Below the Belt. Sarah Mayberry

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to give yourself some recovery time after that fight.”

      Jamie kept her focus on the bag, slamming another combination into it—cross, jab, cross, hook, cross, jab. She was sweating bullets and her face ached from the bruises she’d scored in her fight but she wasn’t even close to being ready to stop.

      “Not yet,” she panted.

      Ray shook his head.

      “You are the most stubborn person I know,” he said.

      It was the same thing her grandfather had said to her after the fight. He’d been upset by her loss, angry that she’d ignored his advice and gone into the ring before he thought she was prepared. But she couldn’t back down. She was doing this for him, to reclaim his reputation.

      Since it wasn’t too hot a day yet, they’d pushed the folding doors that formed one wall of the gym all the way open, and Ray sauntered straight out to where a sun lounger waited beside the pool. She watched him stretch out, momentarily toying with the idea of joining him and taking a break. But she had more work to do.

      She hit the bag with another round of punches then, just for fun, some kicks. There was nothing like the buzz she got from the power of a great roundhouse kick slamming into the bag.

      She wiped sweat from her brow and caught her breath. Turning, she leaned her back against the heavy long bag and opened her mouth to start giving Ray shit for having less stamina than a girl. And promptly shut it again when she registered who was standing beside the pool talking to him.

      Cooper Fitzgerald.

      Just like last time, she felt instantly at a disadvantage as she took in his designer denim jeans and crisp white linen shirt. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, and his hair looked as though it had been cut by one of those fancy hairstylists to the stars. He looked like a million bucks, while she was covered in sweat and bruises.

      She pushed herself away from the bag and turned her back on both men. She didn’t care that he was here. He didn’t matter. And it didn’t matter that he’d seen her lose the other night.

      Concentrating on her combinations with renewed determination, she attacked the bag some more, trying to keep all of her grandfather’s advice top of mind: keep your guard hand up; shuffle forward, never step; snap your punches, don’t push them; punch through your opponent, not into her.

      After four minutes of hard work, she paused again.

      He was still there, she could sense him. Damn him. Why didn’t he get his business with Ray over with and leave?

      Sucking much-needed air into her lungs, she began to rain kicks on the bag—a snap kick from the knee, then another thundering roundhouse and a spinning back kick that sent the bag swinging.

      “That’s some kick you’ve got there.”

      She ignored him. Asshole.

      “What style do you do, Tae Kwon Do? Maui Thai?”

      She kneed the bag and followed up with some elbow work.

      “Tae Kwon Do. State champion three years in a row, right, Jimmy?” Ray answered for her.

      She spun another kick into the bag. “Two years,” she corrected.

      “You’re good,” Cooper said.

      Because she was out of breath and gasping for a drink, she stopped and tugged one of her gloves off so she could grab the water bottle.

      “Thanks. Coming from you, it means so much,” she said.

      He lifted an eyebrow at her sarcasm and, even though he was wearing those dark sunglasses, she could feel his gaze slide over her body. She felt a ridiculous, completely unwelcome surge of awareness and covered by throwing back her head and gulping water.

      “How are you pulling up after your fight?” he asked.

      She swallowed then brushed at the sweat beading her forehead. She knew exactly how she looked: red in the face, shiny with exertion, hair stuck to her forehead and neck. She was also sporting one badly bruised eye, a swollen lip and numerous bruises across her belly and ribs.

      “I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t want to talk about the fight.

      “You found yourself a trainer yet?”

      “What is this, twenty questions?” she asked, reaching for her towel.

      “Just wondering if you’ve got someone other than that old man to tell you where you’re going wrong,” he said.

      Jamie’s hands curled into the towel. If he had any idea who her grandfather was, he’d know how stupid he sounded right now. But telling him would open a can of worms she wasn’t ready to deal with yet. She was going to face the boxing world down one day—but it would be on her terms, on her schedule.

      “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me,” she said. “I’ll get sick of this boxing thing soon enough and go back to my needlework and cookie-baking like a good Stepford wife.”

      Flashing him a saccharine smile, she slung the towel around her neck and strode over to her gym bag.

      She tossed her workout gloves inside and hoisted the bag onto her shoulder. Ignoring Cooper, she kissed Ray on the cheek as she passed by.

      “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

      Then she headed for the house, her stride long, her head high, every muscle in her body signaling to Cooper Fitzgerald that he could go hang, thank you very much, as far as she was concerned.

      

      COOPER SLID HIS sunglasses up onto his head, the better to watch Jamie Holloway stalk away from him.

      He was still coming to terms with the way his body had reacted to seeing her again at close range. The tight black shorts and form-hugging crop top she’d been wearing left precious little to the imagination, especially when soaked in sweat from a good, hard workout. She had a sizzling body—all firm muscle, with high, full breasts. His body had gone to red alert the moment he’d recognized her, then she’d turned around and a visceral stab of emotion had ripped through him when he’d registered her bruised and battered face. He was still trying to work out exactly what that emotion had been. Protectiveness? Anger? Frustration?

      As her rounded, muscular butt disappeared into the house, he turned to Ray, a frown on his face.

      “Who is the old guy, anyway?” he asked.

      “Her grandfather. He did a bit of fighting in his time,” Ray explained vaguely.

      Cooper swore. “You’re kidding me? She’s got her grandfather giving her advice in the ring? No wonder Jovavich ate her for breakfast.”

      “She wants it. She’ll learn. Losing that fight is burning her up. It won’t happen a second time,” Ray said.

      Cooper gave the other man a frustrated look. “I saw the fight, okay? She’s a long way off being ready to go pro. She’s got bad habits—and now I can see why. She’s

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