Amery shot Molly a look, but she’d already started untying her laces. She unzipped her black riding boots and tossed them on top of her purse.

“This class is more involved than the typical women’s self-defense class you take at the Y. Taking charge of your safety is the first step since most violent acts happen one on one. But during this class you will learn together, and part of that is being supportive of each other and helping each other learn.”

Good philosophy.

“We’ll warm up. Nothing like the rigorous jujitsu warm-ups you’re seeing in other classes, I promise you. So spread out, arm’s length on each side.”

Molly headed for the back row, but Amery snagged her hand. “No hiding, remember?”

“You’re bossy even outside of work.”

Amery grinned.

But it seemed everyone wanted to be in the front row, so they ended up in the back anyway.

Sandan Zach walked a circle around the class members as he gave directions for gentle stretches. Amery wished she had on yoga pants—the jeans were cutting into her every time she moved.

Molly leaned over and puffed. “I thought he said this wouldn’t be a rigorous workout. I didn’t sign up for aerobics.”

“No doubt.” Amery felt a little out of breath herself. “And if he tries to make me run? Sorry, I’m making a break for the door.”

Molly snickered, but she stopped abruptly when Sandan Zach stared at her.

“Before we get started, are there any questions?”

“Yes. Why isn’t she wearing the required uniform?”

Amery froze. The commanding voice sent a chill through her. Like a hot breeze blowing across wet skin and resulting in head-to-toe goose bumps. Before she could turn around and determine if his face matched his sensual voice, her instructor piped in.

“I apologize, Sensei. Would you prefer that I excuse her from class?”

Excuse her from the class? Bullshit. Seemed Mr. Tattooed Bald Gatekeeper up front had neglected to remind her about the dress code, but that wasn’t her fault. She’d paid the fee; she wasn’t going anywhere. And why wasn’t either of these men, Mr. Dangerous and Delicious Voice or Drill Instructor Zach, addressing her directly?

“She can speak for herself.” Amery whirled around to face the sensei.

Holy hell. Good thing she’d locked her knees or else she might’ve fallen to them. The man’s face more than matched the seductive voice; he was quite simply the most stunning man she’d ever seen. High cheekbones and a wide, chiseled jawline courtesy of Germanic or Nordic genes in his lineage. His full lower lip bowed at the corners, giving his mouth a sensual curve. The slight bend in his nose added interest to his otherwise perfect features. And his eyes. She’d never seen eyes that hue—a light golden brown the color of topaz. The corners of his eyes tilted upward, indicating his family tree also included an Asian branch. His black hair nearly brushed his shoulders. Everything about this man, from his face to his posture, announced his commanding presence.

Sensei definitely wasn’t the decrepit man she’d imagined.

“Are you done?” he asked in that velvet voice, but his tone was decidedly clipped.

Amery blushed when she realized she’d been staring at him practically slack-jawed.

“Why isn’t your student wearing the required uniform?” he asked Sandan Zach again, while maintaining an intense eye lock with her.

“Why are you chewing him out? It’s not his fault I’m not wearing the right clothing,” she snapped.

And that whole could’ve heard a pin drop saying? Now Amery knew exactly what that meant. Seemed everyone in the entire building—not just in the vicinity—had gone silent and was gaping at her.

Then Mr. Sexy Sensei leaned forward, placing his mouth right next to her ear. “I don’t allow open defiance in my dojo. Ever.”

The warmth of his breath flowed across her neck and she suppressed a shiver.

“Is that clear?”

“Uh-huh.”

“‘Yes, sir,’ ‘Yes, Sensei,’ or ‘Yes, Master Black’ is an acceptable response. ‘Uh-huh’ is not.”

“Got it, uh, Master Black.”

“If you hope to stay in this class, I’d suggest you wear the proper clothing without argument.”

“Since I was a last-minute addition to this class, I don’t have the proper clothing.”

He said, “We’ll remedy that now. Follow me.”

His tenor demanded that she obey. She trailed after him, feeling every eye in the place on them. Her focus remained on the broad back in front of her.

Maybe it bothered her that he hadn’t turned around even once to see if she’d obeyed—he just assumed she had.

Because you aren’t exactly a rule breaker, Amery.

But “you can call me sir, Sensei, or Master Black” didn’t know that. Maybe since she’d mouthed off, he thought she was some kind of troublemaker. She swore she’d be as meek as a kitten from here on out—if only for Molly’s sake.

They cut down a short hallway.

He opened a door and Amery followed him into a storage area. On the far back wall were stacks of uniforms she’d seen everyone wearing. Some white, some black.

Sensei eyed her from the waist down, turned, and shoved his hand into a stack. Then he held out a pair of black pants.

“What are those? They look like pajama bottoms.”

“It’s called a gi and beggars cannot be choosers, can they, Mrs. . . . ?”

“Ms. Hardwick,” she retorted.

“Feel free to change in the bathroom across the hall as long as it doesn’t take you all night.”

Amery’s rarely seen rebellious side appeared again. Although she could count on one hand the number of men who’d seen her half-naked, something about this man pushed her buttons and she wanted to push back. “Not necessary. I’ll just change here.” She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans before pushing the denim off. Kicking them aside, she snatched the pants from his fingertips.

And Master Black didn’t pretend he wasn’t looking at her bare legs as she fumbled with the drawstrings. When his perusal of her lower half ended at her lavender bikini panties, he glanced up at her.

The blast of heat from those liquid gold eyes reminded her that her boldness was only an act.

His was not.

So not.

Was it possible to be burned by a look and frozen in place by it? At the same time?

Yep, if it was coming from Sensei’s laser eyes.

Why are you stalling? Get dressed and go.

Amery dragged the cotton pants up her legs and fled.

Or she tried to flee. But that sinfully compelling voice stopped her before she made it halfway down the hall. “Forgetting something, Ms. Hardwick?”

She faced him, feeling the rush of emotions that ran the gamut from annoyance to awe to alarm . . . and annoyance won out. “What?”

He held up her discarded jeans. “Don’t you want these?”

“Keep them as collateral,” she tossed over her shoulder, and hustled away.

And surprise, surprise, the man didn’t follow her.

In class, Sandan Zach didn’t pause in his lecture as she slid into her spot in the back row. “For most women, it goes against your natural response to fight back. So our aim isn’t to teach you how to start a fight, but how to defend yourself, which is a far cry from being the aggressor. Any questions?”

Amery had a ton of them, but she kept her mouth shut. Wouldn’t want to be known as the problem pupil any more than she already was.

“I’m sure questions will arise over the next few weeks. But right now we’ll do the most basic self-defense technique for an attack without a weapon. This is Shihan Knox. He’ll be assisting me in class.”

Shihan Knox came up behind Zach and snaked an arm around his neck.

“Three things to be aware of in this situation. How much head movement you have, where the person is behind you, and where your arms are. It’d be difficult in this position to try a reverse head butt to connect with the attacker’s nose. You might first try turning your head and biting the attacker’s arm. We’re not talking a little love bite, ladies. I’m talking about opening your mouth wide like you’re gnawing on a turkey leg and biting down like you’re trying to reach the bone.”

Other class members giggled.

Which didn’t amuse Sandan Zach at all.

“If your head is too immobilized for that, remember where your hands are. Usually right up here.” He wrapped his hands around Knox’s arm, trying to pull it away. “That is a wasted motion. Use your hands elsewhere. If your attacker is a man, ladies, you’ve got one shot to grab on to his junk and try to twist it off. That said, that’s a pretty risky move because a guy’s automatic response is to protect the family jewels. So you’ve got to assume he’ll anticipate where you plan to attack. Your best option is stomp on his foot.”

“But what if she’s wearing flip-flops and I’m wearing combat boots?” Shihan Knox asked.

“Good point. That won’t work. In that case, kick out and aim for the knee. Even connecting with the shin with just the back of the heel is painful and a hard-placed kick will often loosen up the attacker’s hold enough that you can escape.” Zach kicked out at Knox and he released him from the choke hold. “Let’s call this a victory for now. The goal has been achieved—to break the attacker’s hold.”

After fifteen more minutes of demonstrations, during which Amery’s eyes had sort of glazed over, Molly scooted closer and whispered, “Could you ever bite someone like that?”

“Hard enough to break the skin?”

She nodded.

“It’d depend.” Her eyes searched Molly’s. “Could you have bitten your attacker if you knew it would’ve stopped him?”