He was usually there from eight to nine-thirty on Monday nights.
Jacquie smiled. “You should know that I beat every contender tonight.” She was proud of that and knew it showed. Some of those who’d come to fight her were twenty years younger. “I’m on fire tonight!”
His gaze slipped over her as surely as a touch and his smile heated her blood to a sizzle. “Thom said you had to have been looking for me.” He reached for a pair of gloves from the wall, watching her as he laced them on.
Jacquie felt herself flush. “I didn’t think I was that obvious.”
“Thom has great respect for your ability to remember all the details about the staff.” A smile lifted the corner of his mouth as his gaze darkened. “And I’m flattered.”
“I’m starting to feel mortified.”
“Don’t. I like that you’re direct. It tells me exactly where I stand and that’s a wonderful thing.”
“Not if you’re not interested.”
“But I am,” Pierce said softly, walking toward her with purpose. “I always have been. I just wasn’t sure the interest was reciprocated.” Their gazes locked and held and Jacquie was suddenly certain there wasn’t enough air in the studio. Her heart was racing, just from Pierce’s proximity—or maybe it was his steady perusal—and she felt taut in all the right places. He was so deliberate. She was sure that if he touched her—when?—he would do it slowly. Masterfully.
She swallowed as he tightened the lace on his second glove. “Slow poke,” she charged without planning to do so.
“The best things are worth waiting for.” He smiled then and she caught her breath at the way the expression softened his features. “Unless you’re impatient to get a piece of me?”
Were his eyes twinkling? They were green, a clear green that seemed intense and perceptive. His lashes were dark and thick, a detail she hadn’t noticed when he wore his glasses.
“Maybe I’ve been waiting for this match since you joined the club.”
“It probably wouldn’t hurt to admit that I’ve been waiting for it, too.”
“Because you need your butt kicked?”
“Because I want to see you fight, up close and personal.”
“Don’t imagine I won’t know if you let me win.”
“Who said I’d let you win?”
“Don’t even think it.”
“I didn’t,” he replied with resolve and she hoped he was telling her the truth. “Thom did, but I told him it was a stupid idea.”
“How so?”
“You’d find out and make me pay for it. Better to get my ass kicked honestly.” He lifted a brow. “Or kick yours.”
A fair fight then. That suited Jacquie perfectly.
They circled each other in the middle of the studio, each planning their shot. Pierce was probably six inches taller than her, even though she was tall herself, and weighed a good forty pounds more. He had the advantage of size, but maybe she had speed on her side. They circled but he didn’t make a move, his eyes glittering in anticipation.
Maybe he was old-school enough to think that ladies should go first.
Maybe he thought she wouldn’t take the initiative.
He was wrong about that.
Jacquie punched, Pierce ducked; he made a quick strike and she spun out of the way; then the fight was on and there was only the challenge of winning. They played by the F5F rules: no targeting of elbows or knees, no groin shots or face shots. It was all about speed and agility, about technique—not about damaging the opponent.
It was great. Fast and hard. Intense. He liked to make unexpected moves and defy convention, but so did Jacquie. His follow-through was exceptional and she paid attention to how he moved, knowing she could learn from him. She surprised him first when she caught his shoulder with a sudden strike of her left glove, setting him off balance.
“Nice,” he said in tense admiration. “Ambidextrous?”
“I try.”
“You do well with it, especially when you hold it back. I won’t forget.”
“I’d be surprised if you did.”
His lips set in a hard line and his eyes glinted as he came back at her: if he’d ever planned to let her win, she’d dismissed that inclination.
Good.
They each made a quick sequence of blows then, and the match sped up. There was perspiration flying. They were both panting by the time Pierce spun quickly enough to surprise her. His first squarely-landed punch caught her in the gut and sent Jacquie backward toward the wall. She was glad that he wasn’t afraid to hit her. She came up fast to catch him under the chin, then twisted him around and swept his feet out from under him.
Pierce went down on the mat, but came up fighting so quickly that he practically bounced. There was a resolve in his expression that Jacquie recognized well. He spun her into the wall but she ducked under his arm and away, attacking him from behind. He’d already moved and they circled each other again, then went at it. They fought all-out even as it became obvious that they were almost evenly matched.
After twenty minutes, they were both panting and soaked with sweat.
It was time to taunt him a little, maybe piss him off. People often made mistakes when they were provoked.
“You have to be holding back,” Jacquie accused, hoping it wasn’t so.
His grin caught her by surprise. “Maybe a little.” His gaze swept over her with admiration. “Maybe not as much as you think. You’re good.”
“So are you.”
“Maybe you’re the one holding back.”
“Maybe I am,” Jacquie said, then ducked the blow he’d intended to be a surprise.
She flipped him over, hearing his exhalation of laughter before he hit the mat, then he caught her around the knees with one leg and she fell down beside him. He rolled her to her back before she caught her breath, angling his weight over her and the world stopped cold.
His eyes were so green.
His mouth was so
