In Love by Design (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) (23 page)

“
Holy Moly! So your family is preppers and you have a bunker! I’ll never tell anyone, but expect a knock on the door at the zombie apocalypse.” I set my mug down on the dresser. Slipping my arms loosely around Luke’s waist, I shook my head sadly and pouted my lips. “You poor, poor man, it’s such a good thing you have me as your girlfriend.” I slid a hand up to pat a bicep. “It’s okay, though. After we’re done with my lesson in the barn, I’ll give you a lesson.”

His smile grew
. He slipped his hands under the waistband of my sweats while arching a satanic brow. “Oh yeah, and what lesson might that be, Sweetheart?”

I grinned and stood on ti
ptoe to kiss his raspy cheek. “A lesson in multitasking.”

Over his laughter, I
slid out of his arms, picked up my coffee, and headed into the short hallway. Across the hall from the master were two bedrooms on either side of a main bath.

Walking
left towards the main hallway, I called over my shoulder, “Come on, time’s a wastin’ and I’ve got a long training list!”

Blowing on the hot coffee, I managed another couple of sips as I thought about my timetable for the day. I’d have to leave here by 11:40 to meet Pam
for lunch. That meant being done in the barn and in the shower by 10:30.

‘
Alone in the shower,’
I amended, already regretful.

Entering the
kitchen, I stopped short. The turquoise table was set for breakfast and there’s a white bakery box. That was reason enough for applause, but what caught my attention was the overflowing bouquet of roses in the white milk glass pitcher in the center. The blooms are stunning. In every color from the darkest velvety crimson to the purest, creamiest white, there had to be three dozen flowers.

“
Read the card, Anabel,” Luke urged quietly.

Darting a
tenuous smile Luke’s way, I put down the coffee on the counter top. I tried to walk sedately over to the table, but I may have skipped. I love flowers.

I
plucked the small white card from where it nestled in the roses and greenery, and couldn’t stop from leaning down and taking in the scent of a full blown pink bloom. It had curling edges tinged in peach and smelled heavenly, just like a rose should.

Slitting the tiny envelope open with my fingernail,
I glanced back at Luke again. My smile turned into a wide grin when I surprised him watching me covertly. His face was so serious and I swear the look I see in his eyes was calculating, as if he’s cataloguing my every reaction against a list of responses he had in his head.

My eyes caressed
my favorite manipulator in return. His black hair was tousled and he was unshaven. He was wearing a white T-shirt and sweats like I am, but doesn’t look grungy. He was fit, bronzed, strong, and I couldn’t help but notice the healthy bulge growing in the front of his sweats. The heady feeling of knowing I affect him this way was so arousing, I wouldn’t be surprised if I made squishing noises when I walk. However, I kept my thighs firmly together because I wanted my self defense lesson and workout. This vicious cycle of arousal was so endlessly distracting; it would be a miracle if I get anything accomplished this weekend.

I
raised my eyes slowly from his sweats and gave Luke a smile full of promise. I was very glad that I’m an expert at multitasking because he was right, I can’t keep my hands off him. Or maybe I can, but I sure don’t want to. I read the card.

Anabel,

If
roses are the language of love,

Y
ou’ve colored my world.

Luke

Unable to trust myself to look up
, I said in a low voice, “Thank you. The roses, the card, the ring—they’re all very beautiful.”

I busied
myself carefully placing the card back in the envelope and then placing the card in the plastic fork thingy in the flowers. Luke’s arms came around me and crossed over in front. He rocked us sideways, back and forth, and I held onto his forearms while he nuzzled in my neck.

His voice
was a seductive rumble near my ear and I closed my eyes. “My father told me when a man loves a woman; he thinks he knows what kind of man he is, but to keep that love, he should think harder about the kind of man he wants to be.” Luke’s voice was soft, “I’m still learning what kind of man to be. If I don’t give you the words enough, it’s not because I don’t mean them.”

A
s I melted at his confession, my own awkwardness with the mushy stuff dissolved. I turned in his arms. First and foremost, I will always love how self-secure Luke is and I smiled up at him in admiration. All of our many flaws be damned, they are nothing when measured against what I feel for this man. I guess I was learning what kind of woman I want to be, as well.

I sigh
ed with pure happiness, not caring for the moment what Luke’s calculating looks meant or why he’s making bad business deals. “I am female, so a few love words are a necessary evil, but my vote is for your actions any day.”

Luke’s
irresistible grin broke wide. “Then you and I are always going to understand each other, Anabel.”

Moving
against the length of his erection I feel nudging against my belly, I raised my brows in mock surprise and whispered, “Oh my, my. I believe you’re right!”

Luke
cupped my cheeks, his lashes fanning over eyes darkening with passion. He leaned down to touch my lips with his, our tongues slowly tasting in a long good morning kiss while his fingers stroked my face.

I t
hink it was accurate to blame my fingers stroking up and down between us for what happened next. Luke suddenly broke our kiss and twirled me around. This time his hands didn’t stop at just slipping under the waistband of my sweats. His fists yanked them down to my ankles, along with my organic cotton, pink-and-black striped boy shorts.

Hopefully, Uncle Benny
was smiling benevolently down on us as we christened the chrome and Formica table. Hopefully, he was also forgiving of the china plate that just went crashing to the floor, after being systematically jumped across the table and flying off the edge.

M
y morning workout had begun.

‘Ain’t multitasking grand?’

Friday, 12/07/12

9:
25 AM

“I don’t understand!”
Rinsing off our breakfast plates at the sink, I turned to Luke standing beside me. “Go back to that first part and tell me again why most martial arts are a waste of time in a fight.”

Swallowing the final swig of his orange juice, Luke gave
me a measured look over the rim of the glass that had me biting my cheek.

“You understood me perfectly the first time.
” He handed me the empty glass and said, “Accept there is no death blow that I can teach you ‘to win every fight against man or beast’ that doesn’t involve a round to the brain, and take it off your list.”

“Geez,
way to crush me,” I complained under my breath and he snorted in derision while putting on his jacket.

A
fter wiping my hands on the kitchen towel, I dutifully deleted “Ancient Secret Death Blow” from the list of lesson suggestions noted in my phone, but not without acute disappointment. Of course, I also like to let my mind dwell on get rich quick daydreams.

I
sighed and zipped the phone into the pocket of my pink fleece hoodie.

I looked up to find Luke staring at me with gleaming eyes. “You mean to tell me
that you really have a list and it actually had death blow written on it?”

My eyes widened that he should have to ask. “
Only in the number one spot!”

S
eeing Luke’s broad shoulders silently shaking, as he walked into the back hall, I called after him, “Hey, Dreamkiller, a girl can always hope!”

Keeping
my promise to Anna to go nowhere without my gun, I grabbed my purse off the back of a kitchen chair before skipping after Luke outside. He’s still smirking, as he locked the door behind us and reached for my hand to tuck it firmly in the crook of his elbow.

Lifting my
face to the morning sun beaming down, I synthesized Vitamin D while trailing a step behind Luke on the narrow sidewalk. Blue skies, lack of biting winds, and mild temperature in the high twenties were all gifts to be savored on a Minnesota day in December.

Walking along the graveled drive, I hugged Luke’s arm to my breast and referred back to our earlier
unfinished conversation at breakfast. “Are you saying that taking kickboxing classes is worthless?”

“
Those kinds of classes are okay for working out and flexibility, but for self defense, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” Luke glanced down. I saw the amusement flash across his face at my frown before he went back to scanning the driveway ahead and the outbuildings on our right. “You’d be much better off practicing Krav Maga.”

“I’ve heard of that, it’s Israeli, rig
ht?” I asked

“Yes, Krav Maga’s the
street-fighting martial art practiced by the Israeli army. Krav Maga’s philosophy is to train at down-and-dirty fighting techniques until they become instinctive when the fight or flight reaction kicks in.”

“H
mm, that does sound like what I should be learning,” I agreed happily.

Luke smile
d down at me. “It’s a great workout, too. Did I ever tell you that my company has a program where every new employee completes an abbreviated version of the same training our field operators do?”

“Gee, you’ve
blabbed on and on so much about your company, I can’t keep it all straight in my head,” I retorted, rolling my eyes.

Luke squeeze
d my arm and laughed before explaining, “I instigated this training for a twofold reason. It’s a good way for me to get to know all of our employees, and I want to make damn sure they understand what our T-1 operators are up against out in the field.”

“What does T-1 op
erator mean?” I asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“Tier One,” Luke answered succinctly
, stepping me around an icy spot on the drive. “A designation overused in the military but in our company it refers to the top quality of our field operators. We hire almost exclusively ex-special forces or law enforcement types with special skill sets. They already have high levels of training and they understand the risks.” His face was innocently bland. “We lure them to the dark side with offers of salaries higher than they’ll ever earn working for Uncle Sugar.”

I laugh
ed and said, “Oh, I can just imagine you luring.” I like listening to people that own businesses talk about their work, and since this is my secretive boyfriend opening up, it was even more interesting. “When you say ‘understand the risks’ what does this mean for the T-1 operators hired by your company?”

Luke
’s brow creased in thought before he answered, “Think of a person in the secret service protecting our elected officials.” He looked at me and I nodded. “This is a comparable job description to a T-1 operator. They understand the dedication we require to protect our clients. It’s why they get those fat paychecks.” His brow arched, “Does that answer your question?”

“
Why yes it does,” I replied, as we climbed the ramp to the barn door.

“Good
,” Luke unlocked the door and held it open for me to enter, smiling down as I passed him, “because my point in bringing up the training at DDL was to tell you the same thing I tell the regular employees. This goes from the IT geeks down to the job-sharing receptionists; the best way to win a fight is to avoid a fight.”

Before allowing the door to close
on the sunny day, Luke touched his cell phone and the lights came on in the large entry room where we stood, and beyond the closed metal gates in the main part of the cavernous barn.

Seeing my face, he h
eld up a forestalling hand. “Let’s go in here and I’ll explain the reasoning.”

“Oh, I understand the reasoning, believe me, but
avoiding trouble or running away isn’t always an option,” I replied, following Luke after he pulled open the metal gate with a loud rattle. We entered into my boyfriend’s man cave that could rival a Lifetime Fitness Center and walked over to the bar area.

Pulling out a
backless bar stool for me, Luke unzipped his jacket and draped it over the bar. The barn was chilly but I’d soon be working out, so I did the same with my hoodie. We sat facing each other in sweats and T-shirts.

Straddling his stool
with hands drumming flat on his knees, Luke continued. “It all goes back to the second tip I mentioned last night. Remember what I said it was?”

“
Yes.” I recited dutifully, “Situational awareness is the most important key to self defense.”

His lip
s twitched while he praised, “Excellent, Anabel. When the average person hears the words situational awareness they immediately think of a deserted street late at night or walking in a bad part of town.”

I smiled at
this statement because an image of a dark street at night was exactly what had flashed through my head. “Is that wrong?”

“No, that’s right, but
only partially. If you are unlucky enough or idiot enough to be caught in those situations, chances are you’re very aware of the danger and on high alert.” Luke’s fist tapped my knee near his. “Self defense is about being aware of your surroundings everywhere you are, day or night. This includes out on the street in broad daylight going to the grocery store or,” his dark brows came together and he added pointedly, “when you are alone at night in dark parking lots. You should never place yourself in the position to have to be on high alert, which brings me back to self defense means becoming an expert at avoidance.”

He leaned back and observed me.
“So, situational awareness in mind, was there anything you would have done differently last night?”

I laughed shortly. “Other than realizing the whole back parking lot is one hot security mess, what sticks in my craw is not listening to my
gut about the difference in lighting.” Thinking over how to say it best, I went on slowly, “I looked for ways to justify why my instincts were off base instead of trusting them and reacting.”

Luke nodded in agreement,
and his grin lit up his harsh face. “That’s a perfect example, and the hardest to learn to overcome. There didn’t appear to be any direct threat when you noticed the lighting was brighter, so it’s easy to blow off. You’re tired, it’s late, and really, what are you supposed to do? For the average citizen going about their business, ninety-nine percent of the time it works out fine to blow off their instincts.” Luke’s mouth kicked up and he said wryly, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve had years of training and did the same thing about my gut instincts with the van.”

Palms up, I asked, “
So what do you think I should have done last night?”

“You said it already—trust and react,” Luke answered immediately.

Green eyes dispassionately surveyed me up and down, as I gazed back and waited, thrilled to be seeing this professional side of Luke.

“These are the pros
I see in your favor for self defense training.” Voice neutral, as if he’s reading down a list, Luke ticked off on his fingers, “You are in relatively good cardio condition, you have a general knowledge of firearms and a limited ability to shoot a gun, you are smart and quick, you are able to function under pressure, and you have more guts than most men I know.”

He frowned
slightly while saying this last part and I kept my face straight. My Dark Prince does not always think it’s a good thing Batgirl has these guts; he prefers her safe in the library.

“
Off the top, these are areas for improvement.” His fingers started ticking off again. “You are a short, lightweight female with no upper body strength, your cardio training is mainly jogging, you have no background of any martial arts or fighting skills, you walk with your head in the clouds, you shoot off your mouth, and you’re too brave for your own fucking good.”

My
baby blues had opened wider, and don’t think it escaped my notice that Luke needed two hands for finger ticking the cons, but contrary to what he may think, I am not bummed by his assessment.

How can I be when it’s the truth? Besides, he
’s right. For the average person, it was only logical that avoiding trouble at all costs was the first line of self defense.

I’ve always
considered myself an average person. As of late, I’m no longer so cocksure. Sighing internally, I made a mental note to add a Myer Briggs personality inventory to the To Do list. I’ve not done the research, but I suspect your average used bookseller was not getting into gun battles before their store opened or getting doped up with love juice in their back parking lots by gay Fixers.

Keeping
my eyes steady on Luke’s face, I took a deep yoga breath and pushed aside my inconvenient mini-identity crisis. I could breakdown later; my Sensei hasn’t started these lessons just to encourage me to run faster in the opposite direction of a fight.

Luke leaned forward
to speak and I swear I was paying attention, but my glance wandered off on its own volition to his lips. Contrasting with the masculinity of his bold nose and lean cheeks, Luke has the sensuous mouth of a voluptuary. That full lower lip was begging to be bitten and sucked on.

“
There is only one reason that I am willing to train a civilian like you on a level closer to an operator than a receptionist. Can you tell me that reason?”

I
dragged my eyes off his mouth and took a stab in the dark. “Umm, because I’ve kicked, killed, slapped, punched, and pulled hair in the last three weeks, but you’ve never seen me willingly answer a phone?”

Luke flicked my cheek and smiled
in approval. “That’s right, Anabel. You don’t hesitate one second to fight dirty with anything at your disposal. If a person can’t avoid a fight, they better be damn willing to do anything necessary to win. You can give someone all the training in the world,” Luke raised a fist and softly thumped my chest above my heart, “but that fierce competitiveness comes from within. People either have it or they don’t. You have it in spades, Princess.”

A
t that statement, I flew off my stool. Landing partially on Luke’s lap, I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. He reflexively caught me, but the bar stool rocked and it was iffy for a second if we’d topple over backwards, but I didn’t care.

Pulling back
from covering him in kisses with one final suck to that bottom lip, I whispered, “That was the best compliment I’ve ever received in my whole life. My god, I love you teaching me!”

Luke’s
hand had shot out to grab the bar to steady us. Still hanging on, he has a dazed expression, but doesn’t seem displeased at the interruption of our lesson.

Eyeing me, h
e slowly rubbed his hand across his mouth. “I wonder how you’ll show me the love when I teach you how to crush someone’s throat?”

I snuck in one more kiss
on his smiling mouth before releasing him. Sitting back on my stool, I reached both arms up behind my head to mess with my perfectly fine braid.