Yield to Me

by Sarah Castille

  Totally inappropriate. He was here as a coach and a teacher. Reid had brought him in to help Excelsior’s fighters overcome the psychological barriers that were holding them back. With his background as a fighter and his experience as a psychologist, he had carved out a niche in the MMA coaching world that put his services in high demand. Reid had booked him over a year ago, and Jax’s waiting list had doubled since then.

  “You toe the party line or you walk,” Reid called out to her, his voice carrying over the drum roll of speed bags, the slam of bodies on the mats, and the clank of weights. “I paid a lot of money to bring Jax to Seattle. The least you can do is to give him a chance.”

  Seemingly unembarrassed by Reid’s indiscreet rebuke, Marcy shrugged. Then she turned and walked away.

  Jax’s lips quivered with a repressed smile. Marcy wasn’t going to be pushed into doing anything she didn’t want to do. Maybe she needed time to cool off. Reid clearly hadn’t been forthcoming about his arrival. Still, in the brief time he’d spent with her, she’d come across as ambitious and determined. Why wouldn’t she be interested in overcoming her issue with submission?

  “You think she’ll be back?” He looked over at a frowning Reid.

  “I have no fucking idea.” Reid scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know what just happened there. Maybe she didn’t take on board the extent of your involvement when I mentioned to the team you were coming. You’re the psychologist. What do you think?”

  From her guarded reaction and the speed with which she’d turned down his offer of assistance, he thought she was afraid of something, but he wasn’t about to tell Reid. “Hard to say. I’ve only just met her. But maybe the ultimatum wasn’t a good idea.”

  Reid bristled. “My club. My team. My rules. She knows how I run things. Never been a problem before.”

  “You know her best.”

  “I’ll talk to her.” Reid pulled open the ropes and stepped out of the ring. “It took me a long time to convince her she has what it takes to be a fighter and even longer to convince her to train seriously. But she’s good. Damn good. If she can just get over this one issue, I think she has what it takes to go pro.”

  From the fights he’d watched on DVD, Jax agreed. And he could help her achieve that goal. He’d just have to lock away the feelings she roused in him, the emotion that had surfaced when she’d responded to his touch. He was a professional, and he would keep it professional, no matter how beguiling she might be. And then he’d move on, as he always did. The psychologist in him acknowledged he was deep into avoidance and still running away. But in the end, he was just a man with a broken heart, trying to make it through each day.

  Chapter Two

  “How’s my favorite fighter and soon-to-be state champ?” Val Rosario, the assistant manager of Callaghan & Sons Sporting Goods, waved from the till as Marcy entered the store, ready for her afternoon shift. The Callaghan brothers had recently relocated the store to South Lake Union, only a few blocks away from Club Excelsior, and Marcy planned to follow as soon as she could save up enough money to rent an apartment in the area.

  “Wishing you weren’t on holiday the other day when I needed someone to talk to.” Marcy mocked a frown as she shrugged off her coat. Val had been the Callaghan brothers’ first hire. She knew everything about every piece of sporting equipment the store stocked. She also made it her business to know everything about the three Callaghan brothers who owned the store and the gym where they trained. Not that Val had ever been to the gym, but she was a fight fan and always stayed on top of the gossip.

  “You should have come with me.” Val stretched out her long arms to show off her tan. Tall and slim, with dark hair and warm, brown eyes, she already looked exotic, but the tan made her already-golden skin radiant. Marcy felt a twinge of regret at her decision not to join Val and their friends on an impromptu spring holiday to get away from the Seattle rain, but vacations were no fun when she couldn’t drink and her menu choices were limited to protein and steamed veg so she could make weight at the upcoming event.

  “I know.”

  “Nothing beats the Mexican Riviera for a low-cost, high-sun, hot-guy holiday.”

  Marcy’s eyes widened. “You met some hot guys? Hotter than Brad?” Marcy and Val had become fast friends her first day on the job after they’d spent an afternoon drooling over the three Callaghan brothers as they put up new shelving. Val had given her a lecture about how to keep the Callaghan brothers in their place and then asked Marcy to choose which of the three bachelors she would take to bed (or two, if she was that way inclined).

  Marcy had picked Reid, although Brad, the youngest brother, was more to her taste, with his mop of blond hair and a glint in his eye that suggested he’d been the hell-raiser of the family. But she’d seen the way Val watched him, and she hadn’t wanted to upset her new friend. The oldest brother, Zack, the store manager, was out of the running. Tall and heavily built with a shaved head, a gruff voice, and a fierce scowl, he was intimidating even for a woman not easily cowed.

  Val’s shoulders sagged. “No one is hotter than Brad. And one day he’ll dump that nasty piece of work he’s been dating and realize what he’s been looking for has been under his nose for years. But I did find a twosome who live in Oakland, Phil and Jack. I’ve set us up for Saturday night.” She licked her lips and smiled. “Of course, I sampled the goods first. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Laughter bubbled in Marcy’s chest. Val was still on a mission to find her a man. Especially after Marcy had revealed she dated only casually and hadn’t had a serious relationship for years. As a result, every few weeks, Marcy would be ambushed by yet another of Val’s prospects as she stocked the shelves, and an awkward conversation would ensue with a man who was clearly not interested in camping gear, fight equipment, or baseball gloves.

  “Tempting as it is to share your sloppy seconds times two, I’ll have to pass,” Marcy said. “Reid kicked me out of Excelsior, and I need to find a new place to train. I’ve got an event coming up—”

  “Whoa.” Val frowned. “Reid kicked you out? Reid, who can’t take his eyes off you and tells everyone you’re the next Ronda Rousey?”

  Marcy’s cheeks heated, and she grabbed her apron and joined Val behind the counter. “Yeah, well, he hired a hot new fight coach to get the team ready for the state championships, and the guy, Jax, he’s just…”

  “Hot?” Val tied Marcy’s red apron around her waist and finished it off with a giant bow.

  “Very.”

  “And that’s a problem?” She spun Marcy around and handed her a pricing gun, then gestured toward the stock room, where Zack would, no doubt, be waiting for her with his usual scowl.

  “He made me uncomfortable.” Marcy sucked in her lips and took a quick look around to make sure Zack wasn’t within earshot. “I couldn’t focus on the training. He handled me like a doll, lifting me, turning me, putting me on top of him. I had no control, and I’m not weak by any means. I could move only when he let me move. Even when I’m practicing with the fighters, they hold back. Jax didn’t. I’ve never been in that position before.” But she’d dreamt about it. Fantasized about a man who could totally and utterly take control. Shared her desires with Preston only to have them thrown in her face.

  The front door opened, and Marcy smiled when two fighters from Club Excelsior walked into the store. Although Callaghan’s sold a wide variety of sporting equipment, Excelsior’s fighters were their biggest customers.

  Marcy waved them toward the back of the store. “Fight equipment. Aisle six.”

  Val waited until the fighters had disappeared down the aisle, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “So, what happened?”

  “Reid said I had to train with Jax or leave. So I left.” She feigned nonchalance although inside she was still reeling. Reid had called her in the morning, and when she hadn’t been able to give him a good explanation why she didn’t want to train with Jax, he had exploded and reiterated the ultimatum. She coul
dn’t understand why he was being so difficult. In the end, it was her career. Sure, it helped to be part of a team, but when she stepped into the ring, it was her fight. Her win. Her loss.

  Val shook her head. “You’re both stubborn as mules. No wonder you two never got together. You can’t leave the club. That club is your life. Your friends are there. Your fledgling fight career is there. And I can guarantee Reid doesn’t really want you to leave. You know what he’s like when he’s backed into a corner.”

  Marcy shook her head. “It’s not just that. There’s something else going on with Reid. He wants me to train with Jax so badly I wonder if there’s something he’s not telling me about my fighting.” Like she wasn’t cut out for it, or that she’d never make it without serious help. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Despite all her hard work, she would still be the failure her family had always thought she was.

  “Nah.” Val tied up her long, dark hair in a quick ponytail and then picked up her pricing gun. “Reid’s straight up. He’ll tell you what he’s thinking even if you don’t want to hear it. I’ll bet by tonight he’ll tell you he’s sorry and wants you back in the club.”

  “I’ve never heard him say sorry.”

  Val’s smile faded, and she turned away, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. “I have.”

  A steady stream of customers kept them busy until midafternoon. When they finally got a break, Val went to the storeroom to check the new deliveries, and Marcy returned to the mind-numbing task of pricing a shipment of baseball gloves. Five years ago, working at the sporting goods store had seemed a good way to indulge her love of sports and show her parents she wasn’t interested in a Wall Street career. But now that the novelty had worn off and she was effectively estranged from her family, she often found herself longing for something more.

  “Marcy.”

  She spun around and then froze when she recognized Jax in the doorway. Swallowing hard, she slapped a sticker on a glove and tried to play it cool, as if the sound of his voice didn’t make her body heat in an instant, or as if she hadn’t been up most of the night fantasizing about what would have happened if they’d been alone in the ring.

  “Hey, Jax.” Her voice rose in pitch despite her best attempts to keep it level. “You looking for some equipment?”

  His eyes roved over her body, and she stiffened and cleared her throat. Jax met her gaze, amusement in his eyes. “Never seen you in regular clothes. Marcy without the armor. Soft and sweet.”

  Burn, cheeks. Burn. “Never seen you in regular clothes, either. You look … good.”

  Now there was an understatement. With his gray Club Excelsior T-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest and his jeans hugging his narrow hips, he was beyond mouth-watering. Good thing she’d already had lunch.

  Flustered, she twisted her ponytail around her finger. “So, what are you looking for?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about coming back to the club and training with me if I can get Reid to back down on his ultimatum.”

  Marcy snorted and slapped a tag on another glove. “Won’t happen.”

  “One of you has to back down.” His voice dropped, and he covered her free hand with his own. The pricing gun fell to the counter, and she looked up and lost herself for the briefest moment in the depth of his warm brown eyes.

  “Not me.”

  He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, sending bolts of white lightning zinging to her core.

  “Why are you so adverse to training with me?”

  His touch, the scent of his cologne, the deep rumble of his voice, and the heat emanating from his perfect body all converged in a rush of sensation that fuzzed her brain and allowed the truth to slip from her lips before she could catch it. “Because of this.”

  Jax stilled, his face smoothing into an expressionless mask. “You like my touch?”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. “I just think it would be difficult to train with you and…” She bit her lip, unused to being so candid about her feelings, especially with someone she barely knew. “Stay focused.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I had that problem, too.”

  Marcy’s head jerked up. “So you agree. Maybe if you tell Reid you think—”

  “No, I don’t agree,” he said, cutting her off. “I think I can help you with your training. But maybe we should talk about finding a way around what seems to be a mutual attraction.”

  Oh god. He’d just thrown it out there. Good to know her feelings weren’t one-sided, but she’d never met anyone who just laid it on the line. No coy gestures or subtle glances. No wondering what he thought. He’d laid his hand on the table, and now it was her turn to play.

  “I’m at work.” She cringed as soon as the inane words left her lips. He knew she was at work. She was pricing gloves behind the counter with a big red Callaghan’s Sporting Goods apron tied around her waist.

  Jax’s eyes glittered, amused. “After work then. What time do you get off?”

  “Six.”

  “I’ll pick you up at six, and we’ll go for dinner.” A statement, not a question, but she liked the way he took control. Maybe too much.

  “Okay.”

  “I also need to pick up some equipment.” He smiled, and his face softened. “I had more than one reason to come here today.”

  Marcy’s tension eased. “What are you looking for?”

  “Tape, a mouth guard, practice gloves, and a cup.”

  For a long moment, she forgot to breathe. Oh god no. No images of cups and where they might go. No thoughts of Jax’s cup digging into her ass when she sat astride him in the ring.

  Swallowing hard, she pointed behind him. “Aisle six.”

  “You want to take this customer, Marcy? I’ll handle the till.” Val appeared out of nowhere, swooping down on them with a smirk that left Marcy in no doubt she’d been eavesdropping on their conversation.

  “Um…” Marcy looked over at the two fighters behind Jax, waiting to pay. “I have other customers.”

  Ignoring Marcy’s pointed glare, Val waved Marcy away from the counter. “I’ll handle them. You go ahead. Take him where he needs to go. Show him the goods.” She winked, and Marcy resolved never to speak to her betraying friend again.

  “Aisle six, isn’t it?” Jax gave her a warm smile. “You can talk me through the products, and we can finish our conversation.”

  With a defeated sigh and a last irritated glance at Val, she tossed the pricing gun on the counter. “Fine. Follow me.”

  Two agonizing minutes of Jax’s eyes boring into her back later, they arrived at aisle six. Marcy led Jax past the grapple dummies and punch bags to the men’s clothing section. Fight shorts hung in neat rows along the wall, and packaged cups filled the shelves.

  “Here they are.” She waved her hand over the display and tried not to think of where Jax might place a cup and what might go in it. “In the shorts or out?” Most of the male fighters she knew preferred bike-style compression shorts with a built-in pouch for a cup, but some still preferred the extra protection afforded by a full groin protector.

  “I don’t know. How rough are you planning to be with me? Last time, I had a narrow escape.”

  She looked at him aghast. “You weren’t … wearing anything?”

  Jax captured her with his gaze, and his voice dropped husky and low. “Don’t usually need it when I’m coaching, but with you…”

  Her cheeks flushed red. “Um, since I’m not planning on making any … direct contact, I’d recommend the fight-short style.”

  “You’re embarrassed.” He raised an eyebrow, and his lips twitched with a smile. “Haven’t you sold cups to your friends before?”

  Get a grip. Marcy willed the flush out of her cheeks, breathing in the comforting scent of plastic and latex and a faint whiff of leather. “Sure. All the time.”

  He closed the distance between them and stroked a finger over the apple of her burning cheek. “So why are y
ou blushing?”

  She met his curious gaze. “They weren’t … you know … my coach.”

  “What’s wrong with your coach?”

  He was so close now she could feel the heat of his body through her clothes. God, he was sexy. Too sexy. The kind of sexy that usually sent her running out the door.

  “Nothing.” Her voice came out in a whisper.

  “Wrong.” He cupped her cheek, tracing along the curve of her jaw with his thumb, burning a trail across her skin, his gaze intent, focused. “I came to set things right between you and Reid and convince you to train with me, and yet somehow I wound up asking you out for dinner. But dinner isn’t really what I want.”

  “We don’t have to—”

  Jax leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear. “I want you, Marcy. Like no one I’ve ever wanted before. It makes no sense since we’ve only spent a few hours together, and I’m mindful of my responsibilities as a coach. But I won’t pretend I didn’t feel something when we were on the mats last night. Something I want to explore with you.”

  Marcy’s breath caught in her throat as adrenaline surged through her veins. He just assumed she felt the same, expected she would want to explore their explosive sexual chemistry, too. And he was right. Six o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

  His lips slid over her cheek, and then his mouth touched hers, light as a feather but with the impact of one of Two Step’s signature punches.

  “Later.”

  Her breath left her in a rush, and although she knew she should pull away, she leaned up to kiss him back. But she was a second too late.

  “Got a bunch of customers up front who need some help.” Val’s voice cut through the stillness as she leaned against the shelf at the end of the aisle. Her gaze flicked to Jax and then back to Marcy. “’Course, I could always handle them myself.”

  “No, we’re done here.” Marcy pushed past Jax and headed down the aisle, struggling to steady her senses.