“Absolutely,” Pierce said. “That’s why I’m here.” He headed for the coiled ropes but stopped right beside Jacquie, noting that she hadn’t moved away yet. “Got any open time slots tonight?” he asked softly and her smile was immediate. He stared at her for a moment, dazzled by the sight.
“There’s never anyone by nine-thirty.”
“I’ll see you then.”
She grinned. “You should be warned: I’ll be all warmed up and ready to conquer.”
Pierce smiled back at her, watching her flush just a little. “I can’t wait,” he murmured, because it was true, then Thom whistled at him. They both looked at Thom, then Jacquie excused herself and walked back to the offices of the club, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. Pierce watched her go, admiring yet again her lithe grace.
“Earth calling,” Thom said, and Pierce turned to him with a smile.
“Sorry.”
“Just glad you two got that worked out,” Thom said, buckling on his harness. “Annika’s cooking tonight so I don’t want to be late.”
“What do you mean, that we got it worked out?”
Thom gave him a patient look. “I’ve lived at the same address for seven years. I’ve worked here for most of that time. Jacquie has been running HR for six years. There’s no reason for her to double-check my mailing address.”
“It can’t hurt to be sure,” Pierce said, wondering.
Thom shook his head. “That woman is a human database. If I’d moved, she would have known before the last packing box was gone. She knows everything about everyone who works here.”
Pierce was even more intrigued. “How so?”
“Jax knows the entire schedule of courses and classes, the schedule for podcasts and online interviews, and can tell you which part-time instructor is where at any given time. If you ask her who is teaching hot yoga next Thursday night, she’ll give you a list of classes, instructors and times. She knows everyone’s credentials and specialties as well as our preferences. She recommends teaching upgrades to us as she sees fit. If I have to call in sick, she immediately knows who can take my shift. Dollars to donuts, she’ll list three candidates in order of preference.” Thom checked his harness. “We’re mostly part-timers. That means she knows our schedules at other places we work, the times we can’t work because of commitments to kids or volunteer work, and where to find us anytime any day. She knows the names of our significant others and kids, knows our hometowns, and remembers our birthdays. She is the nerve center of contingency plans, and she remembers it all like it’s easy-peasy.” He looked Pierce in the eye as he chalked his gloves. “She did not have to check my mailing address.”
“Then why was she here?” Pierce asked, even though he thought he knew the answer.
“To ask you to come kickboxing, obviously.” Thom gave the rope a little tug, checking the tension. “She doesn’t just know the employee schedules and you’re here on the dot at six, every Monday night.”
Pierce felt some satisfaction that Jacquie was watching him as avidly as he was watching her, maybe more so.
“The real question is whether you’re going to let her win or not.”
“That’s not a question at all,” Pierce said easily.
“Isn’t it?”
“It has to be a fair contest, no matter how it falls.” He picked up the rope. “You have to know by now that letting a woman win is a bad strategic choice.”
“Not if she doesn’t find out.”
“She will always find out,” Pierce asserted. “And then you’re toast. Trust me.”
Thom grinned. “I do. You going to time me?”
“You bet, but you were pretty fast last week.”
“Annika’s cooking,” Thom said, surveying the wall with obvious anticipation. “Watch me go.”
At nine-twenty, Pierce headed to the kickboxing studio, anticipation putting a spring in his step. He liked to be early, to check out any variables. He was pumped and a little tired after helping Nate in the weight room for two hours. He’d gotten in his own workout as well as doing a lot of spotting.
The whole time, he’d been wishing the time would fly.
He stopped in the hall outside the studio. It had glass walls on this side and the door was closed, so the sounds of his approach would be muted. Jacquie was working out alone, throwing punches at the punching bag that hung from the ceiling. Pierce watched. She was trim and taut, her muscles tight and her skin wet with sweat, an action heroine come to life. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swung as she kicked and punched.
She wore a black tank top and shorts, the Lycra hugging her slender curves, and boots laced over her ankles. Her gloves were worn to a patina with use and her focus was intense. She looked resolute, as if she was going to pound something—or maybe someone—into submission. She landed a hard kick, a good one, and the bag swung, spinning, as she stepped back. She stepped back and blew her bangs out of her eyes, wiping away the perspiration with the back of her glove. Then she pivoted, maybe sensing his presence, and Pierce opened the door to the studio.
“Ready for a more lively opponent?”
A shiver slipped down Jacquie’s spine at the sound of a familiar male voice. Sure enough, she turned to find Pierce Aston watching her. How long had he been there?
This was the moment she’d wanted.
He was surveying her, really looking, and she could see admiration in his gaze. Heat rose on her cheeks, a sign of her awareness of him, and she hoped he attributed it to exertion. She doubted he missed a single detail with that laser-sharp gaze. She’d always wondered whether he knew that the women called him the silver fox of Flatiron Five Fitness and guessed, from the little smile that curved his lips, that he just might. He was totally toned, no doubt because of all the time he spent
