Knightless in Seattle by Jill Jaynes Read Free Book Online

engagement or resistance he would need to deal with.
Judging from the responses ranging from cringing to eye-rolling, he
would have his work cut out for him.
    Oblivious to the reactions of his staff, Fred plowed on.
    "You're going to conquer your deadlines, conquer your obstacles." He jabbed his finger in the air for
emphasis. "Don't let some city employee keep you on hold about
zoning or permits. Convince your clients they want that
bigger development.
    "Wait a minute." His brow furrowed as he looked around the
room. He zeroed in on Jackie. "What did you do with the conference
table?"
    "It's in your office," she said, and frowned back. "You told
me to clear out this room. I didn't realize I was going to have to move
that thing in pieces, but I got it done. Why?"
    "Are you telling me--" Fred spoke in a low, dangerous voice,
the emphasis on each word like a fist pounding on a table. "You
dismantled my twenty-thousand-dollar, custom-made, Brazilian
rosewood table and moved it into my office ?" A dull flush
climbed into his face.
    Lance felt the anxiety level in the room go up several
notches. People shifted from foot to foot, exchanging apprehensive
glances.
    "Your table is fine," Jackie explained in a patient tone. "I
wrapped each piece in a moving blanket, so it is totally protected.
And your office was the only place big enough to put it. I'll put
everything back just the way it was when we are done today."
    Lance tamped down growing irritation as he watched the
exchange. Protective instincts he didn't know he possessed urged
him to grab the douchebag by the throat and choke some manners
into him. He mentally counted to five. He had to hand it to Jackie, she
kept her cool like a pro.
    Fred closed his eyes and dramatically took several deep
breaths, inhaling through his nose, and then blowing out through his
mouth in a parody of yoga-like control.
    Lance wondered how often he bothered. Fortunately for
him, Jackie's boss managed to find enough self-control to drop the
subject for the moment.
    "Fine," he said, and rolled his shoulders in an exaggerated
gesture of forced relaxation. "But you and I are going to have a
serious talk later about following simple instructions." Turning his
attention back to the group, he clapped his hands. "Okay people, let's
get started. I'm going to turn things over to our guest, Lance
Masters."
    Lance glanced at Jackie as he stepped past her to take Fred's
place in the center of the room. The confused hurt on her face made
him want to kill something, or at least beat it to a pulp. Preferably
Fred.
    "Good morning, everyone." Lance reminded himself that he
was here to teach a class. He would straighten out Jackie's boss later
on his own time. "My name is Lance and I'm a certified instructor in
European Martial Arts, which is basically the art of fighting as
practiced by the European knights of the Holy Roman Empire. Today
we're going to do a little team-building by learning some basic attack
and defense techniques using a short blade, or dagger." He held up a
fourteen-inch, double-edged knife made from a darkened metal, very
pointed and very sharp-looking.
    And just like that, he had everyone's complete
attention.
    "Wow, that is not what I would call a short blade,"
Henry said. "Are you sure about this?"
    Lance chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll only get foam blades to
practice with."
    Murmurs of relief rippled through the group.
    This was Lance's favorite part of his job, teaching. It had
long ago become a luxury, since most of his time was sucked up with
the business end of starting, building up, and then selling a series of
successful studios. Now that he was free of all of them, he had been
taking a little time to think about what he wanted to do next.
    The obvious answer hit him now, smack between the eyes,
as he stood in the middle of a Seattle conference room covered in red
floor mats, and looking at the beautiful woman watching him with
her heart in her eyes. He knew exactly what he wanted, and