"You need a sparring partner?" he finally asked.
"Yeah, see . . ." She looked down at her gloves, then back up at him. "I don't really condone beating on another person. Even if it's just for sport."
"Then you must hate football and hockey."
"I'm more of an ice dancing kind of girl. But it was nice of you to stop by and offer." Refocusing on her workout, she turned her back to him and planted her foot solidly into the bag.
After several uppercuts and sidekicks, the sensation of being watched tickled the back of her neck. She dared a peek over her shoulder and . . . yep, he was still standing there, head slightly tilted like he was trying to figure something out.
"Is there something else I can help you with?" she asked.
"Hopefully." He folded his arms and his biceps bulged. "How invested in my sister's situation are you?"
"Very." Hadn't she already made that point?
"I hate to ask, but I've hit a roadblock and I could really use some extra help where she's concerned. Maybe we could go out for coffee."
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea." An understatement, to be sure.
"Because?"
"Because . . . I'm your sister's teacher and socializing with her relatives is frowned on."
"That's not really the reason why." He took a step closer, and she wondered how the man could smell so good all the time. "Is it?"
"You're right." She planted her gloves on the hips of her workout pants. "I don't like coffee."
"Then how about a drink?" The two steps he took brought him even closer, and she realized she'd have to be blindfolded not to be affected by his heart-­stopping looks.
"After a workout it's best to consume electrolytes, not alcohol." She let her eyes roam his big, strong body. "But from the looks of you I'm sure you already know that."
"Is that a compliment?"
"If you need one, then yes, I guess it is."
"Then I'll say thank you."
"You're welcome. And as much as I'd like to stand here and chat, I really need to get this workout done."
"Yeah. Sorry about that."
"No problem. Have a nice night."
He turned to leave, then just as his hand reached the door, he stopped and came back.
"Lucy? I'm really in a bind. And, no bullshit, I could really use some help. I've tried to talk to my brothers but they seem to be as clueless as me when it comes to our baby sister. I spoke with my sister and I really need a woman's take." A hesitant smile tipped the corners of his sensuous masculine lips. "I know nothing about teenage girls. And as much as I hate to admit it, you're also right about me not knowing much about my sister. I'd like to change that. I really do want to help her. I'm afraid if I don't act now . . ."
He shook his head, leaving the unsaid lingering in the air.
Lucy didn't want to feel anything for this man. But the sincerity in his eyes and the crinkles of concern in his forehead told her he really was perplexed on how to handle the problem. She was sure even seasoned parents had issues with their troubled teens, so an unmarried brother who had no experience would be even more at a loss.
"It means a lot to me that you want to help her," he said. "That you recognized a problem prior to the loss of our parents. I respect your insight and your opinion."
His unnerving gaze cut right to the core of why she'd become a teacher. She wanted to help students, the same as she had when she'd been a student herself. Education was the lifeline people used to propel themselves out into the world. Without it, they'd be at a standstill. Along with that, a little kindness and understanding never hurt.
Lucy cared about Nicole Kincade. Beneath her recent obstinacy, she was a bright girl. With the sudden loss of her parents, she was going through a tough time. So even if Jordan Kincade rattled her in ways she never imagined, now wasn't the moment for Lucy to turn her back.
While Jordan continued to look at her with something akin to defeat in his eyes, she caved like a soufflé.
"All right," she said. "How about tomorrow? Four-­thirty at The Muddy Cup? I can spare an hour before another appointment I have."
"I'd really appreciate that." With the sincerest of smiles, he turned and proved that some men looked good any way they chose to go.
That admission had Lucy slamming her gloves into the punching bag. She had no business looking at Jordan Kincade as anything other than a man she'd known from her past and the brother of a student in need.