Chapter Three
Krav Maga was a self-defense discipline invented for the Israel Defense Forces in the thirties. It combined a lot of different things, like judo, boxing, and wrestling, but what I liked about it was the way it focused on real-life situations and how to defend yourself in them.
And why would an archaeologist need to know a martial arts discipline? You’d be surprised. I’ve traveled to a lot of different places, and Russ Daly wasn’t the first person to suggest that a female with a doctorate would serve the world better on her knees. I was lucky I didn’t have a complex, since my stepfather had said many of the same things as I worked my way toward my Ph.D. He wasn’t abusive or anything, he just genuinely didn’t understand what a woman wanted with so much education. What my mom saw in him, I’d never know, but her acceptance of the role he’d laid out for her only made me appreciate my own freedom that much more.
I didn’t like fighting, but I could take care of myself—I took pride in that. And to have a bodyguard assigned to me like I had no say in the matter… Well, it wasn’t sitting well. That combined with that lusty awareness thing I had going on for him? I was ready to climb the walls.
My options had been either to call up the network and give them my expletive-filled opinion of their decision to saddle me with a babysitter, or to go work out my anger. Since I liked getting paid, it hadn’t really been much of a choice.
Meadow Ridge didn’t have a gym unless you counted the one at the high school, and since I didn’t have access to it, I didn’t. I’d improvised by taking my workouts outside in the early evening when the sun started to sink and shadows fell over the grassy lot beside the motel’s parking lot.
I couldn’t actually practice my Krav Maga without a partner, but I could go through the motions and pretend. And right now I was going against one of the major tenets of the sport, which was to avoid confrontation in the first place, which was why I’d been drawn to it. The Russ Daly in my imagination was going down under my powerhouse kicks and punches.
Jab, cross, cross. Kick, crouch, back up. I did this over and over, until my quads were quivering and my lungs burned.
The salt from my sweat stung my eyes. Blinking it away, I shoved the loose strands of my ponytail away from my face before hunching over, hands on my knees, to catch my breath.
See? I didn’t need a bodyguard.
Except, there in the shade, leaning against the wall of the motel, was Jasper. He’d been there since I started, a silent shadow, but seeing him brought the frustration that I’d just fought away back into sharp focus.
“Do you really think I need to be watched right now?” Stalking over to where I’d left my bottle of cold tea, I lifted it and chugged. “We’re right on Main Street. There are people everywhere. What’s going to happen?”
He said nothing. That seemed to be his MO—to play statue and stay mute.
“Whatever.” Tossing my empty tea bottle aside, I turned away, ready to stretch before I headed back inside, then stopped. Whirling back, I planted my feet, staring up at him. “No. You know what? Let’s do this.”
I was pretty sure I saw a spark of amusement in his eyes, and it was infuriating. “Let’s do what, exactly?”
“You and me. Let’s go.” I lifted my chin, even as my mind shrieked at me, informing me what a horrible idea this was. “I’ll show you I can take care of myself. I don’t need you.”
He looked down on me from that massive height, incredulous. My pulse hammered—this was ridiculous. No way was I going to win against someone so huge, so what was I trying to prove?
I was trying to show that I wasn’t weak. That was why I’d started practicing Krav Maga in the first place—to show that just because I didn’t like to make a fuss didn’t mean that I was a pushover.
“All right.” I wasn’t expecting him to accept. The hand on my shoulder snapped me back, tugging me off balance. I shrieked as I slammed back into a brick wall.
“You’re practicing Krav Maga, yes? Tell me, Cari, what is the first rule?” It wasn’t a brick wall—it was Jasper’s chest. Kicking back, I fought with a series of short, choppy movements, and instead of freedom, I received a solid arm across my throat.
“You know what Krav Maga is, and you let me spar with my imaginary friend for the last hour?” I let myself go limp, become dead weight, expecting the move to surprise him enough to drop me.
It did not. Instead he rolled with me until his back was against the parched grass, and I was seated astride him. I should have been able to get free since I was on top, but I couldn’t rid myself of his steely grip on my arms, and I knew he’d chosen that position deliberately, to prove his point.
Damn it. This was not the result I wanted—proof that I did, in fact, need him.
“I get it. You’re stronger than me. Now let me up.” Temper-tears stung the back of my throat. Convincing my stepfather that I was going to go to university, convincing my colleagues that I wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown just because some idiot spray painted my door—why did I always have to fight just to live my life the way I wanted?
Instead of gloating and letting me up, my newly vindicated bodyguard tugged me down so that I lay flat on top of him. I surprised myself by wanting, suddenly, to bury my face in his T-shirt and just let go for a moment, rather than fight this new reality—that I might actually be in danger.
“I’m not trying to prove that I’m stronger than you. I don’t have to. It’s obvious.” The urge to snuggle passed as I cranked my head around with a glare.
Way to make me feel worse, asshole.
“Krav maga is a discipline, and the first rule is to avoid confrontation. You know this. So why the hell are you out here, alone, after dusk?” His words were tinted with frustration, the first hint of emotion he’d shown, and I was surprised enough to stop tugging at his grip. When I did, he let go, and I pushed myself up on his massive chest but didn’t roll off.
“You’re serious.” I waited for the punchline, but it didn’t come. Instead, he fixed me with a stare from those pale eyes, and a shiver skittered down my spine. “You don’t actually think someone is out to get me, do you? It’s a prank, right?”
“Let’s look at it this way.” Propping himself up on an elbow brought that rock-solid stomach of his in contact with my hip. I thought he would push me away, but he didn’t, seeming completely unaffected by the closeness of our bodies.
That stung, because I sure as hell wasn’t. This close, I could feel the warmth of his skin, smell a hint of soap, and it invaded my senses slowly, lazily, like honey melting on a summer day.
“You’re an archaeologist. You search for physical proof of things before you build theories on top of that evidence. Would that be an accurate explanation?”
“Yes.” Narrowing my eyes, I tried to drag my attention from the scent of his skin to what he was saying. My mouth was dry, and the space between my legs that pressed into the cradle between his hip was warm and starting to ache.
He gave no indication that our position was getting him all hot and bothered, too. None. How was I the only one feeling this?
“You have your physical proof. Harassment in the form of vandalism, and the more direct threat with the poster mailed to Margot.” With the sort of ab crunch I couldn’t do even on my best day, he hauled himself into a sitting position, still without pushing me off his lap. “Sure, it could be that someone just wants to mess with your head. But what if it’s more? Wouldn’t you rather be prepared?”
“I like being prepared.” I ran my tongue over my lips and swallowed. Holy mixed messages. His words, his demeanor—he was still fully in G.I. Joe mode, but still, he hadn’t pushed me away.
“So how is this going to work? You just follow me around all the time?” A thought occurred to me. “You’re not expecting to stay in the same room, are you?”
Looking at him, though, I felt that same strange pull that I had in Margot’s suite. I might not actually mind having him that close.
What was wrong with me?
Margot and the network had been right—I was absolutely in danger. But the threat?
It was him.
“I will be close by at all times until the threat has been resolved.” His face was impassive. “Didn’t Margot tell you? My contract with the network requires that we even shower together.”
My mouth fell open, but not because I was shocked by his words. No, it was because it gave me one hell of a mental picture. That long, hard body, naked, pressing me back against a tiled wall as water rained down.
When I looked at him again, he was smirking. I broke away from the sexy image, trying to hold back my blush as I punched him in the shoulder.
“That’s a lie.”
“It is,” he agreed with a crooked smile. Wow. When he was all stern, he was hot. But that little smile? Heaven help me. “I’ll only shower with you if you want me to.”
Heat rushed through me so fast I was surprised that my skin didn’t steam. And maybe it was me pushing back after having such a big decision made for me, but what I did next was completely out of character. And yet, I still did it.
I couldn’t help myself. Leaning forward slowly, I brushed my lips over his.
He didn’t move, but those pale green eyes were wide open, watching me intently.
Nudging at him, brushing his mouth with my own, I ran my tongue over the seam of his lips.
His entire body jerked beneath mine, as though electricity had whipped through all those muscles. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that made my nipples tighten and the pulse between my legs quicken.
He pulled back abruptly, leaving me gasping. Somehow he managed to stand us both up while dislodging me from his lap, but not before I felt his cock thicken against me.
I wasn’t sure what I expected him to say or do, but when he simply pointed to the door, I was still unsettled.
“Go inside.” I waited—surely he had more to say than that. A reason. An excuse.
Nothing. And when he looked at me, the eyes that just a minute ago had mirrored my need were hard as stone.
He waited, and I knew, somehow, that his patience would far outlast my own. I went, something raw lodging in my throat.
I could feel his eyes on my back every step of the way.