Page 99 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“As you observed,” Libby began, returning to a standing position, “Pun-chi yoga incorporates elements of boxing and yoga. The practice can be either smooth, where one flows from pose to pose, or punctuated, akin to quick bursts of movement,” Libby explained, glancing away. He caught the hint of a blush on the apples of her cheeks—the seductive blush that sent his blood supply south.
“Were the quick bursts of motion what we saw on the viral video?” a reporter called out, and thoughts of raging hard-ons vanished from his mind.
Bollocks! They’d never discussed how they would address the viral video topic with the media.
Libby glanced over her shoulder at him, then clasped her hands in front of her. “Yes, I think we can all agree that the Pun-chi session viewed by many in the viral video motivated Erasmus Cress to move very, very quickly.”
That was a brilliant answer.
Cheeky but accurate.
“How about you, Lion? What are your thoughts on Pun-chi yoga?” a short gentleman in the front asked.
Raz came to Libby’s side. Every cell in his body wanted to reach out and touch her. But why? Why was there this incessant need to claim her—to let the world see… See what? She wasn’t his. He cleared his throat and kept his features neutral. “I’m getting used to Pun-chi yoga.”
“Do you think it’s something you’ll keep in your training regimen after the big fight?”
After the fight?
His mind couldn’t go there. “We’re keeping our options open.”
That was a bloody lie.
The PR word salad he’d regurgitated wasn’t the answer he wanted to give.
But he couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth about what he wanted.
“Will you be throwing other objects at the Beast?” another reporter called, blessedly taking the focus off him.
Libby looked up and caught his eye. “Only if he makes me mad,” she answered, and the press loved it. Every damn person on the property chuckled at her response as they hammered away on their devices and scribbled into notebooks.
“Like I said, PR gold,” Briggs said under his breath as he came up alongside them. “We’re going to wrap it up, but I do have dates and pertinent information, so listen closely,” the man announced.
Raz and Libby gave the man some space and walked over to where Sebastian, Augie, and Luanne stood on the porch.
Raz leaned in toward Libby. “Did you make all that up on the fly?”
She looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “I expanded on a game Sebastian and I came up with. But yes, I BS’ed my way through the demonstration.”
“What made you do the crazy upside-down move, plum?”
She bit her bottom lip as pure mischief glinted in those gorgeous amber eyes. “It worked on you, didn’t it?”
Sweet blooming Christ, it had.
“Final announcements,” Briggs continued, then glanced up at the dark clouds rolling in. “I’ll be quick, so no one gets caught in the storm. You should have received an email with the schedule of events with Erasmus Cress and Libby Lamb that line up with the Ass-in-Nine Festival in a few weeks. We’re raising funds for the town of Rickety Rock and several of the charities housed in the mountain town. Please share with your readers and viewers that one lucky person who donates will get to jump into the ring with the champ for some good old-fashioned boxing fun. We’re calling it Spar with the Beast, and Erasmus Cress’s team, along with the town, would be most grateful.”
“Did you know about that?” Libby whispered.
“No, but I’ve missed a few emails. You don’t mind, do you? I can tell Briggs to call it off if you do.”
“No, don’t do that. It’s for charity, and I’m sure the organizations will appreciate it. And I’ll get to see you in action.”
And there it was—that Libby Lamb smile that could light up the night sky.
“And don’t forget about my birthday, posh bloke. It’s coming up, too. I’ll be seven years old, and my friends Phoebe and Oscar say that if I stay in Colorado, I’ll be in second grade with them,” Sebastian called out to the delight of the press.
Raz stared at his son. He’d never seen the boy so happy.
