I’m sorry about that. But most of all, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. Ethan should have told you.”
“Yes, he should have.” She couldn’t stem the anger in her voice.
“Remember, he is a man. And when it comes to second-guessing what women want, men can be the most clueless creatures since the Komodo dragon.”
Kelly couldn’t help but be affected by the woman’s whimsy. A snort of laughter slipped past her anger. “He should put you on the payroll for damage control, as well as makeovers.”
“My nephew can be an insensitive ass.”
“It’s not your fault. He’s just doing his job.” Her frustration redirected itself all onto one, all-too-deserving target. Ethan.
“Consider it a cover, like Ethan’s ever-changing hair length. We’ll drape you in Versace and diamonds. Then we’ll tell people your parents are Nebraska land barons.”
“They’re wheat farmers.”
“No, no.” Eugenie batted the air as if whipping up her story. “They launched an exclusive brand of hybrid organic wheat germ that’s all the rage in Paris.”
“Wheat germ? My father is somewhere right now cringing over his cholesterol-laden breakfast and doesn’t know why.” No doubt this woman would have her way. Kelly surrendered to the inevitable. “I guess I can live with Versace and the wheat germ. But no feathers.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
The wicked glint in cerulean eyes so like Ethan’s made Kelly doubt the woman’s word. She picked at the hem of Eugenie’s caftan. “And no sarcophagi.”
“Brat.”
Kelly relaxed into the sofa with an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, then, maybe one chiffon diamond-studded turban.”
Eugenie’s face smoothed, no laughter in sight. She lifted a lock of Kelly’s hair from the sofa back. “Oh no, my dear. I wouldn’t cover this glorious mane for anything.”
Her hair?
She’d never thought of her hair as anything other than an obnoxious tangle. Kelly looked for signs that Eugenie might be flattering her just to win her point and found nothing of the sort. The woman meant it.
Not that it should matter in the least.
But it did. After years of waiting for even one affirmation from her mother, Kelly soaked up that single comment. If this woman ordered a torturous combo of a seaweed wrap and bikini wax, Kelly would be first in line.
Ethan, on the other hand, would pay big-time for his latest deception.
“It’s all about deception, Kelly. Make your attacker believe you can’t defend yourself.” Ethan stood across from Kelly on the exercise mat in his private gym. He hoped like hell this hand-to-hand combat lesson would end soon. He’d had enough of flipping, tripping and touching to last him two lifetimes. “Use your smaller size to your advantage by lulling him into a false sense of security. Then blast him with an explosive surprise shot.”
Security? He wanted the security of a mission in, say, Taiwan. Yeah, Taiwan, where he could kick butt against a pack of bad guys.
Instead, he was stuck in the mansion gym serving as Kelly’s personal trainer.
Much more body tangling and he would lose his mind. Please, Lord, he hoped she’d absorbed today’s self-defense lesson and they could move on to weaponry. He could use some time with his 9mm to blast holes in a target, a safe outlet for his frustration.
“Remember, Kelly, it’s all in the hips.” He did not want to think about her hips. “Lower your center of gravity so the power of your punch comes from your body and not just the body part.”
“Right.” She nodded, her ponytail bobbing. “Sling hips into the punch and follow through.”
“Good. Now roll out the moves we reviewed. Got it?”
“Got it.” A stray lock of hair whispered across her damp brow. Kelly braced her feet apart, her sweat pants pulling taut across her hips.
Ah, hell. Not her hips again.
He forced his eyes up to her face. Not that it offered his libido any relief. Her swept-back hair revealed high cheekbones models paid big bucks to create with implants.
The Nebraska State T-shirt showed a lot more than her bulky sweaters. Even a sweaty mess, she looked damned good inside that T-shirt—and felt good underneath it.
He wanted to crawl into a cold shower.
Not wise when he still didn’t know who’d followed them or why. His review of the security camera footage from when they’d arrived had revealed zip, nada, zilch. The tail could have been a fluke—except he didn’t believe in coincidence.
“Ethan?”
Kelly’s voice kicked through his thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Are you ready?”
“Of course.” He advanced a step and ignored the perfume of Kelly’s shampoo mingling with perspiration, so close to the scent of sex. “Just waiting for your go-ahead. Let’s try it again.”
Friendship was more important, he reminded himself.
Says who? his libido asked.
“Shut up.”
Kelly looked up. “What?”
“Nothing.” Too much of nothing at the moment.
Friendship did count, especially for a man who didn’t allow many into the inner circle of his life. The fewer people he let in, the less chance he had of losing them.
And no way in hell did he intend to lose Kelly on this mission. He would train her until she dropped. “Envision someone you want to hurt.”
She blinked once and nailed him with her gaze. “Done.”
“No time for sympathy.”
“Got it.”
“Focus. Pull your mind in tight. You have to quit thinking about all those pretty kicks you see on TV or in whatever class you took. This is about street fighting, blending techniques that work for your body.” He’d spent the whole night before putting together a Kelly plan, a mix of women’s defense courses and Krav Maga used by elite forces around the world.
Ethan stepped closer, crowded her space to emphasize the differences in their size. Recognizing limitations was the first step to overcoming them. “No rules. Fight dirty. Fight to win because losing means you’re dead. List target zones.”
“Vulnerable tissue areas—throat, eyes, inner arm, inner thigh. And of course the cro—”
“Yeah, I’ll let you slide by without practicing that one.” Technically,
