The Specialist. Dani Sinclair

      “Sorting laundry?”

      “I’ll show you.”

      Kendra watched him carry her cases upstairs. He was up to something and she had to go along. Mitchell Forbes had made that entirely clear this morning. Anything—even putting up with Rafe’s teasing—was worth obtaining her goal.

      She followed him to the rear of the finished basement, surprised to find a small gym set up.

      “You want me to work out?” She demanded, coming to an abrupt halt. “Sorry, I work on computers, I don’t lift them.”

      Rafe chuckled again. The sound rippled right down her spine, inviting the listener to share his amusement.

      “We’ll get to that part later. Take off your boots and step on the mats.” He was already removing his own boots.

      “Planning to get kinky?” Her heart began pumping a little faster.

      “Maybe later,” he said suggestively. Then he surged to his feet. He was a large, vital man. The basement abruptly felt isolated, locking the two of them away from the rest of the world. Rosa was just up the steps in the kitchen, but that seemed a long way off all of a sudden.

      Kendra tugged off her own boots, wincing at the blister forming on the back of her left heel. She should have worn the boots more often to break them in.

      “Still have your knife?”

      She nodded tightly.

      “I want you to come at me with it.”

      “What?”

      All traces of the humorous teasing had disappeared. “We’re going into a hostile environment, Kendra. I want to see just how well prepared you are to take care of yourself.”

      “You don’t need to worry about me.”

      “Prove it.”

      Her heart pounded faster. “I might hurt you.”

      “I’ll take that chance.”

      It was the dismissive way he said the words. She set her jaw, stepped on the mat and started toward him reaching for her knife. His arm snaked out without warning. It happened so fast, the action was a blur. Rafe held her wrist in his grip, applying just enough pressure to make her fingers go numb.

      “Lesson number one,” he said as he took the knife away as easily as if she were a child. “Never get close enough to let your assailant take your weapon away.”

      “You weren’t able to take it away from me before.”

      “No, I didn’t choose to take it away from you before.”

      Angrily, she brought up her knee. Rafe deflected the action before he threw her lightly to the padded mat on the floor. He followed her down, pinning her there.

      A wave of sensations swamped her while a spicy light masculine scent filled her head. Accompanying the annoying surge of awareness was humiliation at how easily he had defeated her.

      His eyes were darkly kind, but it was his mouth, much too close to hers, that held her complete attention. Every hormone in her body leaped to unexpected life. What would it be like to be kissed by Rafe?

      “Never had any judo or martial arts training?”

      His breath whispered across her cheek, reminding her of the last time he’d pinned her like this. Then his hand had cupped her breast. Now her nipples rose in memory and she knew that he was as aware of that fact as she was.

      “No formal training,” she agreed totally flustered as she tried to shove him off without success.

      Rafe smiled, a wickedly slow, superior sort of smile. Instantly, her temper flashed.

      “But I’m a real fast learner.”

      And she kicked him in the shin right before she socked him in the jaw.