by Pat White
The desperation in his voice touched her heart. She leaned across his desk. “Why is this so important to you?”
He reached for her hand. This time she gave it willingly.
“They said I’d never amount to much,” he started. “And maybe they’re right. But I can’t give up. Not yet. I have to prove—”
The door burst open.
“You can’t go in there!” Cecilia the secretary shouted.
Uncle Joe snatched his hands from Frankie’s and stood, righting his polyester suit jacket. She glanced over her shoulder and her breath caught at the sight of Jack, naked from the waist up, his body glistening with sweat. He wore nothing but skin-tight spandex shorts, athletic shoes, and workout gloves with the tips cut off. Strands of wet hair had come loose from his ponytail and clung to his shoulders.
“Jack, what can we do for you?” Uncle Joe asked, his voice as slick as a salesman’s.
He planted his hands on his hips, defining his well-muscled chest. “Where the hell is she?”
“She, who?”
“Don’t play games, Sully. I finished my workout twenty minutes ago. Tiger Lady was supposed to meet me in the ring to go over some moves.”
“Well, um, we’ve run into a problem.” Uncle Joe ambled toward him.
Frankie couldn’t move if her life depended on it. Between her uncle’s uncharacteristic and sincere confession a second ago, and Jack’s magnificent body, her bearings were shot to hell.
“I’ve got a little over a week to train her. I’m going back in the ring in ten days, not twenty-one. I need to work off some of this steam I seem to have built up.” He eyed Frankie.
She dug her nails into the arms of the chair. Giving him a tight promotional schedule next week was her way of letting him know who was in charge. Instead he’d chosen to jump into the ring sooner than he should.
She thought he would enjoy meeting with fans, signing autographs and playing hero. Instead he wanted back into the action with Tatianna by his side. Could she find a replacement in a week? How about thirty seconds? Because this man looked like he fully expected Tatianna to walk through that door.
“Jack, calm down. We’ve had some problems,” Uncle Joe reiterated, placing his hand on Jack’s bare shoulder. Jack glared at Uncle Joe’s fingers and he snatched his hand back. With an irritated breath, Jack paced to the window overlooking the arena.
She couldn’t take her eyes off Jack’s incredible chest, his firm pectoral muscles and a hard stomach that looked like it had been sculpted by God’s hands. Not a washboard tummy, she thought, remembering the cover of Bradley’s “Ten Minutes to a Tighter Tummy” video. No, Jack’s stomach was thick and muscular and lightly dusted with dark hair that disappeared below his waistline.
“It’s always something with you, Sully, an angle, a manipulation. I told you my terms, and you agreed to them. Frank, here, witnessed the discussion. So, what’s it going to be?”
She tore her gaze from Jack’s sleek, sweaty body and glanced at her uncle. His shoulders sagged with an incredible sigh, as if the world was crumbling before his eyes.
“Tatianna’s not coming,” Uncle Joe said.
“What are you talking about?”
Uncle Joe glanced at Frankie. Her stomach lurched at the look in his eyes, the look of defeat.
“The truth of the matter is—”
“She had car trouble.” Frankie jumped to her feet and faced Jack. “She’ll be here within the hour.”
“What?” Uncle Joe said.
“I forgot to tell you. We were so wrapped up in business.”
“But Frankie—”
“She’ll be here.” She glanced at Uncle Joe. “Everything will be fine.”
Grabbing the plastic bag, she marched toward Jack who was blocking the doorway. She focused on her breathing technique to quell the heat wave that washed over her whenever she got within ten feet of him. Could she survive being so close to this impossibly sexy man? She had to, for Uncle Joe, bikini or no bikini.
“I hope she doesn’t come dressed in that ridiculous costume of hers,” Jack said, pulling off a glove.
“I’m sure she knows the appropriate way to dress for a workout.” She hadn’t a clue. Better flag down Maxine on her way to get her head examined.
She sauntered past him, but he grabbed her arm. Staring at his partially gloved hand she marveled that his touch didn’t pinch or squeeze. How could such a large man be so gentle?
Then she glanced into his devilish green eyes.
“I’ll hang around for a half hour,” he said. “Oh, and thanks, Frank.”
“For what?”
“For giving me such a light promotional schedule next week.”
His sarcasm hit her dead center. “It’s the least I could do,” she said.
“I’m sure Tiger Lady will be real happy to know she’s booked for a different town each day for the next week.”
“Tiger Lady?”
“Where I go, she goes. Kaneville, Plumtowne, Sterling Falls. Tiger Lady and I are partners which makes us inseparable.”
Heavens! When she’d convinced the PR department to boost Jack’s schedule, she’d meant to get him out of her hair and teach him not to mess with her. It seemed in the process she’d messed with herself. Big time.
“I don’t know that Tatianna can make all those dates,” she said with a nonchalant lift of her chin.
“I’m sure you’ll work it out. You have a way with people.”
A fantastic grin lit up his face, showing off a slight dimple in his left cheek.
“Send Tiger Lady down to the ring. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do if I’m going to train her by the day after tomorrow.”
“Train her to sign autographs? I’m sure she can figure that out.”
“Not autographs, sweetheart. She’s got to learn some of the moves if we’re going to step into the ring together.”
“Moves—right.” She picked a speck of lint off her gray blazer. Next he’d be telling her she had to take a course in grunting.
“Why do I get the feeling you still don’t respect this business?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She narrowed her eyes in challenge.
“I mean...” He took a step toward her and she automatically backed into the wall, knocking Uncle Joe’s golf clubs on the floor.
A five iron would make a good weapon right about now. She couldn’t take her eyes off the man long enough to grab a club. His dark green, penetrating gaze pinned her in place.
“You act like we’re the scum of the earth and you’re the queen of England,” he said.
“I happen to take pride in things that are real, genuine, and serve a purpose, Mr. Hudson. Wrestling doesn’t fit into any of those categories.”
His eyes blazed fire. “Pick me up.”
“Excuse me?”
She watched him swallow, and her blood pressure jumped. Goodness, even the man’s Adam’s apple was a turn on.
“Pick me up,” he repeated.
“I...I can’t.”
“Why not?” His voice carried a ragged edge.
Was he feeling the same heat that set her nerves a skitter?
“I’m not strong enough to pick you up,” she said.
“But Frank, wrestling’s fake, remember? Smoke and mirrors. You should be able to pick me up with one finger, maybe two.”
He placed Frankie’s hands on his waist. Her fingers burned at the contact of his slick, warm skin.
“Come on, Frank. Give it a shot.”
She wanted to take a shot all right. She wanted to take a shot at tasting those incredible lips, running her fingers across every muscle, every curve of his amazing chest.
“Can’t do it, can you?” he taunted.
Had he read her mind?
His smile faded, and he took a step back. She snapped her arms against her sides.
“That’s lesson number one,” he said. “I really pick up three-hundred-pound men for a living. I really get hit wi
th chairs, fall off fifteen-foot cages onto tables, and fly out of the ring onto the cement floor. I’d be happy to demonstrate if you’d like to join me in the ring.”
It was all a game, a way to make her look small and foolish. He didn’t feel the heat, the desire bubbling beneath the surface. It was all business to him, a way to make his point.
And she’d been drawn in like a naive schoolgirl.
“I get the picture,” she said.
“Good. I’ll be waiting downstairs for Tiger Lady.” He pulled off a glove with his teeth, his eyes intent on Frankie.
Heat shot to every fiber, every nerve ending of her body against her will. He might be an empty-brained wrestler, but she had to give him an A-plus in the animal magnetism department. The man knew exactly how to use his power and she had a feeling he planned to use it on her, or Tatianna, or…oh, crap, she was getting confused.
He shot her one last victorious smile, ambled across the office, and slammed the door. She slid down the wall into a heap on the floor.
“Get Maxine up here,” she said.
“You don’t have to do it.” Uncle Joe sat beside her. “I know how uncomfortable you are with all this.”
“You need me and I refuse to be intimidated by that man. Now get her up here before I come to my senses and abandon you for good.”
***
“Again!” he said, running toward Marco. The kid swung his forearm and Jack fell backward, slamming against the mat. He sprung back to his feet.
“Three to the midsection,” Jack ordered. The kid delivered three open-fisted punches and Jack’s body jerked in response.
“Irish whip to the turnbuckle and pummel me with kicks.”
He was asking for it today. He shouldn’t even be here and everyone knew it. But that scene with Niece Sullivan set his gut ablaze with an overwhelming urge to do some serious damage to something. He needed to exorcise his demons.
Jack slid down the corner ropes and Marco nailed him twice with his boot, flattening him to the mat. Jack played possum, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to figure out why he had so much trouble shaking free of this damn business.
“You okay?” Marco asked.
“Wonderful. Give me a minute.”
The fluorescent ceiling lights burned bright, and Jack wished it were the sun shining down on him. What he wouldn’t give to be sucking down umbrella drinks on a deserted beach or riding a playful Appaloosa into the Rockies. He’d give anything to be someplace else. Someplace far away from Ms. Frankie McGee.
With a little luck he’d be out of here, starting his new life sooner rather than later. The inexperienced Tiger Lady would ruin the story line and he’d go about his merry way without turning heel. All would be right with the world.
Unfortunately, there was something very wrong about that scene that just played out in Sully’s office. If only the niece hadn’t touched him. He closed his eyes and ran his hand across his face. A myriad of blues, greens, and yellows filled his vision—Frankie’s eyes. He wondered why she didn’t wear contacts, why she wore the protective shield of thick-rimmed glasses. Then again, he wouldn’t want her to change that incredible color. She had striking, iridescent eyes, big and round…and burning with need.
“Dammit!” He pounded a closed fist on the mat.
“Don’t look now, but your woman’s coming,” Marco said.
Perfect. Just what he needed when his brain was scrambled like a carton of eggs.
Catcalls announced Tiger Lady’s entrance into the gym.
“Come on down, baby,” Nick called.
“Wooooeeee!” Luther howled. “Look at those legs.”
“I like the set of lungs myself,” the Basher said.
He could only guess what Tiger Lady was wearing today. He draped his arm over his eyes, giving himself another second or two of peace. Who was he kidding? Frankie had shot that to hell.
“Are you okay?” a soft voice said. He opened his eyes and spied Tiger Lady, mask and all, standing over him.
“What’s with the mask?” he said, trying not to gawk at the voluptuous body hugged by a skin-tight, black leotard with gold trim.
“I always wear the mask.”
“Always?”
“Almost always.”
She grinned and he found himself smiling back. It would be nice to work with someone who had a sense of humor. Then he remembered last night’s assault, the injury and his losing the belt. In one swift motion he jackknifed and slid under the bottom rope out of the ring. She took three steps back. He grabbed her by the arms to prevent her from tripping over a 200-pound barbell.
“You really messed me up last night,” he said.
“I’m sorry.” She blinked those cornflower blue eyes and he found himself believing her.
Remember your goal. Teach her to screw up so you can get out of this hellhole.
A great plan if they were alone. Unfortunately, a crowd of wrestlers was gathering. Word must have gotten out that Jack was taking on a partner, something he’d successfully avoided for the past nineteen years.
“We don’t have a lot of time. Sullivan’s witch niece has scheduled us for a whirlwind tour of the Midwest. We go the day after tomorrow.”
“You don’t like her very much.”
“What’s to like?” Other than those incredible eyes, uptight little attitude, and peaches-and-cream skin that probably tasted even better than it looked.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and led her up the steps to the ring. She stumbled. “Take those spiked heels off.”
“I need to practice in them so I don’t keep tripping over my own feet.”
“Whatever.” He held the ropes open for her and she stepped inside the squared circle.
“Teach her a Bulldog!” Teddy shouted.
“Teach her to sell,” Luther added.
“Show her a clothesline,” Marco said with a hearty chuckle.
“No one said anything about doing laundry,” Tiger Lady said, confusion coloring her eyes.
“Man, you are green, aren’t you?” he muttered, almost feeling sorry for her. Talk about being out of her league. He reached for her wrist and she stepped back.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Sheesh, why were the women in his life so jumpy around him? First Frank, then the Tiger Lady. Had Marco been spreading rumors?
“Here.” He got behind her and raised her arm at a right angle. “You swing at my chest like this.” He moved it backward, then forward.
She seemed softer today, more normal. Her scent teased his nostrils. Different today, more subtle although he couldn’t quite make it out.
“Keep your arm right there.” He stepped in front of her. “Okay, now whack me across the chest.”
“But I’ll hurt you.”
“I doubt it.”
Her eyes flared and she swung. He fell flat to the mat, and she stared down at him in wonder.
“Clothesline,” he said, getting to his feet.
“I did that?” Her eyes grew wide.
“We did that. It’s a partnership. Don’t worry, you won’t be doing much inside the ring, but I wanted you to become familiar with some of the moves.”
He glanced up and spied Sully watching from his office. Good. He wanted Sully to see him working with Tiger Lady, training her, showing her how to be a superb partner. That way no one could accuse him of self-sabotage when she screwed up and ruined the angle.
“Your job is to distract the ref when I’m being taken down,” he explained to her.
“Distract him how?”
“Use your womanly powers to stop the three count.”
She pursed her lips. “Isn’t that cheating?”
“All’s fair in love and wrestling.” If only that were true. “You’re also supposed to nail my opponent while I’m keeping the ref occupied.”
“More cheating?”
“Fans are very forgiving when the face is doing the cheating.”
“The face?”
“Baby f
ace, hero, good guy.”
“Oooohhhh.”
He rolled out of the ring and reached up for her. She hesitated. “Come on, you’re giving me a complex. I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She stepped through the ropes and lost her footing, falling into his arms. Hesitating before placing her on the floor, his eyes caught on her lips. Such beautiful lips, perfectly shaped and ruby red. He bet they tasted like—
“You can put me down now,” she said.
“Right.” What the hell was the matter with him?
He steadied her and turned to Marco. “Get over here.” The kid actually looked scared, as if he thought Jack was going to rip into him.
“Get in the ring and hang your head over the side.”
The kid did as ordered. Jack turned to Tiger Lady. “If you catch my opponent in this position, you nail him in the neck, got it?”
“Nail him?”
“Here.” He reached for her gloved fist, and this time she didn’t pull away. “An open fist.” He loosely curled her fingers. “Not to be confused with a closed fist.” He curled her fingers tight into her palm. “We use open fists and barely make contact. That way nobody gets hurt, most of the time anyway.”
She nodded.
“Like this.” He nailed Marco, and the kid jerked in mock pain.
“You said an open fist doesn’t hurt.”
“Marco does a good sell, don’t you, Marco?”
The kid winked, and she smiled back. Jack had a sudden urge to step between them.
“Okay, you try,” Jack encouraged.
She punched Marco and he jerked on cue.
“Ah!” she cried, stumbling back and falling into Teddy’s lap. The Basher let loose a hearty laugh.
“You can’t be afraid to hurt the opponent. It’s gotta look real,” Jack said, reaching for her.
She cocked her head in question and he smiled to himself. He could already smell the mountain air, picturing himself sitting by the fire in his dream cabin on a cold winter’s night.
As he pulled her off Teddy’s lap, a loud bang echoed across the gym. He glanced up at Sullivan’s office. The promoter’s face was plastered to the glass, his palms flattened, his eyes bugging out of his head.
