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“Thanks. You always come to Jamie’s training sessions?” Cooper asked. He hoped he wasn’t going to have problems with the old guy countermanding orders or sticking his oar in.
“Nope. Just wanted to check this place out, make sure it’s everything Jimmy seems to think it is,” Arthur said.
By which the old guy meant check Cooper out.
Cooper was about to respond when he registered that Jamie had moved onto the long bag and was pounding it with a series of powerful kicks.
“Excuse me,” he said. He strode across the floorboards and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of her.
She stopped. Her eyebrows rose toward her hairline as she registered his annoyance.
“What now?”
“From now on, I don’t ever want to see you using your legs to fight again. You got that?” he said. “You’re a boxer. Boxers fight with their fists, not their feet.”
“What?” Her silver eyes flashed defiance. “It’s a good workout, a good warm-up.”
“You lost that first fight and you nearly lost last night because you’re used to relying on your legs too much. Every time you want to fire off a roundhouse or a back kick, you lose precious seconds reminding yourself that you’re in a boxing ring and only your fists are legal,” he said.
She shook her head. “No way. I lost that fight because she was faster than me.”
Why was he surprised that she was disagreeing with him at the very first hurdle? Had he honestly expected anything less from a woman with so much attitude?
He was tempted to yell at her the way his first trainer used to yell at him back when he was young and hot-tempered and lacking in discipline. But Jamie was a smart fighter. She learned quickly when she wanted to—she’d shown him that in spades last night when she took his advice and knocked her opponent out. He wanted to harness those smarts straight off the bat. Going head-to-head with her wasn’t going to achieve that.
“You warm enough to go a few rounds?” he asked.
She looked surprised that he wasn’t pressing the issue.
“Sure.”
Cooper scanned the gym, honing in on Mick. At around a hundred and sixty pounds, Mick was a middleweight like Jamie and only had an inch on her in height.
“Mickey, suit up. I want you to go a few rounds with Jamie,” Cooper called out.
Mick looked as though all his Christmases had come at once. Cooper rolled his eyes. The sooner the rest of the team started to see Jamie as one of the boys, the better.
One of the gym assistants helped Jamie tape and glove up and fitted her with a padded head-guard while Cooper did the same with Mick.
“I don’t want you to go easy on her,” he instructed as he worked.
Mick kept throwing glances Jamie’s way, especially when she pulled off her T-shirt to reveal a tight-fitting sports crop top. Cooper grabbed the other man’s chin and brought his gaze back to meet his own.
“Listen to me. I want you to press her—not too hard, she’s probably still feeling last night’s fight. But I want you to make her sweat, okay?”
Mick nodded. Checking the laces on Mick’s gloves, Cooper gave him the all clear and held the ropes for him to climb into the ring. Then he signaled for Jason, one of his gym assistants.
“Yeah, boss?” Jason asked, his attention glued to Jamie.
“Grab the video camera. I want you to get everything she does,” he instructed.
It was a common enough tool—football players used tape all the time to review plays and understand their own strengths and weaknesses. Jamie was so stubborn and strong-willed that he knew the only way she’d understand his no-kick rule would be if she saw her faulty footwork herself.
Cooper glanced across to see Arthur had joined him, arms crossed over his chest.
“This’ll be interesting.”
“At the very least,” Cooper said.
They grinned at each other. Arthur had a tooth missing, a common hazard for boxers despite the protection of mouth guards. Curious, Cooper studied the other marks that boxing had left on the old guy’s face.
“You used to fight, Ray said?” Cooper asked.
“Did he? Yeah, I’ve seen a few rounds,” Arthur said with a shrug. He kept his focus on the two fighters warming up in the ring and didn’t offer up anything more.
Taciturn old bugger.
Cooper switched his attention back to the ring.
“Okay, let’s get into it,” he ordered.
Jamie and Mick met in the center and tapped gloves before falling into orthodox stances and starting to circle one another. True to form, Jamie was the first to move in, feinting with her right before hitting Mick’s torso with a left cross. Mick let her get a few shots in before he began to work her over. None of the hits were hard or intended to hurt, but both fighters had worked up a sweat within minutes and it didn’t take long for Jamie’s footwork to become compromised as she began to feel the pressure.
Cooper let them fight for a few more minutes before calling a halt.
“Thanks, Mick. Nice work. Jamie, my office,” he said.
Grabbing the video camera from Jason, he led the way to his domain.
By the time Jamie followed a minute later, towel in hand and without her gloves and head gear, he had the camera hooked up to the TV and the tape ready to play.
Jamie’s expression was wary as he gestured her toward a chair opposite his own.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to film us,” she said.
“Didn’t I?”
She was still breathing heavily. In the enclosed space of his office he was very aware of her scent—something fresh and bright that he guessed was her deodorant.
Instead of taking a chair, she leaned against his desk, her butt propped on the edge. He had to force his gaze away from her long legs as she crossed her ankles and leaned back on her arms.
For a fleeting second, he allowed himself to wonder what those thighs would feel like clenched around him as he pounded into her.
“Well, go on,” she said.
He hit the play button and they both watched the opening few skirmishes. As Mick picked up the pace, the first of Jamie’s hesitations appeared.
“Kick,” Cooper said, just in case she hadn’t seen it. “And another one, and another one. You don’t actually throw them, of course, but they’re there. You want to fight with your feet so bad it hurts.”
Her mouth and face grew tight as she watched herself make the same mistake over and over. Finally she called a halt.
“Okay. I get it. You’ve made your point.”
He switched the television off.
“You’ve got some bad habits we need to break.”
She nodded. “Yep. How?”
“I’ve got a few ideas.”
He outlined them to her as she patted the sweat off her face and chest. He followed her movements with his eyes, imagining what her breasts would look like naked, how heavy and smooth they’d feel in his hands. A bead of sweat raced down her belly and he barely resisted the urge to lean forward and trace its path with his tongue. She’d taste sweet and salty at the same time, he bet…
Registering that he had a hard-on, he rolled his chair closer to the desk. He had to stop thinking like this.
“It’s not going to be easy,” he concluded. “It’s going to take time and effort.”
“I’ve got time. I’ve got effort,” she said, straightening from her slouching position against his desk.
Once again, he struggled to keep his gaze on her face.
“Okay. Let’s get started,” he said.
She opened the door and hovered, waiting for him to join her.
“I’ve got to make a quick phone call,” he lied. “You start in on the speedball.”
She exited and he ran a hand through his hair.
His possessiveness where she was concerned, his hyperawareness of her physically, his constant slide into sexual fantasy, the huge freakin’ boner in his pants—it all had to stop. She had come to him for one purpose. She was his fighter now, not an object of lust.
He was her trainer, her mentor, her guide, and she was officially off-limits.
Man, but this was going to be one hell of a test of his willpower.
BY THE TIME SHE was heading into the change rooms after her first session with Cooper, Jamie knew that he was a far better trainer than she’d ever imagined. She also knew that he was the most sexually desirable man she’d ever known.
It was his attitude, the feeling she got when she was around him, as much as his body—although that was pretty damned impressive all on its own. Even though she’d taken pains to disguise her interest, she’d been unable to stop herself from watching him as he moved around the gym in between giving her instructions. His arms alone were enough to make her knees weak—solid, round with muscle, strong. When he demon-strated a technique on the speedball to one of the younger fighters, she’d paused in her own workout to watch the muscles of his back and arms in action. Nice. Very nice.
Then there was his butt. Simply watching it flex as he walked made her fingers curl. She knew from watching his fights that he had a broad chest with well-defined pecs and abdominal muscles, and she closed her eyes as she stood beneath the shower, imagining how it would feel to have her breasts pressed up against all that masculine hardness. As the water pounded down on her, she slid her hands over her soapy breasts and down between her thighs, imagining it was his fingers finding her damp and ready for him.
Abruptly she became aware of what she was doing—eroticizing her hard-won trainer on day one. She switched the water to full cold.
She knew herself well enough to understand that the simmering desire she was feeling wasn’t going to evaporate. She either had to learn to control it and ignore it, or she had to neutralize it.
As she dressed, her thoughts flew to the handful of men she could call on for casual sex if and when she wanted it. She’d never been sentimental about sleeping with the opposite sex—not for a long time, anyway—and it was a mindset that had always served her well. Human beings had needs—food, shelter, sex. Not necessarily in that order, depending on what else was going on in a person’s life. Right now, for whatever reason, she needed sex. Since she couldn’t get it from Cooper, for a variety of very sensible and rational reasons, she would look else-where.
She grabbed her phone from her workout bag and called Dean, her most recent lover. He was flatteringly pleased to hear from her, but couldn’t hook up until Thursday night.
Today was Monday. She frowned. She felt distinctly edgy at the prospect of having to wait that long until she could feel a man’s naked body pressed against her own.
“Are you still there, Jimmy?” Dean asked when the silence between them had stretched too long.
“Sure, I’m here. And Thursday is fine,” she assured him quickly. Honestly, how hard up was she, anyway? “I’ll come to your place, okay?”
The one down side to living with her grandfather was that it made entertaining at her place next to impossible. Not that she was keen to inflict her dumpy little dive on any of her lovers. When she remembered the way things used to be, the beautiful things her mother had collected, the sumptuous furniture her father had insisted on…
She zipped her bag shut with a firm hand. The world had moved on, and she was in the process of clawing back some of what had been lost. There was no point in dwelling on the past.
Steeling herself for one last encounter with Cooper before she could escape for the day, Jamie headed into the gym.
She could feel a bunch of male eyes tracking her as she made her way to Cooper’s office to say goodbye. They’d get used to her. Most fighters’ gyms were light on for women, but they would get over the fact that she looked different from them soon enough. Especially when they realized she wasn’t about to sleep with any of them—including Cooper.
Cooper’s office was empty when she ducked her head in. She scanned the gym, wondering if she’d missed him in a corner somewhere. She hadn’t. He’d gone. Without saying goodbye.
He’s your trainer. Like it matters if you say hello or goodbye or up your nose with a rubber hose to him. The only thing that matters is that he knows how to help you become the best.
She shook off the moment of stupidity. Her grandfather was waiting for her near the door and she forced a smile and gave him a wave.
Roll on Thursday.
She had a feeling she was going to need every inch of Dean’s work-hardened body by the time their date rolled around.
HOW COULD A PERSON feel so much frustration and so much satisfaction at the same time?
It was a question that dogged Cooper over the next few days as he guided Jamie’s training sessions. She was a fast learner—much smarter and more intuitive than Ray or the other two promising young guys he’d taken on. Not that he would ever voice that thought aloud—there was enough male-female politics clogging up the airwaves in the gym without him throwing another element into the mix.
She knew her body extremely well and only had to listen once when he explained something before she was able to adapt her stance or her action and demonstrate what he was looking for. She was also responding well to his retraining exercises, although she’d grumbled the first time he’d strapped the five-pound soft weights around her ankles. But the added weight at her feet was having the desired affect—every time she lifted her foot following the instinct to kick in defense or attack, she registered the extra load and became conscious of what she was doing. He was confident they would soon rid her of her that fatal hesitation—and once that was gone he had the feeling he was going to have a truly exceptional fighter on his hands.
That was where the satisfaction part came from. He’d made the right decision in taking her on. She was so driven and committed and full of potential that she deserved a chance to go as far as she could.
His simultaneous frustration stemmed from the fact that while every day brought progress in her skill level, it also inevitably brought a new form of torture for his already tightly leashed libido.
He was going insane with wanting her and not being able to have her. He’d never been so hot for a woman before. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t have her. Or perhaps it was something unique to Jamie. Whatever, it was driving him around the bend and leaving him in severe danger of suffering the first case of blue balls he’d had since his teen years.
He’d had his hands on her enough now, shifting her body into position, guiding her, to know exactly how good she felt. Pretty damn good, was the answer.
But his lust had moved on from simply wanting to know her physically.
Now his fantasies involved wanting to hear that husky voice of hers cry out in ecstasy. He wanted to look into her beautiful eyes and see her lose her mind a little. She was always so focused and intent—he wanted her soft and pliant and wanting in his arms, in his bed.
So, yeah, he was just a little frustrated. With himself, with his body, with the fact that he was in an impossible situation that didn’t look as if it would resolve itself anytime soon.
It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried to take care of business with someone more suitable. He’d taken one of his casual girlfriends out on Tuesday night and hadn’t been able to muster even a fraction of the desire he felt for Jamie. Kara was a flight attendant, gorgeous and blond, a woman he’d had plenty of no-strings good times with in the past. He’d been sure she’d do the trick, but after a bout of lackluster kissing and fumbling in his Ferrari, he’d been forced to give up the attempt as a bad joke and drive her home, shaken to realize that wanting Jamie had killed him below the waist where other women were concerned.
Really freakin’ great. Talk about being between a rock and a hard-on.
