by Jo McNally
“No, no. Of course not.” Her face warmed.
“Then why was Nick apologizing?”
She busied herself moving papers around on her desk. She didn’t want Blake fretting about her.
“I have no idea. Honestly, everything’s fine.”
Blake watched her for another moment, then shrugged and turned away. Before she could relax, Nick strolled out of his office with a file in his hand. He slowed as he passed her, his voice low and just for her ears.
“Five o’clock in the gym?” Worried that Blake might still be listening, she nodded, not even looking up. Nick reached out and knocked over her stapler with his finger as he passed, causing her to jump.
She reached for the stapler with a roll of her eyes.
“West!” Blake shouted from his office. “Come on, man!”
Nick gave her a playful grin. “Later, slugger.”
The door to Blake’s office had barely closed when Amanda Randall arrived, tanned and smiling. She set a paper bag on the corner of Cassie’s desk.
“I’m betting you haven’t had lunch yet, right?”
Cassie reached for the bag eagerly. Amanda was a great cook, which had never been Cassie’s strong point. “No, but something tells me I’m going to have lunch now.”
Amanda sat in one of the chairs by the window. “Only if you like roast beef sandwiches with cheddar cheese and horseradish sauce. Hey, the girls and I are going to the Chalet tonight for pizza. Wanna join us?” As much as Cassie liked “the girls”—Amanda’s cousins Nora, who owned the coffee shop, and Melanie, who owned a clothing boutique in town—she had another commitment tonight that she was oddly reluctant to cancel.
“I can’t, but thanks anyway.”
Amanda, for all her blond curls, baby blue eyes and bubbly demeanor, was a smart and intuitive woman. “Can’t? Or won’t? I don’t like the thought of you sitting alone in that apartment all the time. Being a hermit isn’t good for you.”
Being a hermit kept her safe, but she didn’t bother reminding her friend of that. Amanda’s assumption that she was turning into a recluse, while true, still rankled.
“I actually have plans tonight.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them. Now she was going to have to explain something she wasn’t sure she even understood.
“I’m sorry... What? You have plans? What kind of plans?”
She stalled by taking a bite of the sandwich. “Oh, wow, this is delicious...”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Amanda took the arm of Cassie’s chair and turned it so they faced each other. “Now tell me about these ‘plans’ of yours.”
She glanced at Blake’s closed door and lowered her voice. “I’m...meeting with Nick West at five o’clock.” She took another bite of the sandwich, watching the speculation in Amanda’s eyes.
“Meeting him for...?”
“A training session of sorts.” More sandwich. The heck with stalling. The sandwich was really just that good.
Amanda leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and folding her arms.
“Honey, I have two children. One’s a teenager and one’s a toddler. They will both tell you that I always sniff out the truth no matter how long it takes, so you may as well spill it.”
Cassie set the sandwich down on a napkin, nodding in surrender.
“He’s teaching me self-defense.”
Cassie’s mouth and eyes went round simultaneously.
“Nick West? Nick West, the hot security guy?”
“Shh! He’s in Blake’s office, for God’s sake.”
Amanda lowered her voice, but not her astonishment.
“Nick West is teaching you self-defense? As in, really teaching you? One-on-one? Or is this some class he’s offering?”
“It’s a...private class.”
“Holy shit, what happened to you in the week I was gone? You’re going to let a hot hunk of man show you self-defense moves? Let him touch you? Learn to throw him down on the floor? Of course, now that I’ve met the guy, I wouldn’t mind throwing him down myself!”
“It’s not like that. And you’re married. To Nick’s boss.”
“Hey, just because I’m married to the sexiest man I know doesn’t mean I’m blind. But I’m more interested in what you think. The guy just got here, and you’ve become such good friends that you’re okay engaging in hand-to-hand combat with him? All sweaty, up close and personal? That’s not the Cassie I left in Gallant Lake last week.” Her smile faded. “Wait, did something happen? Are you doing this because Don did something?”
Cassie was so caught up in the thought of “up close and personal” that she almost didn’t answer. And when she did, she once again shared more than she’d intended.
“I pepper-sprayed him.”
“Who? Don?”
“Of course not! Nick. He startled me in the parking lot last Friday night and I hit him with pepper spray. He was somewhat critical of my technique.”
Amanda’s look of horror quickly slid into one of great amusement. “You pepper-sprayed the new head of security? Here at the resort? That’s priceless! Does Blake know?”
“Not from me. And I doubt Nick’s bragging about it, since it didn’t end well for him.”
“So you assaulted the man and he responded by generously offering to give you private self-defense lessons? Why?”
And that was just one of several hundred-thousand-dollar questions, wasn’t it? Why was Nick offering to help her? Why had she agreed? And would there really be sweaty, up-close contact in the process? And how exactly did she feel about that?
* * *
Nick had been in the resort’s third-floor workout room for a full fifteen minutes with no sign of Cassie. Looked like she was going to blow him off. He was half hoping she would quit. Offering private lessons was a bad idea on a couple of levels. It was probably considered unprofessional—it showed favoritism, or something. It could be taken the wrong way, for sure. Was it creepy? Forward? She didn’t seem any more interested in him than he was in her, though. She was a looker, but he’d never been drawn to meek women.
He moved from the treadmill to the free weights. He should have told her to go take a class or read a book or a dozen other things besides offering to train her personally. After all, while she was at work, his security team would keep her safe. And when she wasn’t at work, it was none of his business. If she didn’t show up today, he’d urge her to go find a gym somewhere and relieve himself of the responsibility. He’d learned with Jada that getting involved in solving someone else’s problems only led to heartache.
There was a movement near the door and he looked up to find Cassie watching him, her eyes dark and unreadable. Her hair was pulled back into her usual ponytail. She wore a baggy gray sweatshirt over black leggings, with a pair of sneakers that looked new. So she’d been paying attention on Monday when he told her those old canvas flats were not going to cut it for actual exercise. That was good. It meant that, despite her skepticism, she was taking this seriously. Which meant there was no good way to get out of teaching her what she needed to know.
He set the weights down quietly, conscious of her aversion to loud noises.
“You’re late.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “I had a last-minute call, and then I had to change. I’m sorry...” Her brows furrowed that way they always did when she said those two words. As if they were acid on her lips. Her shoulders straightened. “But I’m here now, so we should get sweaty...I mean...busy.”
He laughed at her stammered words. “Sweaty, huh? We can do sweaty if you want, but I think we should take it slow. I want to show you some basics today that you won’t need a lot of strength for.”
“You’re the instructor.”
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt for you to get sweaty once in a while.” Her eyes went big and he laughed again. “I meant you
should start some strength training and maybe some running. The stronger you are, the more confident you’ll feel, and the more effective you’ll be.”
She scoffed. “Running? You think I should start running? I don’t think so.”
“If not running, then find something you enjoy that will give you some cardio and strength. Go hiking, or mountain biking, or anything. I’m telling you, Cassie, the more you move, the better you’ll understand your body, and the better you’ll be at defending yourself. Not to mention it’s just healthy to do.”
She looked at him for a long moment before shaking her head. “I’m not looking to become some health nut or kickboxer. Let’s stick to the plan. Teach me the basics.”
“You need to warm up first. Give me fifteen minutes on the elliptical.”
“Why?”
“As you said, I’m the instructor. And you’re my little grasshopper, so hop on that machine and show me what you got.”
She obeyed, but not happily. “I don’t understand what this has to do with self-defense. I’m not going to be able to elliptic away from someone.” After only a few minutes, she was puffing for air and grimacing. Her legs were probably already cramping. She was in worse shape than he’d thought. He grabbed a fresh bottle of water from his bag and handed it to her. She came to a stop.
“If you can’t make it five minutes on this machine, you aren’t going to be able to do diddly against an attacker. You think you can fight a man the size of me or bigger? When you’re standing there wheezing at me after doing basically nothing?” He didn’t let her reply, grabbing the bottle from her hands and gesturing to her to get moving. “Okay, new plan. You hit this room every morning, and you get on the elliptical and go until you can’t go anymore. Eventually, you’ll be going thirty minutes or more, and you’ll thank me for how great you feel.”
“Don’t...hold your...breath...”
It was ironic, listening to her talk about breath when she didn’t have any. He gave her a wide grin.
“Okay, let’s review while you’re warming up. I’m an attacker. I’m six feet away and coming at you. What do you do?”
“I...use the...pepper spray...” She huffed out the words between gasps for air.
He shook his head. “Do you have pepper spray in your hands right now?”
She shot him a glare. “No!”
“Then forget it. If the perp is within twenty feet and running at you, you don’t have time to dig in your purse for pepper spray. Same with a gun. Unless it’s in your hand at that point, it’s useless.”
“I don’t...want a...gun.”
He rubbed the left side of his face. “Yeah, you’re dangerous enough with pepper spray. I hate to think what you’d have done the other night with a handgun. So what do you do?”
“Scream?”
He shrugged. “Meh. It’s not a bad thing, but it’s not going to save you unless you’re lucky enough to have the dumbest bad guy in the world and he’s attacking you in a public place. Try again.”
“Hit...him?”
“Where? With what?”
“I don’t... Oh, shit... I can’t...do this.” She stopped moving. “Okay, maybe you’re right about my conditioning.” A soft sheen of sweat covered her face. “I’d hit him with my fist.”
“Yeah?” Nick folded his arms on his chest. “Show me a fist.”
She did what so many inexperienced fighters do. She folded her fingers over her thumb and into a fist.
“Do you intend to hit me as hard as you can with that fist? Maybe right on my jaw?”
She looked at her fist, frowning, as if she knew this was a trick question. Finally she nodded, but without conviction.
“Cassie, if you hit me hard with your hand folded like that, you’ll not only break your damn thumb, but you won’t hurt me at all. Go ahead, get off the elliptical and take a swing in my direction. Punch at my hand.” He saw the doubt in her eyes. “I won’t let you hurt yourself. I’m just trying to show you how limited your motion is with your hand like that.”
She took a swing, hitting the flat of his hand, but he didn’t offer any resistance, letting his hand come away.
“Okay. Now make a fist with your thumb outside your fingers, like this.” He clenched his hand in a fist, releasing it the minute he saw her skin go pale. Shit. She’d seen a man’s fist before. He swallowed hard. “Show me.”
She did as he asked. He took her hand and moved her thumb, then curled her wrist so her knuckles were forward. “Now hit my hand. And put some oomph behind it. Start with your body low and rise up into the punch.”
Her first attempt wasn’t half-bad. Her next few were better, as she started to grasp the concept of lowering her center of gravity and propelling upward with her body, not just her small fist. When she actually connected with his hand with enough force to send it snapping back, she flashed him a wide grin.
“I did it!”
“You did. But throwing a punch is going to be your last resort. You need to know how to do it, but honestly, unless you connect with the guy’s nose, or maybe the center of his chest, you’re not going to stop him. He’ll return the punch and it’ll be lights out for you unless it’s an eighty-year-old mugger.”
Her eyes narrowed in on him. “So I can’t use pepper spray and I can’t scream and I can’t punch. What do I do, just stand there?”
His curiosity got the best of him.
“What happened to you, Cassie? Were you assaulted? Mugged?”
She stepped back and visibly shrank before his eyes, shoulders dropping, head lowered, gaze fixed on the floor by his feet.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His chest tightened at some of the darker possibilities.
“I get that, but it would help me to know what’s driving your fear.”
She stared at the floor so long and so intently he wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke started rising from near his feet. He’d done enough interrogations to know that it was human instinct to fill a silence with words. He could wait her out, but she wasn’t a perp. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it, painting a picture he was hoping not to see.
“I was in a parking garage. At night. He came from between two cars. I was checking my phone and he was on me before I knew it.” Her voice was monotone, like a robot reciting a programmed recording. “That’s all you need to know.”
“That’s why you’re so vigilant now. And jumpy.”
Her head snapped up. “I’m not that jumpy.”
“Says the woman who threw a stapler at my head and pepper-sprayed me in the face.”
A trace of a smile tugged at her mouth.
“Okay. I’m jumpy. And I hate it.”
He nodded, considering the best way to come at this problem. The “problem” at hand being Cassie’s fear. He’d deal with the problem of his physical reaction to her vulnerability—a trait he generally abhorred in women—when he was alone and could think more clearly.
“Look, if a guy is coming at you with the intent to do you harm, you need to fight. Show him you mean business. Plant your feet wide and solid, like this.” He took up a fighter’s stance, and she did her best to mimic it. “Get in his face. Make noise. Fight like hell, and fight dirty.”
“You said not to scream.”
“No, I said it probably wouldn’t do any good. But I’m not talking about screaming. I’m talking about noise. Aggressive noise. Have you ever watched karate or judo or even tennis?” She nodded. “Did you notice how some players make loud noises as they’re swinging? Even if they’re just chopping a wooden board? That sound makes them feel more powerful. It’s more like a roar than a scream, and you can learn to do that once your confidence gets better.”
He stepped up in front of her, hating the way she shrank back, but not reacting to it. She was going to have to get used to this. “When the attacker is up close a
nd personal, look to find a weak spot.”
“You mean his balls?”
He barked out a laugh. “No, that’s another lesson, when I’m wearing protection. Look at my face. What are my weak spots there?”
She studied him intently, and he did his best not to fidget under her examination. There was something about her gaze that made him energized and restless. Uncomfortable and excited at the same time. The sensation kicked him way outside his comfort zone.
“You told me about the eyes already.”
“What else do you see that’s vulnerable?”
“Your nose?”
“Right. But here’s the key—don’t swing at it from the side. Come at it from below, with the heel of your hand slamming up against it. Picture yourself driving his nose right into his skull. It’ll hurt like hell, and it could give you a chance to break free. Like this.” He took her hand and pressed it against the base of his own nose. And damned if he didn’t have the crazy urge to kiss the palm of her hand. He shook it off and tried to stay focused. “But just like the punch, put your whole body into it. Think of every move as your only shot.” She pressed against his nose and he grinned at her. “We won’t be practicing that one. At least not on me. Now what else do you see that’s vulnerable?”
Her eyes darkened when her gaze fell to his mouth. He did his best to ignore the stirring he felt below his waist. It was a normal response to a pretty woman studying his mouth, right?
“Yes, the mouth can be vulnerable. It’s not the best place to start, but lips are tender. Pinch, bite or smack him with your elbow, like this.” In slow motion, he swung his elbow out and stopped an inch from her mouth. “If you’ve got room to swing, use your elbow before you use your fist. It’s harder and more likely to do harm without hurting yourself in the process. What else?”
“I don’t know. That’s about it, right?”
He moved his hands to each side of her face and gently tugged on her ears. Her eyes met his, and it took all his focus to stay on topic. “No one likes having their ears yanked. And if you really latch on and pull, the guy will be screaming. If you’re in close contact and your hands are free, don’t hesitate to pull on those ears as hard as you can.” He released her ears, but his fingers lingered, brushing back her hair and stroking the tender skin of her neck... What the hell? He pulled his hands back and stepped away from Cassie. She looked as confused as he felt. But she hadn’t stopped him. Interesting. He cleared his throat.