Free An Affair of Deceit by Jamie Michele

attack and recognized that she’d finally found the motivation to verbally emphasize her moves as the grand master desired. Yelling “Hiya!” had never felt so right as it did when the top of her foot connected with the giant’s head.
    The tall stranger didn’t stumble back like her previous opponent had. He stood his ground and deftly defended against her assault, letting only her most vicious and clever hits find their targets, and he even managed to strike a few blows of his own.
    One of his boxer-style punches struck her mouth. Blood coated her tongue with rusty warmth.
    Blood. Hers. Drawn in a fight.
    It’d been a hell of a long time since anyone had made her work for it. This arrogant ass was the first person to fight her,
really
fight her, in a long time. Since the last time she’d worked out with her father, actually. Yes, it hurt to be hit so hard, but it felt good, too, like it meant she was an equal in this man’s eyes. He wasn’t worried about damaging her. He knew she could handle it. He took her seriously enough to hit her just as hard as she hit him.
    And now she wasn’t concerned about hurting him, either. She broke one of the unspoken rules of the gym and flicked her foot toward his crotch.
    Just as quickly, his hand swept down to push her kick harmlessly aside. “We just met and already you’re going for my balls?”
    “Just a little gender verification,” she retorted.
    “Hey, I’ll let you see them,” he said, ducking back to avoid a spinning outer crescent kick she had hoped would connect with his jaw, “but I’m a gentleman. At least let me buy you dinner first.”
    “Let me empty your stomach first,” she muttered, and rammed her knee into his gut.
    He hadn’t expected that, but he recovered quickly and grabbed her firmly by the waist before she could skirt away. He pulled her left arm back hard and she went limp.
    He released his hold on her, probably thinking he’d gone too far.
    Sucker.
    Abigail screamed “Yah!” as she spun in his arms and threw the back of her clenched wrist into his cheek. He grunted. Eager to finish the job, she jumped into the air and whipped her left leg out in a devastating back kick that landed in the center of the big man’s chest.
    It knocked him backward. He stumbled once, twice, and then fell to the ground with a dull thud.
    She landed and stepped back, wondering what to do next. Should she humiliate him further by delivering the previous fighter’s beloved axe kick, which would actually be the perfect move in this situation? Or should she extend her hand and help him stand?
    Honor got the better of her personal vindictiveness. She reached out her hand, and he grasped it with a smile.
    “Good fight,” he said, and he sounded sincere.
    The grand master’s whistle blew, and Abigail realized that everyone else in the room had long since stopped fighting. The whole studio had watched the end of her fight, and now the room was silent.
    She quickly bowed to her sparring partner and walked briskly toward the locker room, suddenly and uncomfortably aware of the slick sweat pooling above the waistband of her cotton workout pants. She avoided the stares of her classmates, but she couldn’t resist looking back at the grand master.
    He was standing near the visitor’s gallery at the front of the gym, talking to the man she’d just sparred with and a third man she recognized with hot irritation.
    It was James Riley, PhD, and he stood next to her most recent sparring partner as though they knew each other.
    No. They stood together as a
team
.

    Riley bowed deeply to the grand master, and the old man walked away with a spring in his step that hinted at his legendary athletic ability.
    Ethan Greene bowed, too, but his eyes stayed on Abigail’s backside as she stormed into the locker room.
    “That is a woman!” Greene exclaimed softly with a companionable slap on Riley’s back. “A little skinny, though. I like my ladies with a little more cushion.