they sat off to the side watching. Zac moved a little further into the room then stilled, arrested by the sight that greeted his eyes.
Sarai stood in the center of a black rubber mat in front of a martial arts dummy. She was wearing a pair of black shorts that showed off exactly how long and toned her legs were. She also wore a sports bra with no shirt. Zac pulled his mind away from what the sight of all that skin was doing to his body and keyed in on the fact that anyone with half a brain could see exactly how fit she was. He doubted there was an ounce of fat anywhere on her lean body.
But, more importantly, she was also clearly trained. At the moment she was practicing a series of kicks, punches, and countermoves with the dummy. She was fast, deft, and accurate, the moves ingrained into muscle memory. Zac held in a growl. Andie had never said anything about Sarai knowing martial arts. He didn’t like to be surprised.
But, as he watched Sarai run through her exercises, his frustration quickly morphed into fascination. She was fast. So fast, that often he didn’t see her move until she’d struck. Her movements were fluid, graceful, and, based on the impact to the dummy, deceptively forceful.
He stood there, unnoticed, while her concentration was fully on her movements. He watched for the next half-hour as she worked her body hard. Finally, she turned away from the dummy with a grin. “Too bad we don’t have a place where I can—”
She cut herself off when she saw Zac standing there. Her smile disappeared. “I…didn’t realize you were back,” she finally said. She walked over to where he stood and grabbed a towel off a stack on the table. “How’d it go today?”
“Good.”
“What was it exactly?”
“We’re selling some of the land we own here. Just working through some of the details.”
“Oh.” She bent down to pull a chilled bottle of water out of a small fridge and took a long swig. “Why?”
Zac watched a bead of sweat roll down her neck, over her chest, between the swells of her breasts. After seeing her in only very conservative clothes, this sudden display of skin was damn sexy. With effort he pulled his eyes back to her face. He recognized diversionary tactics when he saw them and wouldn’t be distracted from getting the information he wanted. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Where do you think?”
He should have figured. Andie was Sarai’s best friend and one of the best fighters he’d ever met. “She never told me you had fighting skills.”
“Well…it was a secret. She risked her life teaching me. She said I needed to be able to defend myself.”
“She was right. What style was that?” Andie was an expert at multiple forms of hand-to-hand combat, thought she preferred the more acrobatic, brutal method of Krav Maga. What Sarai had just been doing was something else entirely.
“That was mostly wing chung, a type of kung fu. Or, more specifically, it was Jeet Kune Do.”
Zac tipped his head to the side. “Bruce Lee’s fighting style?”
Sarai confirmed his question with a brief nod. “It’s a more fluid, adaptive methodology with less prescribed movement.”
“How often do you train?”
“Daily when I can. We hid this from Carstairs, so that hasn’t always been possible. I’ve been taking advantage of my newfound freedom at the Keller Dare since I’ve been there.”
He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I never saw you.”
“I still practiced very early in the morning.” She lifted a single shoulder in a shrug. “Some habits are hard to break,” she muttered.
Zac nodded. “How do you do sparring?”
A fair question. Some people were very technically proficient but lost all focus when faced with reacting to other fighter’s movements. Sarai said nothing for a moment.
She glanced at George and Scott. “I don’t spar.”
She was holding back again. Over the last few weeks, he’d come to realize
Sarai stood in the center of a black rubber mat in front of a martial arts dummy. She was wearing a pair of black shorts that showed off exactly how long and toned her legs were. She also wore a sports bra with no shirt. Zac pulled his mind away from what the sight of all that skin was doing to his body and keyed in on the fact that anyone with half a brain could see exactly how fit she was. He doubted there was an ounce of fat anywhere on her lean body.
But, more importantly, she was also clearly trained. At the moment she was practicing a series of kicks, punches, and countermoves with the dummy. She was fast, deft, and accurate, the moves ingrained into muscle memory. Zac held in a growl. Andie had never said anything about Sarai knowing martial arts. He didn’t like to be surprised.
But, as he watched Sarai run through her exercises, his frustration quickly morphed into fascination. She was fast. So fast, that often he didn’t see her move until she’d struck. Her movements were fluid, graceful, and, based on the impact to the dummy, deceptively forceful.
He stood there, unnoticed, while her concentration was fully on her movements. He watched for the next half-hour as she worked her body hard. Finally, she turned away from the dummy with a grin. “Too bad we don’t have a place where I can—”
She cut herself off when she saw Zac standing there. Her smile disappeared. “I…didn’t realize you were back,” she finally said. She walked over to where he stood and grabbed a towel off a stack on the table. “How’d it go today?”
“Good.”
“What was it exactly?”
“We’re selling some of the land we own here. Just working through some of the details.”
“Oh.” She bent down to pull a chilled bottle of water out of a small fridge and took a long swig. “Why?”
Zac watched a bead of sweat roll down her neck, over her chest, between the swells of her breasts. After seeing her in only very conservative clothes, this sudden display of skin was damn sexy. With effort he pulled his eyes back to her face. He recognized diversionary tactics when he saw them and wouldn’t be distracted from getting the information he wanted. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Where do you think?”
He should have figured. Andie was Sarai’s best friend and one of the best fighters he’d ever met. “She never told me you had fighting skills.”
“Well…it was a secret. She risked her life teaching me. She said I needed to be able to defend myself.”
“She was right. What style was that?” Andie was an expert at multiple forms of hand-to-hand combat, thought she preferred the more acrobatic, brutal method of Krav Maga. What Sarai had just been doing was something else entirely.
“That was mostly wing chung, a type of kung fu. Or, more specifically, it was Jeet Kune Do.”
Zac tipped his head to the side. “Bruce Lee’s fighting style?”
Sarai confirmed his question with a brief nod. “It’s a more fluid, adaptive methodology with less prescribed movement.”
“How often do you train?”
“Daily when I can. We hid this from Carstairs, so that hasn’t always been possible. I’ve been taking advantage of my newfound freedom at the Keller Dare since I’ve been there.”
He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I never saw you.”
“I still practiced very early in the morning.” She lifted a single shoulder in a shrug. “Some habits are hard to break,” she muttered.
Zac nodded. “How do you do sparring?”
A fair question. Some people were very technically proficient but lost all focus when faced with reacting to other fighter’s movements. Sarai said nothing for a moment.
She glanced at George and Scott. “I don’t spar.”
She was holding back again. Over the last few weeks, he’d come to realize
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