‘That’s the idea.’ He set the weights down to take off the headset and put it aside. She watched him switch to the resistance center, set a program, and start on leg presses. Absently, she picked up a weight, worked on her triceps, and kept watching him.
The black sweatband gave him a warrior look, she thought. And the dark, sleeveless T-shirt and shorts showed off very attractive muscles and skin gleaming with honest sweat. She watched those muscles bunch, that sweat bead, and she wanted him.
‘You’re looking pleased with yourself, Lieutenant.’
‘Actually, I’m pleased with you.’ She angled her head, let her gaze skim over him. ‘That’s quite a body you’ve got there, Roarke.’
His brow winged up as she strolled over, reached down to test his biceps. ‘Tough guy.’
He grinned up at her. She was in a mood, he could see. He just wasn’t sure what mood it was. ‘Want to see how tough?’
‘Think I’m afraid of you?’ With her eyes still on his, she stripped off her weapon harness, hung it over one of the bars. ‘Come on.’ She walked over to a mat, curled her fingers in challenge. ‘See if you can take me down.’
Still prone, he studied her. There was something in her eyes other than challenge, he noted. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was lust. ‘Eve, I’m covered with sweat.’
She sneered. ‘Coward.’
He winced. ‘Let me grab a shower, then—’
‘Chicken. You know, some men are still stuck in the mind-set that a woman can’t go toe to toe on a physical level. Since I know you’re above that, I can only assume you’re afraid I’ll whip your ass.’
That did it. ‘End program.’ Slowly he sat up and reached toward a stack of towels. He mopped his face. ‘Wanna fight? I’ll give you time to warm up.’
Her blood was already pumping. ‘I’m warm enough. Standard hand to hand.’
‘No punching,’ he said as he stepped onto the mat. At her derisive snort, he narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m not hitting you.’
‘Right. Like you could get past my—’
He came in fast, caught her off balance, and sent her skidding on her butt. ‘Foul,’ she muttered and swung up to the balls of her feet.
‘Oh, now there’re rules. Just like a cop.’
They crouched, circled each other. He feinted, she stepped in. For ten interesting seconds, they grappled, her hands sliding off his slick skin. His quick leg hook would have worked if she hadn’t anticipated and gone in low. Using leverage and a quick twist of her body, she flipped him over.
‘Now we’re even.’ She crouched again as he got to his feet, shook back his hair.
‘Okay, Lieutenant, I’m going to stop holding back.’
‘Holding back, my butt. You were—’
He almost caught her again, certainly would have taken her down if she hadn’t realized with seconds to spare that his strategy was to distract her with insults. She evaded and turned into his move. Then, when their faces were close, their bodies straining, she pulled out her best weapon.
She slid a hand between his legs, cupped gentle fingers over his balls. He blinked in surprise, in delight. ‘Well, then,’ he murmured and lowered his lips to within an inch of hers before she switched her grip.
He didn’t even have time to curse as he went sailing. He landed with a thud, and she was on him, a knee pressed to his crotch, his shoulders pinned by her hands.
‘You’re down, pal. And out.’
‘Talk about fouls.’
‘Don’t be a sore loser.’
‘It’s hard to argue with a woman when she’s got her knee on my ego.’
‘Good. Now I’m going to have my way with you.’
‘Are you?’