wished she didn’t keep noticing how handsome he was.
“Right,” she said.
“Let’s walk through the move. Grab me from behind, like you did.” They both got up. She moved in on him, feeling tentative as she noticed the ridges of muscle in his back. She reached across his shoulder—and the breath flew out of her lungs as he flipped her, to land hard on her back on the mats.
“Again!” he exclaimed.
Sophie sucked air back in, feeling a burst of anger, and bounded back up. This time she threw her weight and strength into grasping him. They grappled intensely for several moments, but Sophie ended up having to concede.
She rolled away from Alika and stood up. “I think I’ve got it.”
“We’ll try it again sometime. When you work out with Marcella, I want you to try that hold on her. It should work with someone closer to your size.”
Sophie narrowed her eyes at him. “You saying I can’t take you?”
“Not yet. And the day you can, I won’t have anything to teach you anymore, and that will be a sad day for me.” He grinned, and she smiled back, taking off the headgear. Her hair was cropped short, so there was no rearranging to be done. He was looking at the tattoos on the insides of her arms.
“What’s that writing? What do they say?”
“It’s Thai. I did it so I wouldn’t forget some things I’ve been through. They are just words.” She mopped her face with one of the thin gym towels, turned away toward the showers, but he followed her.
“What do they say?” he asked again.
“Hope. Freedom. Power. Respect. Courage.” She had no trouble reciting the words she’d had inked after her divorce was final.
“I like it.” He gave her shoulder a brotherly pat. “Thanks for telling me. I’ve been wondering about them for a while.”
That made her look down at her gym bag. The tattoos ran down the outsides of her thighs and insides of her arms—not the most suggestive of places; she’d done that so they could be easily concealed in a professional setting. But that meant he’d looked at her body.
He’d thought about it.
Sophie, don’t be ridiculous . The voice in her head sounded like her mother. He’d never be interested in someone so unladylike, a brawler like you.
“I was wondering about something. Are you going out with anybody?” His voice sounded a little uncertain. “You must be.”
She stilled, her hands in her gym bag as she stowed her gloves. She turned to look at him. “No.”
“I can’t believe it,” he said. “Greg was right. Are you gay, then?”
Greg was the gym manager. Sophie felt a wave of heat roar up her chest, and her rigid fingertips shot out to stop less than an inch from his throat, a gesture capable of crushing his larynx with a blow.
“You think because I’m single and a fighter, I must be gay? Take a look at your biases.” She spun to grab her gym bag, striding across the large warehouse space. Her ears felt hot.
They’d been talking and speculating about her. She could imagine the crude joking. She wished she could have a relationship, but the truth was she hadn’t been interested in anyone since her divorce—until this silly crush on Alika.
And now all she felt was angry and embarrassed. Better to go back to her computers, where she was never misunderstood or misjudged.
She was unlocking her car, a white Lexus SUV her father had given her for graduation from the FBI Academy, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t think, she reacted—shot her elbow back into her attacker’s solar plexus, spun to swing the gym bag.
Alika had doubled up from the blow, and the gym bag caught him on the side of the head.
“Oh no!”
Alika tried to smile as he rubbed his head. “Should have called your name. My bad, sneaking up on you.”
“Sorry, Coach.” Sophie picked up her bag. “I just reacted.”
“Call me Alika. Well, I’m not going to worry about your defense skills, that’s for sure. I wanted to apologize. I
“Right,” she said.
“Let’s walk through the move. Grab me from behind, like you did.” They both got up. She moved in on him, feeling tentative as she noticed the ridges of muscle in his back. She reached across his shoulder—and the breath flew out of her lungs as he flipped her, to land hard on her back on the mats.
“Again!” he exclaimed.
Sophie sucked air back in, feeling a burst of anger, and bounded back up. This time she threw her weight and strength into grasping him. They grappled intensely for several moments, but Sophie ended up having to concede.
She rolled away from Alika and stood up. “I think I’ve got it.”
“We’ll try it again sometime. When you work out with Marcella, I want you to try that hold on her. It should work with someone closer to your size.”
Sophie narrowed her eyes at him. “You saying I can’t take you?”
“Not yet. And the day you can, I won’t have anything to teach you anymore, and that will be a sad day for me.” He grinned, and she smiled back, taking off the headgear. Her hair was cropped short, so there was no rearranging to be done. He was looking at the tattoos on the insides of her arms.
“What’s that writing? What do they say?”
“It’s Thai. I did it so I wouldn’t forget some things I’ve been through. They are just words.” She mopped her face with one of the thin gym towels, turned away toward the showers, but he followed her.
“What do they say?” he asked again.
“Hope. Freedom. Power. Respect. Courage.” She had no trouble reciting the words she’d had inked after her divorce was final.
“I like it.” He gave her shoulder a brotherly pat. “Thanks for telling me. I’ve been wondering about them for a while.”
That made her look down at her gym bag. The tattoos ran down the outsides of her thighs and insides of her arms—not the most suggestive of places; she’d done that so they could be easily concealed in a professional setting. But that meant he’d looked at her body.
He’d thought about it.
Sophie, don’t be ridiculous . The voice in her head sounded like her mother. He’d never be interested in someone so unladylike, a brawler like you.
“I was wondering about something. Are you going out with anybody?” His voice sounded a little uncertain. “You must be.”
She stilled, her hands in her gym bag as she stowed her gloves. She turned to look at him. “No.”
“I can’t believe it,” he said. “Greg was right. Are you gay, then?”
Greg was the gym manager. Sophie felt a wave of heat roar up her chest, and her rigid fingertips shot out to stop less than an inch from his throat, a gesture capable of crushing his larynx with a blow.
“You think because I’m single and a fighter, I must be gay? Take a look at your biases.” She spun to grab her gym bag, striding across the large warehouse space. Her ears felt hot.
They’d been talking and speculating about her. She could imagine the crude joking. She wished she could have a relationship, but the truth was she hadn’t been interested in anyone since her divorce—until this silly crush on Alika.
And now all she felt was angry and embarrassed. Better to go back to her computers, where she was never misunderstood or misjudged.
She was unlocking her car, a white Lexus SUV her father had given her for graduation from the FBI Academy, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t think, she reacted—shot her elbow back into her attacker’s solar plexus, spun to swing the gym bag.
Alika had doubled up from the blow, and the gym bag caught him on the side of the head.
“Oh no!”
Alika tried to smile as he rubbed his head. “Should have called your name. My bad, sneaking up on you.”
“Sorry, Coach.” Sophie picked up her bag. “I just reacted.”
“Call me Alika. Well, I’m not going to worry about your defense skills, that’s for sure. I wanted to apologize. I
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