Read Online Jonquils for Jax: The Rousseaus #1 (The Blueberry Lane Series Book 12) by Katy Regnery - Free Book Online Page B

smile, but she didn’t look at him, because instinct told her that if she did, he’d stop laughing and frown at her, and she liked the sound of his laugher way too much to imperil it. She savored the brief sound, finally turning to face him when he was silent again.
    “Well? Shall we get started?”
    His squinting eyes, still searching the room, cut to her face and focused. “Yeah. Okay.” He shrugged his shoulder and the duffel bag he was carrying slid down his arm. He caught the strap and lowered the bag the rest of the way to the ground.
    “What’s in there?”
    “Stuff we don’t need.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because you’ve got everythin’ I need right here.”
    She knew that he was talking about gym equipment. She knew that. But she couldn’t seem to keep herself from taking his words out of context for just a moment and trying them out in a different way in her head:
    …you’ve got everything I need right here.
    “Oh, merde ,” she whispered, sighing softly.
    “Duchess?” he prompted.
    “Hmm?” she asked, snapping her head up to look at him. She plastered a smile on her face and pushed her ponytail off her shoulder. “Yes. I’m ready. Let’s get to it!”
    He nodded, taking a deep breath and nailing her with a hard glare. “I’m going to teach you about the eyes today. Yours first, then your assailant’s. Now…what’s the first rule?”
    “Don’t ever look away.”
    “Right. Why not?”
    He had his feet spread apart and his hands on his hips. His sweat pants were a little big, but his plain white T-shirt was a little snug, fitting over his chest like a glove and highlighting the ridiculously defined ridges of muscle.
    Umm , she thought, we don’t look away because what we see is so hot?
    “ Jacqueline ?”
    And the way he said her name…it turned her insides to warm honey. She hid a whimper by clearing her throat. “Because…”
    “Because awareness is the first rule of avoidance. And avoidance is the name of the game.”
    She nodded. “Okay.”
    “You understand what I mean?”
    “I assume you mean that if you don’t put yourself into dangerous situations, you won’t need to defend yourself.”
    “Exactly,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “No checkin’ out Facebook on your phone in a parkin’ lot. No wearin’ headphones unless you’re safe at home in your bed. Make eye contact to show you’re unafraid. Be aware of your surroundin’s. Anyone who’s within three feet of your person is too close.”
    “Three feet,” she said, nodding.
    “Do you know how much that is?” he asked, uncrossing his arms.
    “From you to me?”
    “No. We’re five feet away from each other.” He took a step toward her. “Now we’re three feet apart. Extend your arm.” She did as he asked, her fingertips brushing his chest. “Your arm is approximately three feet long. Does that help you gauge things?”
    “I can’t go around with my arms spread wide all the time.”
    “Of course not. But look at me. Look at my eyes. Look how far apart we are. Remember this distance.”
    She looked into his eyes— again —but she was slightly more relaxed this time and paid closer attention. How funny , she thought. They’re asymmetrical, one slightly higher than the other. Stepping forward—approximately two feet from his person, which was, by his own definition, too close—she further noted that there was scar tissue on his face that she hadn’t noticed before. It looked like he’d had extremely bad acne concentrated around his eyes or had picked a bunch of chicken pox sores that had left small craters around his eyes and on his forehead, though something intuitive told her that neither of those reasons was right.
    “What happened?” she whispered, still staring deeply into his dark-brown eyes, cataloguing the strange asymmetry and the battered, pockmarked skin.
    He flinched, turning away from her. “Nothin’.”
    But if his body language told her anything, it told her that