For His Protection by Amber A Bardan

she walked
to the door, stopping to run her fingers through her tangled hair. She
positioned one foot sideways a step away from the door then opened it partially
against the inside of her calf.
    Some habits die hard.
    Ty stood on the threshold and the sight of him nearly made
her fall backward. No suit today, just black track pants and a gray T-shirt
that appeared to be made specifically to allow him to torment the female
species with his muscular glory. Even so, he managed to wear workout gear like
a boss. Just a more relaxed boss. Soft, curling brown hair kissed his temples.
Not slicked back as it had been before. Now his hair shone in the hallway light,
calling for female fingers to run through it.
    His gaze ran down what he could see of her in the space
she’d allowed, lingering where his shirt ended on her thighs. His expression
heated, the line of his mouth softening as if he needed to get more air between
his lips. He cleared his throat and shifted then slid a black gym bag from his
shoulder—her bag.
    “I had someone go to my place and get this. Thought you
might want to wear something other than my shirt or an evening dress to
boot-camp.”
    Her bag, her things, something comfortable to wear. How
freaking thoughtful. She moved her foot and opened the door wider, then reached
for the bag.
    Her fingers froze around the handle. “Hold on, how do you
know I teach boot-camp?”
    She snatched the bag from his grip and stepped back.
    Ty’s brow rose and he ran long fingers through the curls on
his forehead. “I thought we established yesterday that yes, maybe I did track
you down a bit.” He held up his palms. “Totally not stalking.”
    Brooke clutched the bag to her chest and studied his Mr.
Innocent smile. Warning rang in her ears, reminding her that this man’s interest
in her went a shitload further than her professional skills. “You don’t need to
worry about my classes.”
    He shrugged and buried his hands in his pockets. “I’ve
always wanted to try a boot-camp. Looks fun.”
    Brooke let the bag go and placed her hands on her hips.
“Fun?” She laughed. “Oh, honey, you have no idea.” She let her gaze flick over
him, over the width of his chest and the breadth of his biceps. Not excessive
muscles but perfectly, athletically beautiful. There was no doubting his
fitness. But he was far too presumptuous and that needed fixing—pronto. “I
think you’ll need to sit this one out—work up to it.”
    He just grinned wider, grinned with boyish, mischievous
zeal. “I’m game.”
    “If you think you can handle it, Pup,” she said and shrugged
one shoulder, a half smile tugging her cheek. Oh she was going to enjoy
destroying him. Cocky male demolition was her specialty. There were reasons
none of the men in her classes dared step a foot out of line, why none had ever
had the nerve to hit on her.
    “Pup?” he said, straightening.
    “Yeah, that’s what you remind me of with your puppy-dog
eyes.”
    “What puppy-dog eyes?” he said.
    “I’ll be ready in five. You better be prepared.” She smiled,
watching the moment of confusion cross his eyes before she slid the door shut.
    In less than an hour she’d have the great Tyler Black
completely at her mercy. Maybe then his threat to her emotional and physical
stability would be conquered.
    * * * * *
    Brooke coiled the cord of her whistle around her fist and
faced Ty. He stood in line with the five other men and two women in her Sunday
session. She stepped in close. The tips of her sneakers touched his, then she
drew herself up to her fullest height. “Sure you’re up for this? I won’t go
easy on you.”
    “Oh I’d never ask for you to go easy on me, baby,” he
said, keeping his jaw straight like a soldier, only moving his eyes to look at
her.
    She smiled and raised the whistle. “Don’t say I didn’t warn
you.”
    Brooke blew the whistle and the sound rang through the park.
The class sprang into action, each participant sprinting toward a