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"Lots of tempting food."

"And not enough time to exercise."

She nods, her brown eyes sympathetic. She is fit in the way that few humans will ever be. With long, lean, sculpted legs, a stomach carved by hours of hard work and a strict diet, and shoulders that could probably carry me around, Synthia is a pure professional.

"Come on." She waves me to follow. "Let's hop in the boxing ring."

I nod, pulling my hair tie out and gathering up all the locks that escaped during my run, then refastening it as we head into the next room, where several boxing rings are lined up.

It's empty now but will fill soon. The gym opens in twenty minutes. They let me in early because I'm a big star meeting a world-famous trainer. There isn't one cell in my body that feels bad about that.

Synthia ducks under the ropes, and I follow. She passes me gloves, a mouth guard, and helmet. I fit them all on, the plastic of the mouth guard satisfying against my teeth.

Synthia’s eyes fall onto my shoulder, which has largely healed in the weeks since my return. "Something going on there?” she asks before putting in her own guard.

I give a small shrug and pull out my mouth guard to answer. “Had to have a mole removed.”

She gives a sympathetic nod.That’s normal.I slip my mouth guard back in and bite down. The lying comes easy.

We touch gloves and then begin our dance, circling each other, gloves up, eyes narrowed. Once again my heart starts to beat hard, my head clears out, and I feel weightless. Ready for anything.

Synthia lunges, surprising me with a kick that knocks me back, almost landing me on my ass. I catch myself, but she's still coming, a jab connects with my chin, knocking my head back. She's not playing today.

I get my hands up again but backpedal into the ropes, and she's on me, pummeling my stomach so that I have to drop my arms to shield my midriff. Synthia responds with an uppercut to the jaw, jangling my brain.

She punches my gut, and I curl over. Another uppercut and I'm on a freaking rollercoaster, her fists the track, my body the unwitting car.

I push off the ropes hard, forcing her backward, then roll to the side and flee to the opposite end of the ring. She stalks toward me. I lash out with a front kick, and Synthia pauses, just out of my reach. I retreat further, outpacing her. But she keeps on coming, like a lightning bolt determined to find me.

Once you've been struck by lightning, you're more likely to be struck again.

I wait for her to get closer then try another front kick. She blocks it and strikes out with one of her own. I jump back, just avoiding it.

My jaw and stomach are aching from her punches. I grip the mouthguard between my teeth and meet her hard gaze. Then I slow, letting her meet me in the middle of the ring. She jabs at me, testing the distance and my reaction.

I jab, then step forward into a cross punch, which she backs up to avoid. Taking advantage of my slight momentum, I crouch down and slide forward, coming up under her and landing an uppercut.

Yeah!

She stumbles but recovers fast, an elbow coming down on my injured shoulder. I spin away, throwing a body shot as I sidestep. She oofs out air at the impact. I step in close, striking with my other fist and creating the rhythm for a series of body blows.

Synthia kicks out, catching me in the knee so that it gives way, and suddenly I’m kneeling.

Her knee comes up, aiming right for my face, and I throw myself onto my back. She launches onto me.Crap, the woman is a judo freaking master.

Fresh sweat, clean soap and the musk of effort fills my sense as she covers me. Her arm wraps under my leg, trying to get me into a hold. I scoot away, inelegant and verging on desperate. Synthia has my leg, though. With a practiced strength, she flips me onto my front, leg pinned to my back. She leverages her weight so that my femur is at her mercy.

I strain for a moment, but she tightens her grip. She can break my leg.I lost.

Tapping the mat, I admit defeat.

Synthia immediately releases me and stands, offering her gloved hand while smiling around her mouth guard. “You’re too good at this,” I complain. It comes out garbled because of my guard, but Synthia laughs as I accept her help. The gym is filling up, voices and the dull thud of gloves meeting flesh echo in the cavernous room.

"Angela?" I turn toward the voice. Julian stands on the other side of the ropes. He's wearing workout gear—a pair of loose shorts and a T-shirt made of synthetic, moisture-wicking material that hangs off each well-defined muscle. His blue eyes are focused on me, hurt behind the lashes.

I’m such a dumbass. I've been avoiding him since we got back from Shanghai. I get my mouth guard out in a pile of spit.Ew, classy. Jesus, could this go any worse?"Hey," I say.Super lame.

He shifts slightly, looking almost nervous—to the extent a man that good-looking and assured can look nervous. "How have you been?"