“No wonder I could barely follow the ball.” Even though she knew—sheknew—his ego didn’t require any more stroking, she had to say it. “That was the single greatest athletic feat I’ve ever seen in my entire life, Lucas. And I once saw a student do over two-thousand sit-ups in our gym. She just missed the national record.”
For the first time that evening, his dimples popped. “Poor kid.”
“I know. She was shaking at the end. Nearly threw up, too.” She couldn’t help a grin. “Much like me, when I realized her parents hadn’t signed a waiver beforehand. I’ll be making sure that never happens again.”
“The sit-ups?”
She shook her head. “The missing waiver.”
He laughed, then leaned his head back for a sip of water, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. But he was still looking at her the whole time. And when he’d drained the bottle, he raised his thick brows. “Want me to do that again? Or break it down for you?”
The keenness of her desire to watch him serve a second time startled her. This go-round, she wanted to be closer, to study the flex and movements of his body.
Out of academic curiosity, naturally.
“Again.” She cleared her throat, trying to remove the huskiness in her voice. “Please.”
So he retrieved the ball from his pocket and demonstrated another serve. This time, she paid attention to the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched and released, shifting beneath the thin fabric of his branded tee.
She still couldn’t discern individual movements. The whole act was one complicated, twisting motion, honed and perfect and lovely. After another ringing impact, the ball landed in a skid down the center line, near the point where all the lines converged. It rocketed into the boards with a clap of sound and bounced back toward them.
Licking her lips, she watched him amble toward his towel, his legs long and taut beneath his loose shorts. Those hard-muscled legs gleamed with a sheen of sweat, as did every other visible inch of his tall, honed body.
For the first time in her life, she understood sports groupies.
No wonder Lucas apparently had a coterie of young admirers. Why wouldn’t he?
“Are you interested in learning to do that? I’d be happy to teach you, even if it makes the lesson go a little late. Consider the extra time another birthday present.”
His voice startled her from her fugue state, and she flicked her eyes away from the tanned expanse of his bare skin. Maybe she should lean on the net for a little extra support?
“Um…” Focus. She needed to focus. “Thank you for the offer. But from what you just showed me, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She patted her knee and offered him a rueful smile. “Joint issues, remember?”
“Shit.” He took a step toward her. “Did you hurt your knee climbing those steps at lunch?”
When she held up a hand, he stopped in place. “No. I’m fine. Just being cautious.”
Technically, she reallyhadn’thurt her knee climbing those steps. The pain had come from the descent, as always.
“Okay, then. I don’t expect you to hit like I do, Tess.” Another swipe of the towel over his face. “Have you felt any pain from our lessons up to this point?”
“No.” Not physical pain, not from the lessons themselves. Or not too much, anyway, since he’d made certain she didn’t have to work very hard.
“Good. Then tell me more about when and how your knee hurts. I’ll accommodate any limitations you have and make certain the serve won’t cause you pain. And if there’s no way to do it without hurting you, we’ll go back to an easy rally.” He dumped the towel into his bag and braced his hands on his hips. “I won’t injure you. Trust me that far, at least.”
He expected her to trusthim, of all people?
Arrogance. Sheer arrogance.
He had no idea. Give him another couple decades, and maybe he would. But not now.
She huffed out an unamused-sounding laugh. “I can’t, Lucas. You’re a kid, with a young, healthy body, and you wouldn’t understand the sort of limitations I have.”
“Then tell me, Assistant Principal Dunn.” Across the net, he stalked closer to her. One step, then two. “What are they? Because I get the feeling there’s a long, long list.”
Thick sarcasm suffused every word from his mouth, and she almost slapped him.
Asshole. He had absolutely no right to look at her with those thick brows drawn together and those green eyes snapping with anger. No right to imply her limitations were more than physical. No right to dismiss her pain with such evident contempt.
