Hard To Tame. Kylie Brant
Her hand faltered, very slightly, in the act of setting down her glass. “Fine, why?”
His smile was faint. “Liar. But that will change. You’ll be tired enough from our daily workouts to get a decent night’s rest. Sleep is important to overall health, too.”
She was starting to get a really bad feeling about all this. “What did you have in mind?”
The wariness in her voice seemed to amuse him. “Nothing too diabolical. Daily running. Conditioning. Self-defense tactics. Have you been following any sort of fitness regime?”
It was all she could do not to laugh. “No, I’ve been kept rather busy working for a living.” And staying alive.
Imperturbably, he wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose. “Put on a pair of tennis shoes and meet me outside.” He left the room, seemingly unaware of her glare. She really shouldn’t be surprised that he was a man used to issuing orders. But she’d never been particularly fond of following someone else’s directives. The time was nearing for Nick Doucet to find that out for himself.
An hour later she was bent over, hands resting on her knees, breath sawing in and out of tortured lungs. She hated running, always had. Wasn’t this why she’d failed gym in ninth grade? Well, that, and the fact she’d skipped the class most weeks. Even then development of a healthy lifestyle had been the least of her worries.
She heard footsteps approaching, then a pair of hard masculine legs filled her vision. Refusing to look up, she willed her breathing to even out.
“Not bad for the first time. We’ll try again after supper, see if you can push it a little farther.”
Without changing position, she slowly raised her head. “You have got to be kidding.” Didn’t he realize that she’d felt like dropping ten minutes ago? It had taken sheer stubborn pride to get her this far, and she knew darn well they hadn’t been jogging for more than twenty minutes.
“C’mon. You can walk back.”
Crawling was more her speed at this point, but it seemed she had more pride than sense. She straightened, turned back toward his house. “Look,” she said, when she could speak without wheezing. “I appreciate the thought you’ve put into this.”
That put another of those faint smiles on his lips. “No, you don’t. But you will.”
He wanted honesty? Fine. “You’re right, I don’t. I also don’t see the point.”
“Running is good conditioning, and speed can also come in handy if someone is after you.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” she asked, not bothering to disguise the sarcasm in her tone. “I could have outrun that bullet yesterday.”
He was showing an irritating ability to ignore her. “If you’re in shape, you can fight back. I don’t mean like taking on a guy twice your size, but having some moves that can injure him so you can get away.” He cast a critical gaze up and down her form. “You’ve got a good stride and you don’t run like a girl. Those are two factors in your favor.”
She wondered what she ran like if it wasn’t a girl, but wisely refrained from asking. Her breath was better saved for getting back to his place without embarrassing herself.
He allowed her to collapse for half an hour in one of the chairs on his deck, and drink two glasses of ice water, before nudging her again. “All right. It’s time for the next round.”
She didn’t bother to open her eyes. “No.”
A moment ticked by. And then another. It took effort not to look at him. She could feel his calm perusal of her still form. But in the next moment her eyes flew open, in alarm, as she found herself being carried off in his arms. “Nick! Put me down.”
“Of course.” Despite the agreeable tone, he didn’t set her on her feet until they’d reached the destination he’d obviously had in mind. The room at the back of the house held various pieces of weight training equipment, with a plastic-encased foam mat on the floor.
Her patience snapped. “I’m not doing this, do you understand? I have no interest in learning karate or whatever the heck you want to teach me.”
He slipped out of his shoes. “Teaching you the martial arts would require a bit more time than we have to spend. All I’m going to do is show you some basic defense maneuvers that might buy you some time or scare off a mugger.”
A mugger? She almost gave an incredulous laugh. As if a mugger was at the top of her worries. Victor Mannen hadn’t hired muggers to stalk her for the last six years. It wasn’t losing her purse that she feared every time she walked down the street. Nick might think he was helping her with this crazy self-defense and conditioning course he was embarked on, but she’d found the best defense was not to get caught in the first place. She preferred to expend her energies to that end.
“Take off your shoes and socks.”
“No. I’m not doing this.”
With a shrug he approached her on the mat, and she warily backed away. “Let’s start with the basics. If you see the guy before he grabs you, you’ve got the chance to run. But what if he comes up on you from behind?” With one smooth movement he stepped in back of her, clasped one arm lightly around her neck. “Show me what you would do to escape from this hold.”
Ice splintered in her veins. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. “Let me go.” The demand wasn’t as strong as she would have liked, but its message was clear.
“There are three ways to break a hold like this, and I’ll teach you all of them.”
She knew that low voice in her ear belonged to Nick. Logically she knew it. But logic didn’t always dictate emotion.
“I mean it, Nick. Let me go, now!”
“Show me what you’d do, Amber. The guy has you like this, leaving his other hand free to—”
His words were cut off as she erupted in a flurry of motion. Blinded by panic as she was, there was no strategy in her movements. Only instinct, raw and primal, screaming for release. She was a whirlwind of biting, kicking, scratching, gouging actions, with real fear as the impetus. It was long moments before she became aware that she was free; even longer before Nick’s voice, soothing, with an underlying note of grimness, registered. “It’s all right, Amber. It’s all right. No one’s touching you, see? There’s no one here.” He used the same rhythmic cadence he would use to calm a frightened animal. “Take my hand.” She stared at it, outstretched toward her. There were angry scratches on the back of his wrist. Scratches she’d put there. She shuddered, wrapped her arms around herself.
“Take my hand, Amber. I’m not going to hurt you. Look at me.”
But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to see his expression, whether it be one of horrified fascination, or something even worse. Didn’t want to stand before him, raw and more exposed than she’d been in years. Demons could lurk inside for any number of years, partially hidden, tempting one to believe they didn’t exist anymore. It made it all the more bitter when they sprang forth, mocking her efforts to keep them buried.
She lurched forward, not sure her feet would work, half-surprised when they did. Brushing past his outstretched hand, she crossed the room, praying for the strength to make it upstairs. And wishing with all her heart that she’d never accepted Nick Doucet’s offer of help.
Nick made no move to stop her. When she’d turned toward him again he’d been prepared for tears, would have preferred them to the haunted look in her eyes. That look had hit him with a force far greater than any of the blows she’d managed to land.
He rubbed his hand over his jaw, more shaken than he’d like to admit. The woman was having too great an effect on him, so much so that he couldn’t even predict his own reactions. It was a totally unfamiliar occurrence, and it couldn’t be allowed to continue.
He