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physical release of an intense, all-out fight.
    She bit her lip and looked around the gym. Finally, she groaned and said, “I could spar with you.”
    He raised a brow. “You know how to box?” She wasn’t wearing the proper shoes, and she hadn’t carried out a pair of gloves with her from the locker room.
    “My dad was a fighter,” she said, looking as if it physically hurt to open up to him even that much.
    “That doesn’t mean you can fight,” he said, egging her on.
    “Try me,” she answered.
    The challenge in her words hit him at multiple levels. Oh, he wanted to.
    “All right. Then let’s go.” He caught the hesitant eagerness lighting up her eyes. Finally, he’d found something that could break through her icy shell. If only he had the same effect on her.
    He reached down for a pair of rental gloves from the bin by the ring. “Are you okay with these?”
    She nodded and put one on. She wrapped tape around her wrist with a practiced hand, and he knew she wasn’t just blowing smoke up his ass; she owned a pair of her own. When she tucked the second glove under her arm and slipped her hand inside, he reached for the tape and grabbed her wrist. She was very still while he held her, and he found himself lingering so that he could touch her longer than was necessary.
    When they climbed up into the ring, she alternated stretching her arms over her head and behind her neck and danced on the balls of her feet.
    He went through the motions, too, but he’d already warmed up, so he was really just watching her.
    A few minutes later, she nodded and moved to the middle of the canvas. “Ready.”
    She threw the first punch. He cut back and turned to follow her as she slipped off to the left, but when he countered, he held back, and she had no trouble dancing out of reach. “What was that? I’ve seen children punch better than that,” she taunted him.
    He grinned. “All right, you asked for it.”
    His next shot landed true, but she shrugged it off and followed it up with a wide bolo punch. He blocked and responded quickly with a combo counterattack to the ribs which she deflected by catching him in the chin.
    He was surprised by how good she was. Her stance was perfect and relaxed, her reaction time was quick. She knew how to judge her opponent’s next move and beat him to the punch. She knew when to take a shot and when to hold back and wait for a better opening. He marveled at the strength in her small bones. She was a natural, and before he knew it, both of them were breathing heavily. The cool, controlled Ms. Porter he’d met earlier today had melted away with the sweat of their exertion. There was a smile on her face—and that was maybe the biggest surprise. Her smile did things to him that should be banned out of the bedroom. It was like a lightning bolt to his gut.
    He spat his mouth guard into his glove and grinned. “You’ve got moves, Ms. Porter.”
    The color in her cheeks deepened beyond what could be blamed on the physical exertion, sending a bolt of lust through him so strong he wanted to tell everyone else in the gym to go to hell and throw her down on the mats.
    She grunted and held her fists up in front of her face, but Steve had already gotten the workout he came for, and his body was now intensely focused on its other needs. He’d been guiding the fight just so he could watch her chest rise and fall when she danced away, and so that he could brush up against her as often as possible.
    She took a rash, reckless swing at him, the kind of swing she never would have taken at the beginning of the fight. Was he wearing her down? And not just physically?
    His grin widened, and he sidestepped. She doubled back, but tripped over her foot when he feinted, throwing her off balance and right into his arms.
    Like a charm . She smelled like cinnamon even with the sweat beading her skin. Her breathing hitched as she tilted her face up, and those pouty full lips were right there, begging for the