Chapter Eight
The class full of women listened intently to her explanations, but she caught more than one sneaking a peek at Tanner, who had followed her to the Y, making himself comfortable in an upper-corner bleacher seat, presumably to watch the action. Her students were probably more interested in his availability and what it took to get him naked than nervous at having a man watching their amateur attempts with new positions and movements. Almost all were young, around college age, with a sprinkling of married thirty-year-old women seeking something to do for themselves instead of their families for once. All would titter and soak up attention from an attractive man any time they could. Not that she would blame them. She found herself seeking Tanner out more often than not.
She demonstrated high, medium, and low punches before walking around each woman, checking their technique and correcting any form issues. They practiced on the large blue mat that covered most of the gym floor, not that they really needed the cushion with the skills she was focusing on for the day. Normally, the women picked up each skill quickly after a few minutes of practice. Oakley praised them often, verbally pointing out correct actions in front of the group and encouraging their confidence to grow.
The hour session ended with each woman grabbing their gear, and heading out of the room. Oakley excused them, bade farewell then began to clean up, stuffing her items back in the duffel bag.
Only then did Tanner head down from the bleachers, striding over to her. “You’re a good instructor.”
“Thanks.” She took a drink from her water bottle. “I’ve got a nice class.”
“The short blonde on the left side lacks focus.”
He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. “Beth. She’s besotted with her boyfriend, and I believe her mind stays on him constantly.” She grinned, thinking of the girl. “She’s doing much better than when the class first formed.”
He shook his head, but remained mute.
“What variety of martial arts do you use?” The fact that the military taught all their personnel hand-to-hand combat didn’t surprise her in the least. She’d have been astounded if every soldier didn’t have a class to learn the skill. What intrigued her was the format taught to each branch and whether they stuck with pure varieties of martial arts, mixed them up, or just gave a well-rounded education of realistic self-defense—down, dirty, and aimed at survival.
“Semper fu,” he answered while the corners of his mouth curled upward.
“Huh?”
A shrug followed. “The Marine Corp taught us a variety of forms.”
That answered her question. “I’m sure you’re proficient at all of them.” Marines weren’t known for shirking on anything, particularly training, from what little she knew.
“Want to find out?” He tossed out the offer, standing loosely next to her, arms hanging down at his side. Those brown eyes sparkled with challenge.
“What? How?” Suspiciously, she tried to read his face, not certain she liked the direction he was taking.
“Spar with me.”
Oakley blinked up at him. “You’re serious?” No way did she match his size or strength. Heck, if she guessed right, she didn’t even come close to his years of experience with the subject at hand. All that left her with a huge disadvantage.
“Yep. Come on. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Indecision sparked through her. He wouldn’t hurt her—she knew that for sure. But kick her butt? Probably. Cop a feel? Most definitely.
He must have read her hesitancy. “Chicken?” His mouth twitched.
Willfulness sprang into action. “Nope.” Grabbing her bag, she lugged it to the bleachers, plopping it down on the front row along with her water, giving them the entire mat free of obstacles. “Ground rules.”
“Such as?”
She considered how many limitations to set. Considering he probably only wanted to see her abilities while getting an opportunity to place his hands on her body, she didn’t think many were needed. “No pulling on the braid and no fondling the breasts.”
His smile widened. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
She snorted.
“Works for me.”
She blinked. “You don’t have any ground rules for me?”
“Nope. If I can’t defend myself, I deserve what I get.”
The information truly didn’t surprise her but added an element of intimidation at the same time. In his line of work, no one held back. That told her of his proficiency and absolute self-confidence. He’s going to wipe me in the dust in thirty seconds flat. The words chafed her competitive spirit, prodding her to put forth anything and everything in her bag of tricks.
“Deal.” She stuck her hand out, shaking his in a firm grip before beginning to circle clockwise, searching for her first opening.
Oddly, he didn’t raise his hands to a fighting position. Instead, they remained at his sides, his muscles relaxed as if he were simply performing warm-up stretches. The loose, dark-colored sweats allowed him ease of movement just as her shorts did. Without clothing restrictions, her moves could be quick and efficient.
She made the first move, throwing a middle punch followed immediately by a hook kick. Tanner easily sidestepped the first and blocked the second. His gaze followed her movements, even as his feet remained in constant motion. Oakley drew from her adept speed, realizing she couldn’t match him in strength. She counted on his larger frame to slow him down a hair, enough to allow her opportunities.
Five minutes into the match, she realized her earlier assessment didn’t hold true. Although he mainly took a defensive stance, the quickness of his hands and feet matched her own—perhaps his were even a little faster. His few offensive movements had her blocking and retreating, barely able to counter before his next advance.
She lashed out with a side kick, only for Tanner to grab her right arm to tug her off balance. Jerking back, she hooked her foot around his knee, pulling with all her might.
Tanner lost his balance, even as his grip remained sure. A moment later, he spun, taking the brunt of the fall, his body cushioning hers as they hit the mat heavily. With a nifty wrestling move, he immediately reversed their positions, placing her flat on her back, his body holding purchase over hers while he used one hand to gather her wrists, holding them above her head.
Oakley struggled for a second before she realized the uselessness of exerting such energy. He pinned her easily and nothing short of an earthquake would make him move until he wanted to. Fear swept through her.
“Easy,” Tanner whispered, watching her face. A moment later, he lowered his head.
She met his eyes and braced herself for the oncoming onslaught that never came. Instead, his soft lips gently meshed with hers, teasing and learning, asking no more than to share a moment in time. Relaxing under his coaxing caress, she met his advance with one of her own, tentatively following his lead, even as she licked his bottom lip and mimicked his tender affections.
The sounds of a man clearing his throat loudly rang through the gym, breaking the spontaneous intimacy. Tanner gracefully stood, reaching down to take Oakley’s hand and pull her up beside him.
Her face heated when she saw Sam, manager of the Y. A grin covered his face. “Nice moves.”
“I didn’t. I mean…” Oakley stammered, trying to explain the situation to her boss.
Tanner laughed, tugging her against his side. “Thanks.”
The guy winked at Oakley. “I meant the hand to hand.”
“Oh.” Her face steamed all the more. Both men guffawed, making her squirm. “Neanderthals.”
Sam’s laugher died down as he shot Tanner a serious look. “Service?”
“Yeah.”
“You ever want a job, come see me. I could use you to teach self-defense.”
Oakley dropped her mouth open as his words sank in. “You want to replace me?” Gasping, she felt her heart race.
“Nah. I meant to teach a class for the men, advanced classes in hand to hand.”
Relieved, Oakley sighed.
Tanner glanced down at her before appraising Sam. “I’ll consider it.”
With a nod, Sam lumbered out of the gym, closing the door behind him.
She elbowed Tanner hard in the ribs. “You scoundrel.” Her declaration came across more as an endearment than as an insult.
He snickered. “Such language.”