Harlequin Superromance March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Secrets of Her PastA Real Live HeroIn Her Corner

by EMILIE ROSE

  “What?”

  “Moreover, how are you going to feel knowing that from tomorrow, you’ll be answering to me and not him?”

  Sasha froze as his words filtered through her mind. What the hell did he just say? She uncrossed her arms and splayed her hands on her hips. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  A flicker of amusement lit his eyes before he blinked and they turned cold once more. “No joke. From tomorrow you’ll be reporting to me.”

  Panic and disbelief hurtled through her. Who the hell does this guy think he is? She huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think so. Who are you?”

  “Your new boss.”

  She grinned, hoping it would coerce some semblance of a smile to his lips and make him tell her he was kidding. “Very funny. You’re a funny guy, Mr.—”

  “You don’t believe me?” His face remained unnervingly impassive.

  Okay, enough was enough. “I asked you who you are. If you want to toss a revelation like that at me, the least you can do is tell me your name. Not that I’m likely to believe a word you say after this slightly creepy performance.”

  He uncrossed his arms and offered his hand, which she took without thinking. His hand enveloped hers. Warm, smooth and unnervingly large. Why did she have the sudden and unwelcome suspicion nothing about this guy was small or weak?

  “John Jordon.” He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  She stared into his eyes, her heart picking up speed. No, no, no. She swallowed in an effort to bring some saliva back into her desert-dry mouth. “Jordon? Are you telling me you’re Kyle’s son? His brother?”

  He smiled.

  She scowled as anger shot through her body with the speed of a freight train. Frustration and the enormity of what this meant turned her vision pink with rage. She slowly eased her hand from his and fisted her hair back from her face. “Well?”

  “I’m his son.”

  She closed her eyes, struggling to maintain her equilibrium and not freak out. “As far as I was aware Kyle doesn’t have a son or a brother.” She opened her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

  His gaze locked on hers for a moment before it shot toward the crowds of people walking around the fair, laughing and shouting without a care in the world. “I’m his son whether you want to believe it or not.” He met her eyes. “And I’ll be here running things for the foreseeable future. So the sooner we get acquainted, the better.”

  “Get acquainted?” She laughed as her shaky self-control snapped. “You have no idea, do you? No damn idea whatsoever.”

  The anger dissolved from his eyes and was replaced with wary confusion. “About what? This place?”

  “About everything. You need to go.”

  His brow furrowed as he stared. “That won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”

  Trembling, Sasha walked backward, opening the space between them. She shook her head. “You can’t do this. You can’t do this to me. Not now.”

  His frown deepened. “Do what?”

  She waved her hand at him. “Do this. Turn up here. Say these things. I won’t let you do this.”

  “Miss Todd—”

  “I’m leaving.” Her mind raced and her body felt strangely numb. “This isn’t happening.”

  He put his hand out as if to touch her, hesitated and then dropped it to his side. “Wait. Just wait.” The stiff set of his shoulders slumped. “Maybe we should start—”

  Sasha fled. She resolutely fought the tears that burned her eyes and blurred the crowds in front of her as she shouldered her way through. Her breathing grew labored and she rasped as if she had sharpened needles inside her chest. John Jordon. Kyle Jordon’s son. He was going to take her fair. It was his. Not hers. Never hers.

  She choked back a sob as the green, wrought-iron gates of the fairground came into view. Stumbling, she gripped them, shook them, wanting to rip them from their hinges. A scream gathered momentum, burning the back of her throat, and she dropped her head against the gate. Damn you, Kyle Jordon. Damn you to hell.

  The gentle, firm grip of a male hand on her shoulder spun Sasha around. Her heart thundered as she stood poised for a fight. Under the light above them, John Jordon’s eyes were soft with concern, the sculpted lines of his previously inscrutable expression somehow tamer.

  She closed her eyes, stopping her traitorous tears in their tracks. “Just do me a favor and go away. Back to wherever the hell it is you came from.”

  * * *

  “I’M SORRY, I can’t do that.” John slipped both his hands into his back pockets. The last thing he wanted to do was touch her. Liar.

  He knew she wanted the fair, but no part of him had expected the raw hurt and panic that showed so clearly in her eyes. This wasn’t a woman prepared to do whatever it takes—this was a woman who was hurt...and angry.

  For a long moment, she neither moved nor spoke. Just stayed where she was. Her slender shoulders, smooth and naked, rose and fell above the fitted confines of her bright yellow halter top. He struggled to drag his eyes from the length of her jet-black hair that fell in two gloriously thick sheets over her breasts.

  He’d seen her from a distance all day and felt nothing. Yet, the moment she stood close, the full impact of her stunningly dark eyes and full, smiling mouth zipped a bullet through his chest.

  He cleared his throat. “Miss Todd?”

  Her sigh was loud and tired. She straightened and tipped her head back and looked directly at him. The tiny smudges of makeup beneath her eyes smacked John in the chest. God damn it. She’d been crying. He pulled back his shoulders and tightened his jaw. No, he had to be stronger than this. While he was in Templeton he couldn’t be the man who looked out for everyone. He had to do what he came to do and then go home. “Look, maybe I shouldn’t have delivered the news that way, but—”

  “Are you here to take over from where your dad left off?” Her eyes were wide and cold. “That’s all I want to know right now. Everything else I’ll deal with tomorrow.”

  John ran his hand over his face. Tomorrow, he’d be better prepared, too. Her explosion had knocked him off-kilter, making him care. Tomorrow, he’d have it under control. He crossed his arms. “Yes.”

  “You’re taking over the fair?”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced past him toward the rides and noisy chaos of the fairground. Her jaw clenched. “I never even knew you existed.” She met his eyes. “Kyle never mentioned a son to me or anyone else, as far as I remember.”

  John held her gaze, silently absorbing her unintentional insult.

  Her eyes narrowed as she studied him; an intelligent light flickered brighter and then faded into their gorgeous depths. “None of my business, right? How did I know that was coming?” She gave a wry laugh. “Jesus, like father like son.”

  He flinched. She might as well have punched him in the gut. “I’m nothing like my father.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “So you say. From the five minutes I’ve spent with you, you’ve already managed to piss me off as much as he did every damn day he was here.” She raised her hands in defeat. “I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  When she moved to brush past him, John touched her arm, stopping her. “I’d like to see you in the office first thing.”

  She looked pointedly at his hand on her forearm. He released her, and she raised her chin. “Oh, I’ll be there. I’ll be there with freaking bells on.”

  She stalked away from him. He released a low whistle from between pursed lips as his gaze glued onto the soft curve of her butt encased in black denim.

  John’s father had described Sasha Todd as a ballsy, tough broad in need of a firm hand. He’d warned John to be wary of her. In the blink of an eye, she could be all soft femininity with the patrons, but in reality she was a fiery, spitting alley c
at. He’d said that soft side of her was an act—the real Sasha Todd was apparently a hard-nosed businesswoman.

  Two personalities—that’s what Kyle had said. Two personalities, each as scary as the other.

  John drew in a long breath. Well, clearly he had a fight on his hands, but that was just fine by him. After years of self-control, of conservative containment within the walls of a private boarding school, Oxford University and then his own classroom, this teacher was ready to let off some steam.

  He scowled as he strode back inside the fairground. If Sasha Todd thought she could direct any of her pissiness at him and come away unscathed, she’d better think again.

  Like she said, he was Kyle Jordon’s son, and even though the bastard had abandoned him years ago—and now had the gall to ask for his help—little did she or Kyle know what John intended to do about it. John glanced around his father’s domain. A fairground used as a cover for his illegal dealings—a place for kids and teenagers. The man was scum.

  John scowled. Kyle might have thought it was time for a father-and-son reconciliation, but his son had other ideas. At last, John knew where Kyle was after years of speculation and silence. When his father finally made contact just six short weeks ago, he’d clearly thought the path to father/son love would be simple and John would want the riches and immorality his father thrived on. Unfortunately for Daddy Dearest, that was just the sort of perilous miscalculation that occurred when a parent vanished, leaving their children to drift through life without them.

  John smiled. One way or another he’d right his father’s wrongs...while royally screwing Kyle over and leaving the son of a bitch without a penny to his damn name.

  Copyright © 2014 by Rachel Brimble

  ISBN-13: 9781460327890

  A REAL LIVE HERO

  Copyright © 2014 by Kimberly Sheetz

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com

  More than just a sparring partner…

  Bella Fiore has a lot to prove. For three generations her family has dominated the world of mixed martial arts—a tradition Bella dreams of carrying on. Her family, on the other hand, doesn’t agree. Without their support, she’s relying on the coaching of medal-winning Kyle Peters.

  Training with Kyle is not what Bella expects. They’re constantly butting heads. And with the body of a Greek Adonis, Kyle’s mat technique isn’t her only focus. Not that this attraction can go any further. She has a title to win! Yet when Kyle proves Bella can always rely on him, a championship may not be the only thing worth fighting for….

  “You obviously don’t like me,” Bella said.

  “That’s not true.” And it wasn’t. Kyle simply didn’t know how to handle Bella. Her temperament, her energy, her drive—they were all good things, professionally speaking, but they were nothing he was prepared to deal with. And that was what really bothered him.

  “I came here to train with you, Kyle.” Bella’s words were as sharp and precise as a scalpel. Her composure was unexpected, and it threw him off balance even more. “Not with your staff, not in your gym. I came for you. But if you can’t work with me, then all you have to do is say so, and I won’t waste any more of my time or yours.”

  “That’s not what I want.” The thought of losing her because he’d misspoken—because he couldn’t get over himself and deal with her—made him physically ill.

  Dear Reader,

  I can’t believe I’m publishing my third Harlequin Superromance book! Part of me always thought I might sell two books at most before I dropped dead from exhaustion…the other part yelled at me like a drill sergeant to keep writing. And so In Her Corner was born.

  I knew when I started writing my first book, Her Son’s Hero (Harlequin Superromance July 2011), that I would later write about a female MMA fighter. There’d been a few successful female fighters, but it was widely believed that women would never make it into the wider professional arena for a lot of reasons. That didn’t stop talented female athletes from trying, though.

  I was thrilled that so many great historic milestones in women’s mixed martial arts happened while I was writing this book, including the launch of Invicta Fighting Championship, a professional all-women’s MMA promotion company; and the first female fight in the world’s largest fight promotion, the UFC. It’s been exciting seeing female athletes compete at this level, and I’ve met so many more female fans as the sport continues to grow.

  In Her Corner isn’t just about one woman’s struggle for the right to fight; it’s also about one man’s struggle with himself. Kyle Peters was a flirtatious playboy in Her Son’s Hero, but things have changed since, and the wrestling coach is having a hard time working with wannabe pro fighter Bella Fiore. Bella’s part of MMA royalty, the only daughter of the world-famous Fiores who teach Brazilian jujitsu. Kyle can help get her career off the ground and break her away from her family’s legacy, but he’s wrestling with his own demons. He’ll have to decide whether to see Bella as an opponent or an ally.

  I love hearing from readers! Visit me on my webpage, at www.vickiessex.com; on Facebook, at www.facebook.com/vickiessexauthor; or on Twitter, @VickiEssex.

  Keep fighting the good fight!

  Vicki Essex

  IN HER CORNER

  Vicki Essex

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Vicki Essex couldn’t throw a punch if her life depended on it, but she’s been known to inflict injury accidentally, and suggests you stay out of arm’s reach, just in case. She’s a big fan of muscles and sportsmanship, and enjoys watching MMA fights while crocheting. She lives in Toronto and is an omnivore. Visit her at www.vickiessex.com; on Facebook, www.facebook.com/vickiessexauthor; and on Twitter, @VickiEssex.

  Books by Vicki Essex

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  1718—HER SON’S HERO

  1828—BACK TO THE GOOD FORTUNE DINER

  Other titles by this author available in ebook format.

  Special thanks to Elizabeth Gonçalves for her help with the Portuguese language.

  All mistakes are my own. Muito obrigado! Vou fazer-lhe uma toranja boneco de neve!

  A huge thanks to actor Tahmoh Penikett, who provided a perfect physical template for Kyle and happily played along when I asked him to pose for my cover. (Check out my website if you want the full story. 8))

  Thanks to my fantastic editor, Karen Reid.

  Thanks to the lovely folks at Harlequin Enterprises, especially to the art and production departments, who put together the best covers.

  For my friends and family, who’ve cheered me on.

  And as always, for John, my schmoo.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

 
Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Excerpt

  CHAPTER ONE

  KYLE STOMPED ON the brake and jerked the wheel to the right as the maniac on the bike barreled toward him.

  The figure in black and red whipped by, his loaded backpack brushing Kyle’s newly detailed convertible. Something metal bounced against the side of the car like a dud missile, rolling under the chassis. He slammed the heel of his palm against the wheel. No one touched his baby.

  “Hey!” he shouted as a horn blared. The cyclist darted out of the path of another car, wobbling on its suicide trajectory against New Orleans traffic. “What’s wrong with you?”

  The bicycle skidded to a stop. The front wheel popped up and pivoted around as the rider deftly maneuvered it like a rearing show horse. A horn blared, and the driver of the car the cyclist had barely dodged rolled down the window, shouting obscenities. The cyclist studied the ground, frowning, eyes masked by reflective sunglasses. He looked up briefly and screamed an obscenity right back.

  Jesus, the cyclist was a woman. All that lean muscle, plus the helmet and high-cut cycling top had effectively hidden any evidence of her femininity. Not that her being a woman subdued his temper. Kyle yelled, “Hey, lady, are you nuts?”