seem to matter that the top of her head came just to the hulk’s shoulders.
Where her opponent had bulk and power, she had grace and speed. She sidestepped his rush, kicked his legs out from under him and had the sole of her tennis shoe against his throat the instant he hit the mat. “You’re dead. I just crushed your windpipe.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the hulk croaked.
Grant felt a stiff tic of pride at how effortlessly she’d toppled the mountain.
She stepped back from her prey. “Don’t stiffen when you fall. You have to be boneless, Johansen. Boneless. When you hit, roll and get back up on your feet in one fluid move. You might wind up dead if you don’t.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Practice with the other recruits.” Slicking the back of her hand across her forehead, Sky leaned and retrieved a hair clip off the edge of the mat. “If you need more help, you can reach me at the lab,” she added, then turned and nearly collided with Grant.
“Having fun with the cavewoman routine, Milano?”
Her eyes widened and went dark. “Maybe.”
Her glossy black hair was a gorgeous mess, her cheeks were flushed, her flesh slicked with sweat. Her breathing came fast and hard; her breasts moved rapidly up and down against the baggy T-shirt marked Academy Instructor that she’d tucked into a pair of loose-fitting gym shorts. The smell of woman and heat pulsed off her in little waves. Grant wanted to pummel the hulk into the mat just because he’d touched her.
“Get lost, recruit,” Grant said, keeping his eyes locked with hers.
“Yes, sir.” Johansen jogged across the gym, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking against the shiny waxed floor.
“No need to be rude,” Sky said as her student shoved through the swinging door that led to the locker rooms.
“You have to be rude to recruits. It’s the law.”
She arched an eyebrow. “That one must have gotten by me.”
“I came in upstairs by the classrooms.” The mugginess in the air had Grant slipping out of his suit coat and hooking it on a finger over one shoulder. “One of the instructors pointed me in this direction. I thought you were teaching recruit school this afternoon about the exciting world of the forensic lab.”
“I teach that block of classes next month.” She took a few steps and retrieved a white hand towel off a metal stand that held a row of basketballs. “When this academy started, I signed on to help teach self-defense to the female recruits. That’s what I did this afternoon.”
“Female recruits?” Grant gave her a cynical smile. “Your most recent student was a few quarts over the legal testosterone level.”
“Johansen asked for some extra help, so I stayed.”
“The guy could bench-press the entire SWAT team. You really think he needs tips on self-defense?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not if he stays on his feet.” She blotted the towel across her forehead, then slowly down the seductive arch of her throat.
Grant felt heat streak straight to his loins.
“Johansen’s big and strong, like an ox,” Sky continued, apparently oblivious to what her ministrations were doing to him. “That’s to his detriment if some scumbag manages to knock him off his feet. When he’s down, Johansen lumbers around trying to get back up. Meanwhile he could get shot. Or stabbed.” Her eyes closed briefly. “He recognizes his limits, and he asked for my help.”
Grant knew there was sense in that, but at the moment he didn’t want logic. He wanted to touch that tanned, moist flesh so bad he could taste it. Taste her.
Drawing in a slow breath, he took a casual step forward. “Want to go a few rounds with me, Milano?”
The hand gripping the towel froze against her throat. Her gaze skittered to his mouth, then to his eyes, then settled back to his mouth. She swallowed hard. “No.”
“It’s one thing to take on a goo-goo-eyed recruit who’s afraid to toss the instructor—”
“I didn’t give him the chance to toss me.”
“Really?” The defensive thread in her voice had Grant fighting a smile. When they’d first met, he’d savored the verbal sparring they’d engaged in. Then their relationship got personal and everything changed. And ended. Somehow, after months of silence, they’d all of a sudden slid back into sparring mode. Standing there, in the expansive gym that smelled vaguely of hard workouts, Grant knew there was no way they’d wind up rolling around together on the mat. He knew Sky knew that, too. But, dammit, he was enjoying just being with her after so long and he wanted to prolong the pleasure of the moment.
“When I walked in here, Milano, your student had you flat on your back.”
Her chin rose. “I let Johansen put me there. He wanted to know how to recover when someone knocked him down. I showed him.”
“Hmm.” Grant took another step forward and leaned in. The sweet, compelling scent of her hair drew him, and without thinking, he turned his head, inhaled. And savored. “He had you flat on your back,” he whispered against her cheek.
She took a jerky step sideways. “I had control of the situation.” Her fingers clenched and unclenched on the towel. “Total control.”
“He had you pinned—”
“Not even close. I had full use of my legs. He hadn’t even managed to restrain my arms. I could have disabled him with one palm strike to the nose.”
“You could have killed him with a palm strike to the nose.”
“My point, exactly.”
From behind Grant, the echo of voices filled the air; he turned in time to see two brawny patrol officers clad in gym shorts and muscle shirts push through the door. They acknowledged his presence with a nod. The taller of the two men snared a basketball off the metal stand and lobbed it to his partner, then grabbed another ball and dribbled off toward the hoop.
Grant turned back, his eyes locking with Sky’s. He had never seen her with her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. Never gazed into the stark blueness of her eyes without looking through the lenses of her glasses. Never glimpsed her in shorts with her bare legs long and tanned and soft. It hit him then, that if he could get his hands on that barrier she’d put between them months ago, he’d rip it apart.
He let out a slow breath against the realization. Barrier or no barrier, he wasn’t ready to let her go—not yet.
“Come on, Milano. Some scumbag might knock me on my butt someday. Maybe if you gave me some pointers—”
“You’re not a recruit. You’re trained, and you’ve worked the street. You know how to move.”
“True. But I might be rusty.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have a rusty move in your body, Pierce.” She glanced in the direction
