Bound: The Mastered Series

by Lorelei James

“Ronin,” he corrected.

  “Okay, Ronin. What brings you by today?”

  “I want to hire you.”

  She hadn’t been expecting that—and maybe she felt a tiny kernel of disappointment that he wasn’t here because he intended to act on this undeniable attraction between them.

  Maybe he’s disappointed that you haven’t acknowledged how much he helped you out yesterday.

  Guilt for her oversight caused her to blurt out, “Thank you for sticking around and dealing with the glass installers yesterday morning after I went comatose.”

  “You’re welcome. The workers didn’t milk the installation time with me watching them.”

  She suspected Master Black’s displeased glare was hot enough to melt glass.

  “Besides, it gave me a chance to look at your graphic art work more closely and decide to hire you.”

  “Hire me for what?”

  “To create a new logo for Black Arts. I’d like to scrap what we’ve got and start from scratch. Is that a project you’d be interested in tackling?”

  I’d rather tackle you.

  She fought the pull of this man’s incredible magnetism and put a lid on those I want to jump you thoughts that were so unlike her. “I’m always interested in taking on new projects.”

  “Good. Because I brought this.” Ronin sauntered into her office and handed her a rolled-up sheaf of papers. “Our current logo. Black Arts has always kept a low profile, which suits me. But my instructors have pointed out that we need an updated official logo that can be screen-printed on the back of gis and used for patches so Black Arts students are more recognizable when they compete in tournaments.”

  “You don’t seem very enthusiastic about that prospect.”

  His eyes never strayed from her face. “I’m enthusiastic about the prospect of working with you.”

  Amery’s pulse leaped.

  “Are you free so we can discuss it over lunch?”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  She didn’t have anything scheduled, but part of her wanted to lie and claim she did. Lunch with the sexy sensei . . . she wasn’t sure she’d honed the feminine skills to cope with a man like him. But if she kept it focused on business? Business she could do. Amery smiled. “I’d love to have lunch with you. There’s a great bistro a few blocks away.”

  “Maybe next time. I’ve already made reservations for us at Dillinger’s.”

  Normally she’d bristle at such presumptive behavior. But Amery liked that he hadn’t stopped by as an afterthought, that he’d planned it. “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll drive. I’m parked out front.”

  “I’ll grab my purse and meet you.”

  She quickly peeked in the bathroom mirror to check her hair and makeup. Thankfully her meeting with a new client earlier meant she’d put extra effort into her appearance today. One thing she loved about her job and owning her business? She didn’t have to dress to the nines every day. So donning a feminine business suit always bolstered her self-confidence. She’d need an extra boost in dealing with an enigmatic man like Ronin Black.

  After locking the front door, she scanned the cars parallel-parked on the tree-lined block. No sign of him. She turned and her heart stopped. Ronin stood in front of a motorcycle.

  His gaze moved over her, from the tips of her gray peep-toe pumps to the hem of her pink and gray tweed pencil skirt. His lips quirked. “Nice suit. Good thing the restaurant is only twelve blocks from here.”

  “You don’t seriously expect me to climb on the back of that thing in this outfit?”

  “Of course. I even brought you a helmet.”

  “I don’t see how a helmet will keep my skirt from riding up and showing everyone in downtown Denver the color of my panties.”

  “Then I guess you’d better sit real close to me to keep it a secret.”

  “Maybe I should—”

  He loomed over her. “It’s twelve blocks. If you hate the ride over, I’ll call a cab to bring you back here after lunch. But you’ve got to at least try it. You know you want to.”

  How had he known that? “I’m putting myself in your hands, Ronin.”

  “You have no idea how much that appeals to me,” he murmured.

  His words flowed across her as potent as a caress.

  “Hold still.” He slipped the helmet on and flipped the visor up. “Is it pinching anywhere?”

  “No.”

  Ronin swept her hair over her shoulders. He draped her long purse strap over her head, positioning her purse against her hip. “Let’s go.” He closed the visor and dug the keys out of his pocket before he climbed onto the bike.

  Talk about a nice butt. Good thing the visor hid her lustful eyes—not good to be drooling over a new client.

  And she might’ve pulled off her silent reminder to keep it professional, if she hadn’t been forced to sit so close to him on the bike seat that angled down, smashing her crotch against that nice ass. All professional thoughts vanished when she wrapped her arms around his hard muscular core as they zoomed through city traffic.

  The ride didn’t take long and Amery was sort of sad to see it end.

  Ronin held the bike steady as she quickly dismounted. She pulled the helmet off, shaking her hair free before she straightened her skirt.

  “Want me to carry your helmet?” he asked.

  “Nope. Holding it makes me feel a like a badass biker chick.”

  “You’re a little too wholesome looking to pull that off.”

  Amery faced him. “Did you mean wholesome as an insult?”

  Ronin invaded her space. “Not at all. It just requires more patience convincing a wholesome woman like you to take a walk on the wild side. But once you’re there . . .” His eyes were glued to her mouth. “I bet you’d put badass biker chicks to shame.”

  Her entire body heated, but she managed a droll, “I’m wondering who you see when you’re looking at me, because I don’t see that at all.”

  “You should look deeper, because it’s right there in your eyes.”

  Amery placed her hand on his chest and leaned in, catching a whiff of his exotic cologne. “You are dangerous, and not because you’ve got mad martial arts skills.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you almost make me believe you can read me that well.” Amery sidestepped him and walked through the open door to the restaurant. She paused at the hostess stand, inhaling several deep breaths to try and calm down.

  A warm body pressed against her back, and soft lips brushed her ear. “Pink.”

  She turned her head and his lips moved to her cheek. “What?”

  “The only person who saw your underwear was me. And they’re pink.”

  The host approached and bowed. “Master Black.”

  Ronin returned the bow. “Michael. You’re looking good. How’s the family?”

  “Wonderful. Angelina and I are so proud our Christina graduated with honors in May.”

  “Congratulations. You have every right to be proud.”

  “If not for your help . . . our Christina might not be . . .”

  “Please.” Ronin held up his hand in a say no more gesture. “Give my best to your wife and daughter.”

  “I will. Francis will show you to your table.”

  After they were seated upstairs on the patio, in the corner table with an amazing view, Amery said, “Best seat in the house, Master Black. I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. Michael is too shrewd a businessman to hold a special table for me during lunch rush. I chalk it up to my good luck today.”

  Amery didn’t buy that, but she let it go. She scanned the menu. “I’ve heard the food is fantastic. What do you recommend?”

  “The salmon quinoa salad. Or the roasted vegetable pasta.” She must’ve frowned because he said, “Is something wrong?”

  “Just wondering if you’re a vegetarian.”

  “Because I suggested vegetarian dishes? No. I’m very much a carnivore. In fact,
I’ve decided on the buffalo burger.”

  “I was looking at that too.”

  Once the waiter took their order, Amery handed over the menu and felt Ronin’s eyes on her again. “You’re staring at me. Do I have helmet hair or something?”

  “No. I just like looking at you.”

  “Well, it makes me uncomfortable.”

  He shrugged, as if to say too bad.

  “So that guy you talked to up front. What did he mean when he said if not for you? Did you save his daughter’s life or something?”

  The change in his face was subtle, from relaxed to guarded, but she caught it. By the stiff way he held himself, she suspected he wouldn’t answer. Finally he said, “His only daughter was attacked at college her freshman year. She closed herself off from everyone and was failing all her classes. Michael signed her up for a self-defense class with me at the dojo and she worked through her issues.”

  “Do you teach self-defenses often?”

  “Almost never anymore.” He took a long drink of water. “Your accent . . . I can’t put a finger on it. Where are you from originally?”

  Talk about changing the subject. “North Dakota.”

  “I’ve seen the movie Fargo.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’re not all like that, doncha know?”

  A small smile curled the corners of his mouth. “So noted. Tell me why you left the cold climes of North Dakota.”

  “Because of the cold climes of North Dakota,” she said dryly.

  “Why Denver? Why not California or Florida to escape the cold and snow?”

  “After I graduated from the University of North Dakota with a graphic arts degree, my boyfriend at the time had a tryout with the Colorado Rockies, so I followed him. We broke up and I loved it here, so I stayed.”

  “You stayed because you already owned your own business?”

  What was up with the twenty questions?

  He’s entitled to your background information since he’s already hired you.

  “No. I worked for DeeDee Lewis of DDL Designs for three years. Then both her parents had health problems, forcing her to move back to Boston. I took out a loan for her business and the building and I’ve been working for myself ever since. Luckily I kept most of DDL’s clients and added a few of my own. Molly works for me part-time while she’s getting her master’s degree.”

  “And Emmylou? Was she already renting space there?”

  Amery shook her head. “When DDL owned the building the entire first floor belonged to the company. But I don’t need that much space, especially since I downscaled to being a one-woman operation. Around that same time Emmylou, who I’d met through my ex, was looking for a permanent place for her massage clients. We erected a wall between the two businesses and it works.” She didn’t want to admit that without Emmylou’s rent, she might not be able to swing the mortgage payment.

  “What about Chaz? Where does he fit in?”

  “Chaz worked for DeeDee when I first started. Then his freelance work started paying better, so he quit. Anyway, after my ex and I broke up, I moved in with Chaz. I didn’t know anyone in Denver besides the group my ex and I ran around with, and he got custody of them in the split. Chaz took me under his wing. After I assumed ownership of the building and company, he asked to rent the tiny room, which was the employee break room before the remodel. He doesn’t like working alone in his apartment all the time.”

  When Ronin continued to stare at her, she bristled. “So, did I pass the Sensei Ronin Black business qualifications test?”

  He leaned forward. “That wasn’t a business test. Have I not made myself clear that it will be more than self-defense training and business between us?”

  “Why me?” she blurted. “To hear people talk, you’re some kind of martial arts god. You have that whole scary, mysterious Zen thing going on. And you are one of the hottest guys I’ve ever met.”

  “One of?” he repeated.

  “Okay, the hottest guy I’ve ever met, but I didn’t want to admit that because I didn’t want you to get a swelled head.”

  Ronin smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. But I’m just a guy, Amery. A guy who works too hard and plays too little. And after meeting you?” His heated gaze roamed over her face. “I’m more than ready to play.”

  His deep velvety voice dripped with promises of sweaty, combustible sex. And her panties started getting very, very warm.

  “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “No. I have a hard time finding a date.” Now, why had she admitted that to the hottest guy she’d ever met?

  “You are a beautiful woman. But I’d venture a guess to say if you’re hanging out in gay bars with your friends, then you’re batting zero on the dating front because of your choice of venues.”

  Since both Chaz and Emmylou wore their sexual orientation like a banner, his insight about them wasn’t shocking after one meeting. But his supposed insight into her was wrong. Dead wrong. And she told him so.

  “I’m never wrong.” Ronin cocked his head. “I’ll prove it to you.”

  “How?”

  “Pick a bar around here where young urban professionals hang out after work. I’ll bet you get hit on at least six times. In an hour.”

  “There’s no way to prove it,” she argued. “I could just tell you I didn’t get hit on at all and you’d never know.”

  He picked up her hand. “But I will know because I plan to be in the same bar. I’ll keep track of how many men hit on you. You just have to be your beautiful, charming self.”

  His thumb was drawing tiny circles on the base of her hand. Sexy circles. Gentle, yet insistent. Would Ronin kiss that way? Starting out slow and then unleashing the heat that burned in his eyes?

  “What were you thinking about just now?”

  She guzzled half her glass of water. “What’s in this bar experiment for you?”

  Ronin brought her hand to his mouth, pressing soft kisses from the edge of her wrist to the fleshy skin below her thumb. “I get to look at you for an hour, which you know I like. And when the time is up, I get to be the guy you’ll leave the bar with.”

  Amery gave him a skeptical look. “You won’t have a bunch of your friends there as ringers, pretending to be interested in me?”

  “First of all, I wouldn’t do something so dishonorable. Second, I want you to see all the men that flock to you when you’re not surrounded by gay camouflage.”

  She laughed. “Okay. You’re on. But I have two conditions.”

  “Which I’ll allow you to mention but I do not have to abide by, since the experiment was my idea and the rules are mine to make.” He smiled serenely. “But please, go ahead and tell me your conditions.”

  “I want to hear your backstory.”

  “Didn’t you read my bio on the Web site?”

  She had, despite the fact that she’d only read it to see if he’d listed any personal information. “Yes. But that’s your official bio. It’s not the same. So tell me.”

  The food arrived, putting an end to the discussion.

  While they ate Amery wondered if Ronin would skirt the subject again.

  But he started talking without prompting after he finished his burger. “My father was stationed in Japan when he met my mother. They married, against my grandfather’s wishes. Since my father was in the air force, we moved a lot. My dad trained in jujitsu and started taking me to class with him when I was three. Long story short, after my father died, we moved to Japan.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eight. Even though I’m a quarter Japanese on my mother’s side, I didn’t fit in anywhere besides the dojo. By age twelve I’d enrolled in a school where the main focus was jujitsu. By age sixteen I knew I’d found my calling. My grandfather refused to pay for advanced training, so I found an old master who agreed to swap training for my help with his business.”

  “That’s very Karate Kid.”

  “I swear I’m not making this up. I trained with him for two yea
rs. When I turned eighteen I joined a . . .” He said a Japanese phrase. “There’s no word for it in English. The closest description is a sort of monastery.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

  “No. I spent four years there. It was a humbling and inspiring opportunity that I’m grateful for to this day. Upon my return to the real world at age twenty-two, I had to choose citizenship since Japan doesn’t allow duality. I chose the U.S. Within four years of living here, I’d earned the money and built the reputation to start my own dojo.”

  “Wow. That’s way more exciting than my story.”

  “It is what it is. Now what’s the second condition?”

  “I want to know if you’re serious about hiring me or if it was just a way to get me to go out on a lunch date with you.”

  “I’m serious about having you design a new logo. But I also wanted a lunch date with you.”

  “Do you always get what you want?”

  “Always.” Ronin bent his head closer to hers. “As far as the logo is concerned, I’d like a bolder design that speaks of Japanese jujitsu, not the Brazilian method that’s become so popular.”

  An edge had crept into his voice. “I take it you don’t approve of that method?”

  “Brazilian jujitsu is the preferred form for MMA fighters and I have no issue with the method. Just the guys who claim to have training in it. Few of the dojos around here have a qualified leader. They add the term ‘Gracie method’ and students flock to their classes. I’m traditional in that I train students to master techniques and learn control, not only to fight.”

  Everything about his physical charisma compelled her. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at her, she could see the fire dancing in his eyes. She watched the agitated muscle popping in his jaw and how his full lips flattened into a thin line. All subtle movements that she might’ve missed if she hadn’t allowed his magnetism to pull her in. A section of hair fell across his cheek and she had to curl her fingers into her palms to keep from brushing it aside. “Were you a good fighter?”

  “I don’t have TKO stats, or an official win-loss record, or a medal or a winner’s belt. But I did make a whole bunch of money fighting, and that allowed me to start Black Arts.”

  “And that was the endgame for you? The only reason you fought?”