Susan Mallery Quote

It’s not all about hitting. There’s an art to it. A talent. You need power but also smarts. When to hit and where. You have to outthink your opponent. It’s not all about size. Determination and experience play a part. Like in business, she said. The skill set translates. She wrinkled her nose. Doesn’t it hurt when you get hit? Some. But boxing is what I knew. Without it, I would have just been some kid on the streets. You’re saying hitting people kept you from being bad? Something like that. Put down your glass. She set it on the desk. He did the same, then stepped in front of her. Hit me, he said. She tucked both hands behind her back. I couldn’t. The amusement was back. Do you actually think you can hurt me? She eyed his broad chest. Probably not. And I might hurt myself. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, then unfastened his tie. In one of those easy, sexy gestures, he pulled it free of his collar and tossed it over a chair. Raise your hands and make a fist, he said. Thumbs out. Feeling a little foolish, she did as he requested. He stood in front of her again, this time angled, his left side toward her. Hit me, he said. Put your weight behind it. You can’t hurt me. Are you challenging me? He grinned. Think you can take me? Not on her best day, but she was willing to make the effort. She punched him in the arm. Not hard, but not lightly. He frowned. Anytime now. Funny. Try again. This time hit me like you mean it or I’ll call you a girl. I am a girl. She punched harder this time and felt the impact back to her shoulder. Duncan didn’t even blink. Maybe I’d do better at tennis, she murmured. It’s all about knowing what to do. He moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. You want to bend your knees and keep your chin down. As you start the punch, think about a corkscrew. He demonstrated in slow motion. That will give you power, he said. It’s a jab. A good jab can make a boxer’s career. Lean into the punch. She was sure his words were making sense, but it was difficult to think with him standing so close. She was aware of his body just inches from hers, of the strength and heat he radiated. The need to simply relax into his arms was powerful. Still, she did her best to pay attention, and when he stepped in front of her again so she could demonstrate, she did her best to remember what he’d said. This time, she felt the impact all the way up her arm. There was a jarring sensation, but also the knowledge that she’d hit a lot harder. Did I bruise you? she asked, almost hoping he would say yes, or at least rub his arm. No, but that was better. Did you feel the difference? Yes, but I still wouldn’t want to be a boxer. Probably for the best. You’d get your nose broken. She dropped her arms to her sides. I wouldn’t want that. She leaned closer. Have you had your nose broken? A couple of times. She peered at his handsome face. I can’t tell. I was lucky. She put her hand on his chin to turn his head. He looked away, giving her a view of his profile. There was a small bump on his nose. Nothing she would have noticed. You couldn’t just play tennis? she asked. He laughed, then captured her hand in his and faced her. They were standing close together, his fingers rubbing hers. She shivered slightly, but not from cold. His eyes darkened as he seemed to loom over her. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He swallowed. Annie. The word was more breath than sound. She heard the wanting in his voice and felt an answering hunger burning inside her. There were a thousand reasons she should run and not a single reason to stay. She knew that she was the one at risk, knew that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent. But the temptation was too great. Being around Duncan was the best part of her day.