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“It sucks,” another young man muttered, earning a dagger look from a coach.
Beau threw back his head and laughed. “That’s great, bud. Respect women for sure. But my girl is an expert fighter and it’s just friendly sparring. I promise you she’d kick any of your butts. She could even kick his.” He pointed up at Ike.
Ike folded his arms across his chest. Just the sight of him was inspiring.
The team took a collective step back.
“No way,” one of the boys whispered. “Nobody could beat that guy.”
Myra’s throat went dry. Ike looked incredibly tough with his arm muscles bulging.
He strode down the bleachers, flipped over the railing and landed easily on the field ten feet below. He strode toward them and spread his hands, the muscles in his arms and shoulders all engaging.
“He’s got off the charts rizz,” a player said.
“So much drip,” another boy agreed.
“He’s jacked.”
“Beau is dead on that Myra could thrash any of you,” Ike said. “But none of you want to get beat up by a beautiful lady. She wouldn’t damage your ‘rizz’ like that.” He smiled. “And I can’t fight anyone under eighteen. Liability and all of that.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.
“Ah.” Beau laughed, and everybody seemed to relax. “Liability crap. See what I mean? No sense of humor.” He grinned at Ike and finally released his grip on Myra, clapping his hands together. “All right, let’s sign some autographs.”
The players cheered and lined up.
Myra chatted with some players and parents while Ike signed footballs, posters, and other paraphernalia the team must’ve sent to the high school. Her body slowly gravitated to where Ike was leaning against the fence below the grandstands. He looked casual, unconcerned, but she knew he missed nothing and could take on a battalion at any moment. She could also see a storm in his blue eyes.
Finally, she reached him. Their eyes met and an entire conversation happened. He wanted to know if she was all right. She assured him she was and that she appreciated him but still had to insist she could stand on her own. He didn’t like it, but he nodded and released her from his gaze, focused on checking everyone in the area.
Myra didn’t dare get too close or lean into him. The fact that she naturally wanted to lean against him concerned her. She’d fought on her own for many years. Her dad was great, but she’d had to be mom and big sister to her siblings while he’d worked overtime to provide for them. Then she’d fought valiantly to prove she was as good a police officer as any male on the force. Now she had to continually prove she was the Warrior Woman and could fight as the other bodyguards’ equal. Why did Ike make her want to let her guard down in every way? Would her dad be disappointed in her, or would he think she’d met her match?
Watching the players and Beau for a minute, she wanted to say so many things to Ike. She wanted to ask him a lot of questions. What she led with surprised her. She heard herself say quietly, “Just for the record, I like your sense of humor better than Beau’s.”
He chuckled softly. “Thanks.”
She wasn’t sure if she moved or Ike did, but their arms brushed and warmth spread through her. They both froze and stayed focused on Beau and their surroundings, but their arms stayed touching. She couldn’t riddle out why she was inexplicably drawn to him, and she didn’t want to analyze it, worry about it, try to stop it.
She wanted to enjoy it. That was foreign to her. Myra was a positive person and liked to tease, but she’d never really slowed down and enjoyed anything.
“I hate watching him paw you,” Ike admitted in a low growl.
More warmth spread through her. Why was he bothered by it? They weren’t together. Did he want to explore their connection and savor it like she was longing to? She didn’t dare ask.
This was all far too new, exciting, and scary.
“I can handle it,” she said. “I am a professional, you know.”
“I know.” He nodded to her, respect and regret in his blue eyes. Then he edged away until there was enough space between them she couldn’t have any kind of quiet conversation with him. She should’ve been relieved; she’d reminded them both that they were professionals and he didn’t need to watch out for her.
Instead of relief, disappointment swirled inside her.
Myra was a professional. That needed to be on repeat. She needed to figure out how to handle this intense attraction to her co-worker. Usually she shut down any feelings in a work situation, but Ike couldn’t be ignored. Their connection couldn’t be ignored. She’d been thrust into a fake dating situation and nonstop exposure with the likes of Ike Porter, her superstar idol.
She smiled at that. Any other female would be focused on the famous Beau Alexander and that fake dating situation.
Yet if they saw Ike, spent five minutes around his inspiring presence, or had him brush against them, they’d completely understand why she was longing for him and him alone.
She was a professional.
