fond of women, despite his Janey identity. Orlanda looked away, breathing slowly and deeply to maintain composure. She calmly turned her back on J.J. and chose a seat at the end of the table, as far away from him as she could get. Keith beckoned to her once again, but she still chose to ignore him.

The door opened and Francesca Lacarno bounded in, a flurry of dark curls, sparkling eyes, and energy. Guys! I’m going to be teaching cops how to boogie!

What? someone laughed.

You’re kidding, added another.

Only you, Frisco, Keith grinned. You’re the only person I know who could get the cops to dance, especially considering all those donuts they eat.

Yes, isn’t it fantastic? Francesca enthused.

When does this training start? asked J.J., his pen poised over the roster. And how much did you quote?

Francesca faltered. Oh. Um, actually...

Here we go, thought Orlanda.

It’s not exactly through BMC, she mumbled. But that’s not my fault. See, I got the job because my sister’s boyfriend is a cop. We were up at the cottage last weekend and I was showing them some of the exercises I do to make my classes more interesting. I made a joke about how much fun it would be to teach the boys in blue to exercise, and lo and behold, he agreed with me. Then my sister said that if anyone could give those men some rhythm, it was me. I suggested organizing weekly sessions at the station, and he said he would ask his captain. I really didn’t think anything would come of it—you know how it is, we’d been out in the sun all day and we’d had a few bottles of wine, but he was serious. He had a chat with his captain, and they ended up hiring me for the job.

After a nervous shuffling of feet, silence ensued. No one dared look at Francesca, except Orlanda, who gave the woman a warm, if somewhat restrained smile because she felt sorry for her. Some people were just not so smart.

J.J. puffed up like a blowfish, all spikes and angry eyes. He scanned the group and then confronted Francesca. But that’s moonlighting, and you know BMC’s policy about that. I’ll definitely have to talk to Zack about this.

Talk to Zack about what? asked one of the two women striding through the open door. Jane and Beth Inksta, two blond, gorgeous identical twin BMC trainers, swamped the room with their healthy collegiate good looks and high-spirited energy. Orlanda loathed them both.

Francesca’s moonlighting, J.J. grumbled.

The group groaned.

Let’s not continue this conversation at this particular moment, J.J. said smoothly. I’ll speak to you later, in private.

Francesca seemed to shrink.

It’s eight already, J.J. continued, ignoring Francesca’s distress, so let’s get down to business. Has anyone used the services of our nutritionist this week?

There was a palpable feeling of relief in the room. This particular topic was something they could handle.

Francesca sat down next to Keith, who gave her an understanding smile and squeezed her hand. She looked close to tears.

Are you all napping on the job, or what? Oh, never mind. I’ll start, J.J. said. My Elmhurst client wanted to lose an extra ten pounds in two weeks. I tried to explain that it wasn’t healthy to lose weight that quickly, but she didn’t believe me. So I called Marianna, and she gave me her ten-pound-special printout. It seems to be working and the client is losing the weight positively rather than negatively. J.J. stopped talking and looked around at the group of trainers.

I want to remind you that discussing proper nutrition with our clients is as important as instructing them on how to work out. In fact, in some ways, it’s even more important. It shows that we’re interested in them; that we’re concerned with their overall health as well as their bodies. As Zack says, to keep our clients happy, we have to show we care about keeping them fit and healthy.

Where did he learn to be so boring? Jane Inksta whispered to her sister as she checked her cell phone for messages. Did he take courses?

It’s called management interruptus, Beth whispered back. You know, when the boss is away...

J.J. stared at them, a quizzical look on his face. Is there something you’d like to share with us?

Not really, Beth said.

They both giggled.

Well, I have something to add, Francesca said eagerly, obviously looking for J.J.’s approval. One of my clients has recently been diagnosed as a diabetic, so I suggested that he speak to Marianna before we continue our exercise regimen. She can probably suggest a diet that is more interesting and perhaps even healthier than the one his doctor gave him. Of course it would have to be approved by his doctor, just to make sure that medical procedures were being followed and that it matches his insulin intake, she hastened to add. I haven’t booked an appointment with Marianna yet—I plan to do that tomorrow.

If you stay after the meeting, I’ll set it up for you. That way you won’t have to think about it later, J.J. suggested.

Francesca flushed and nodded.

Orlanda watched this exchange with private amusement. She knew that J.J.’s bravado was only skin deep. In reality, he lacked confidence in himself. She also knew that one day she would break him, she knew exactly how she would do it. She would destroy his fragile shell and crack him open like an egg. If there was one thing Orlanda was sure of, it was that no one would ever control her, certainly no man, and absolutely not this obsequious excuse of a man.

Has anyone heard from Dean? J.J. queried. He’s not usually late, and I know he sent his client to Marianna.

There was a general shaking of heads around the table and a murmuring of nos.

Well, then, J.J. huffed, changing the subject. Has anyone used the physiotherapist this week?

Orlanda chose this moment to get in her necessary few words. If she stayed quiet throughout the meeting, J.J would sulk for the rest of the day. Yes, I did, twice. One of the Texan staff said he wanted a good rub down, so I gave him the phone number of the physiotherapist.

It was only when everyone began laughing that Orlanda realized what she had said. She blushed, furious with herself for the unintended double entendre. Of course these insensitive clouts choose to misinterpret my words. It wasn’t like that at all; he knew what he was getting, she insisted a little too loudly.

Yeah, I’ll bet, Beth said in a stage whisper.

Cool it, Keith suggested, although he smiled. Let’s give the girl a chance.

Orlanda felt insulted. She stood up, ready to walk out of the meeting. These people didn’t deserve her.

Just at that moment, Dean entered, looking like something the cat dragged in. His head was down and his clothes were disheveled. He had either been on the losing side of an argument turned physical or he had recently rushed off from a romp in the hay with his current bedroom buddy.

I’m trying to run a meeting, here, J.J. said, sounding exasperated. Sit down, will you, Dean? You too, Orlanda.

Orlanda settled back into her chair, her anger fading. Dean plopped down opposite her.

What’s up? she muttered.

Dean grimaced and leaned toward her. I’ll tell you about it later, he whispered.

Please! glowered J.J.

Orlanda dropped her eyes down to the desk in an apparent gesture of obedience but, under the table, she kicked off her high heels and let her toes slide gently up Dean’s calf. He visibly jumped, and then began to smile. He struggled to keep his wriggling under control as Orlanda’s foot slid higher and higher. Almost as quickly as she started it, she dropped her foot and made no sign to him that it had been intentional; the smile disappeared from his face and was replaced by one of confusion.

Let’s get on with the physio report, J.J. pontificated. Unless you have anything to add to our discussion about nutrition, Dean.

Dean looked ready to explode and flushed red with embarrassment as all attention turned to him. He attempted to reply but then just shook his head.

Dean, get a hold of yourself. You look like you’re about to pass out, snapped J.J. Does anyone else want to give a report? No? You’re such a bunch of shrinking violets this morning. It had better not become a habit or I’ll start thinking that you haven’t got your minds on the job, or that you’re not doing any real work. Anyway, I’ll start. One of my clients, the doctor, still wants to use me as a counselor, J.J. said with a groan. I’m certain that she only works out when I’m there to supervise her, and then all she does is natter on about her lousy husband, her contemptible mother, her even more contemptible mother-in-law, and her horrible kids. I’ve attempted to use Orlanda’s trick of not responding, but it hasn’t worked. I’ve also tried Francesca’s idea of getting her to sing along with the music, but she has a terrible voice and knows it, so I can’t get her to do more than hum, and then only for a while before she gets embarrassed. I’ve gone so far as suggesting that she should see a therapist, but she says she doesn’t need one. In short, I’ve tried everything I can think of. She’s negative as hell, and the only thing getting a workout is her mouth.

Maybe Dean should give her one of his special massages, Beth smiled.

Orlanda looked up sharply. What do you mean? What special massages?

Relax, Orlanda. She’s just kidding, J.J. said swiftly.

Orlanda turned to Dean and gave him a searching look, and a kick under the table.

The twins giggled like high school kids, but in reality, they were skillful trainers. This seemed to be the only skill they had, perhaps in addition to some talent between the sheets, although that was just a rumor that circulated around the gym, albeit a persistent one. Orlanda sometimes wondered what—if anything—was behind their placid expressions and their tendency to laugh at every joke any of the men made. She found women like that essentially loathsome because they seemed to have no center, no sense of themselves, no real identity. All they did was pander to the egos of men.

I find it strange that you would even joke about something like that, Orlanda insisted rather self-righteously. She knew she didn’t have much of a leg to stand on, considering that she had just been playing footsie with Dean in the middle of the meeting. After all, our reputation is all we have, so you shouldn’t suggest that any of us would participate in something of that nature. It shouldn’t be mentioned, not even in jest. Our careers are on the line, after all.

A few people sighed, while others rolled their eyes.

I could take your client for a month or two, if you like, Francesca offered, desperate to get back into J.J.’s good books. It would give you a break from her constant chatter, and in exchange, you could take my mother and daughter duo every Tuesday and Thursday. I’m sort of running dry with them, anyway.

Why don’t I take her? Dean proposed, having finally collected himself after the distraction beneath the table. I know how to handle people like that. You could take Beasley; he’s on his way to being a real success story. I could start right away. You’ll be good with Beasley. He’s on maintenance now three times a week, and he’s easy to deal with. All he needs is a little motivation to keep him on his diet and to stop him from smoking his cigars. He’ll like you. You’ll get on well with him. Orlanda knew that Dean was desperate as he was beginning to babble; he must hate this client. He continued to wriggle in his chair.

Just hang on a minute, here, interrupted J.J. "First of all, we can’t trade clients. Like Zack always says, we’re in charge of the training sessions, and if we can’t handle our clients, there’s something wrong with us, not with them. He glanced at his watch. I don’t believe it. It’s already nine o’clock, and we’re only halfway through the meeting. Let’s cut the crap and get on with it."

Nine o’clock, groaned Keith, Sorry J.J., but I’ve got to go. I’ve got an interview with a prospective client at the hotel, remember?

Yes, J.J. sighed as Keith stood up to leave. Call me later and let me know what happened, will you?

Right, Keith nodded as he left the room.

So let’s continue, J.J. said when Keith had gone.

Orlanda stood up, sick of the meeting and ready to take advantage of J.J.’s acquiescent mood. Jimmy, would you mind very much if I left? I really should go to late class. I haven’t had time to work out today. I wouldn’t want to get out of shape, she said in a pleasant voice. She slid toward the door and was in the hall before the surprised J.J. could answer. She was disappointed that she hadn’t been able to dominate the meeting, so she was going to make sure that she at least controlled her part of it. And she wanted OUT.

Orlanda hurried into the elevator and used the descent to center herself. She breathed deeply and mentally recited the nine rules of ICHI.

The Way is in training.

All is one and one is all

The power of breath is one power

The focus of the mind is the one focus

The weakness of man is the way in

The power of man is the way through

Develop intuitive judgement and understanding for everything.

Perceive those things which cannot be seen

Do nothing which is of no use.

Be for the highest good

Once again, she blessed her mother, who had shown her how to take the best of any society, no matter how uncivilized it was, or of any situation, no matter how wretched it seemed to be, and to use it for her own ends. By the time the elevator reached the ground floor, she was ready to go into her body psyche and work to perfection in class. It would be her second workout of the day; she had lied.

Meanwhile, J.J. realized that he had completely lost control of the meeting. Why don’t we all call it a day, then? I’ll contact each of you individually tomorrow to get whatever information I need.

The restless trainers rushed to the door like children let out of school, leaving J.J. sitting there alone. He felt exhausted and irritated about something, but he didn’t know precisely what. He put his head in his hands and moaned quietly.

"Why can’t anything