She knew she was being assessed, and didn’t like it much.
“Looking for a challenge?” he asked, his voice low and his tone suggestive.
“Sure, but be warned: I’m wearing my lucky gloves.” Jacquie held up her red boxing gloves and he laughed.
“It doesn’t take luck to win.” He was tall and broad-shouldered, about the same age as Jacquie, with a touch of silver at his temples. It made him look distinguished since his hair was otherwise dark. His eyes were blue and his jaw was square, and he moved with the confidence of a man who always gets what he wants. His smile as he entered the studio told Jacquie she’d made the list.
As he moved closer, Jacquie felt more like a piece of meat being considered in the supermarket than a woman he found attractive. He smiled as he laced up his gloves and his eyes narrowed. Maybe she was prey. He put a guard over his perfect teeth and Jacquie wondered why.
“Club rules,” she reminded him. “No face shots.”
“You might miss,” he said easily and Jacquie bristled that he could imagine she was so incompetent. He raised his fists and made a little jab, egging her on.
The fight was completely different from her other matches. Luke held back, a lot, as if he knew he could defeat her easily, and that might influence the chances of him getting lucky. He didn’t take a strike for ages, so she did—and he ducked, but really late, so her glove grazed his shoulder.
“Whoa. Point to you,” he said, pretending admiration. “You’re fast.”
Jacquie felt her lips tighten, but she circled him, waiting for his move.
Unfortunately, he wanted to talk.
“Meesha tells me you’re looking for companionship,” he said, that gaze sliding over her again. “By strange coincidence, so am I.”
“Really.”
He did a one-two punch, both of them soft and barely touching Jacquie. He was playing with her and it was insulting. There was nothing she hated more than condescension.
“You work with Meesha here in the club office?”
“Yes.” Jacquie understood that he’d been completely oblivious to her presence until Meesha’d spoken to him about her, even though she’d seen him around the club. Obviously, she was only of interest now because Meesha had told him she was looking for a hook-up.
If he thought she’d be easy, he could think again.
“Receptionist?”
“Human resources manager.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.” He didn’t look or sound impressed. “Do you have to go to college for that?”
“Yes,” Jacquie replied, unimpressed by his attitude. “What do you do?” she asked as if neither knew nor cared. “Work in a mail room somewhere?”
He chuckled. “Senior partner,” he said proudly, naming a big law firm. “Prosecution. Don’t get any ideas, honey: I don’t have time for a relationship and I don’t need a wife.”
Honey.
“Neither do I,” Jacquie said sweetly.
Luke laughed. His eyes glittered, a sure warning that he was going to move, and he tried his little one-two punch again. Jacquie blocked him, twisted, hit him, then swept his feet out from beneath him when he was off-balance. He went down hard and lay there blinking for a long moment, stunned that he was on his back on the floor.
Probably that a woman had put him there.
“You can’t be hurt,” Jacquie said when he didn’t get up. “And we’re not done.”
“Looks like you are.”
Jacquie spun to find Pierce leaning in the doorway. Her heart skipped and she felt his damn sizzle. The air seemed alive between them, charged with an electricity that stole her breath away. How did he do that?
He was wearing his street clothes one more time, and she was disappointed one more time. He nodded approval at her as Luke rolled to his feet. “Nice sequence.”
Jacquie felt herself flush with pleasure and knew that Luke noticed.
“Aston,” he said as he rose to his feet and brushed himself off. “I was, uh, letting the lady try some moves on me.”
“Of course, you were,” Pierce agreed easily.
“Maybe it was just my lucky gloves,” Jacquie said and Pierce smiled.
“No, I don’t think so. You were defeating all comers even before you had them.” He stepped into the studio, offering her a business card.
Jacquie removed one glove and took it. Silver Fox Security, it said on one side, with a bullet list of services, then Pierce’s name and contact information.
He really was doing it.
She stomped hard on her second thoughts and tried to ignore the way her blood simmered with the awareness of Pierce being just a step away.
She’d kissed him in this studio once. The first time. She wanted to do it again.
“Other side,” he said and Jacquie turned over the card. There was a name written there with a phone number.
She met his gaze, puzzled. “Mitchell’s boss was a Mr. Abernethy.”
He nodded at the card. “Same Mr. Abernethy.”
“What did he say?”
“He’s pretty sure he knows what happened. I think you should talk to him.”
“Is this a work number?”
“No, he’s retired in Connecticut. I went up and talked to him today. Nice man.”
“Yes,” Jacquie said nodding in recollection. “He was a nice man. He even came to the funeral.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Pierce said and she looked up to meet his gaze. “Call him, Jacquie,” he said gently. “It’s his story to tell.”
“I’m sorry we argued,” she said quietly.
Pierce’s gaze darkened. “So am I. Still friends?”
“Still friends,” Jacquie agreed, knowing that wasn’t enough.
Pierce nodded. “Take care.” He looked over her shoulder to Luke and raised his voice slightly. “Sorry to interrupt, Patrick. I’ll leave you to it.”
“No, I’m done for the night, thanks,” Luke said. “Early morning in court.” He gave Jacquie a dark look as he followed Pierce. “Just because you got lucky doesn’t mean you won,” he growled as he passed her.
But Jacquie knew that it did.
Pierce arrived home that night to discover a mark on the threshold of his
