The Sport of Romance: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Cari Quinn

  Her lips trembled open and for a second I wasn’t certain she wouldn’t use my recently delivered fresh beer to threaten me as well. Bring it. If she wanted to fight, I’d let her expend her energy that way before we worked on expending mine in another.

  She drew herself up, throwing her shoulders back and her breasts out in a move that wasn’t meant to seduce. I’d seen that same puffed chest thing more times than I could count in the ring. “Fine.” She tilted her head and her overlong bangs tangled with her lashes. “Give me your address. I’ll come by later.”

  “When do you get off?” I hadn’t intended to make the question sexual, but from her soft noise of disgust she’d obviously taken it that way. “And women call men perverts. Christ.”

  She gave me what might’ve been a real smile. Rare as a rainbow from her, and twice as beautiful. “I’m done at ten.”

  I looked at my watch. A quarter to six. I’d already been at Vinnie’s since three-thirty. Watching the game replays, crunching peanuts, sipping my beer. I’d headed to the bar in shirtsleeves because the afternoon sun had felt warm. Big mistake. If I stuck around, I’d freeze my ass off on the walk back tonight.

  Unless she finally coughed up my damn jacket.

  Good thing I wasn’t in any hurry to leave. Besides, I didn’t trust her to follow through on her word to come to my apartment.

  “Give me a dinner menu.” I quirked a brow at her huff of breath. “I’ll wait.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mia

  I couldn’t believe he stuck around.

  Everything I knew about Fox Knox indicated he had a lot of patience in the ring and very little elsewhere. He didn’t go through an elaborate pre-fight routine like I did. His training seemed hit-or-miss. I’d heard he didn’t even watch his opponent’s matches anymore. People said he was slowing down and spacing out his bouts while he figured out what he wanted to do next. I figured he was just getting bored.

  I didn’t even want to think about his reputation with women. The local fast food joint had a number served. He probably had a number on his bedpost of those who’d served him.

  The guy was cynical, just as I was. Whether that was a new condition or a permanent personality trait, I didn’t know. Fighting me would be a new challenge. And if he took it as a joke, as something not worthy of his time, I’d beat him with even less trouble. I didn’t mind being the long shot. I’d been that before and I’d survived. I’d survive Fox too.

  I’d probably be the butt of plenty of jokes for daring to challenge a local legend, but no one could dispute that I had a good fight record. I trained relentlessly, watched my diet with rare exceptions, and kept my mind on the cage at all times. My skills in the martial arts I’d devoted myself to were as honed as my body. But I was still a woman, and that put me at a disadvantage with someone who topped me in both height and weight. And experience.

  If Fox consented to fight me, I didn’t know of many people who would back me, other than those curious to see if he’d really take me on—or to see if I’d get killed. The underdog position always brought out a few sentimentalists.

  As for the noise our match would generate? I couldn’t imagine. Women’s fights didn’t get nearly the notice that the guys’ fights did. I could keep going toe-to-toe with other female fighters, but I’d met up with most of the locals already, and we didn’t get much fresh blood. Lack of interest equaled lack of opportunity to make serious dough.

  The men, on the other hand, lured in fighters from all over. Despite New York being the last remaining state that hadn’t legalized MMA, we had an enthusiastic fan base. Enthusiasm meant money. We staged matches in a variety of converted warehouses and occasionally in a gym or Karate school on a rotating basis in the boroughs. The one thing all the locations had in common was enough room to accommodate the crowd. They were also held in relatively less densely populated areas that made it easier to hide. Or else the neighbors were too busy guarding their own illegal activities to care about ours.

  In terms of sheer spectacle, Fox taking on a woman no-holds-barred would be the ultimate. I’d heard of underground leagues that bragged of women-on-men fighting, but I’d never come across any here. Fox’s rep would be on the line. Not that he would ever believe he could lose. He was too cocky. I could use that to my advantage.

  Now I just had to convince him to say yes.

  I kept my head down throughout my shift, not wanting to attract any more attention after that beer bottle breaking incident. I was already on borrowed time with Carmine. Normally, I didn’t flirt much with customers, even when I was hoping to set up a hookup after my shift. And I wasn’t doing that anymore. I’d been hitting on that guy so hard for just one reason, and it wasn’t to increase my tips.

  I wanted to make Fox jealous.

  Which was pure insanity. I wasn’t the type of girl to pit guys against each another. I wouldn’t even know how. Why I’d believed Fox would care if I bent over and blew that guy right in the bar, I didn’t know. It was pure instinct. The instincts I usually operated from kept me alive. These were entirely different, and I didn’t know what to make of them.

  Add in the lust from earlier and I was a full bag of crazy that would likely explode all over Fox the instant we were alone.

  But he’d wanted to meet privately, so we would. I’d have to give him back his coat, though I hoped he’d give me something even more precious. Once I had his agreement to fight me, I could get my mind back where it belonged—in the cage.

  The closer it grew to quitting time the more nervous I became. Being on my feet all day had made me achy and sore and I wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a mug of cocoa. My bruises and assorted wounds from yesterday had started making themselves known again. Being sociable rated dead last on my To Do list. As usual.

  On the upside, I’d collected a bunch of tips and Shell and I were back in our usual groove. Constance, the bartender with the spiky hair who’d served Fox, was long gone, and I’d been glad to see her go. She hated me and I never understood why. I kept to myself and stayed out of trouble—well, most of the time. I tried to save my tendency to antagonize people for the place where I could make money from aggression.

  At ten, I went into the back room and put the communal share of my tips into the cup on Carmine’s desk. Luckily he hadn’t witnessed my earlier meltdown. Then I pulled on Fox’s jacket, already missing it, figuring I could at least stay warm until we reached his place. The temperatures were hovering below freezing outside. I’d sneaked out on my break, not to smoke but to watch what Fox was up to when he couldn’t see me.

  Naturally, he’d noticed me watching him through the window while he leaned his ripped body across a pool table and flawlessly banked a shot. My heart had been racing ever since.

  I grabbed my purse then flipped my braid out from under his jacket while I hip-checked the pass-through. Part of me hoped he’d decided to take off. He could always demand his coat back another day. I didn’t get why he hadn’t yet. Somehow he’d gotten locked into this bizarre push-and-pull game we were playing too.

  I made it all the way to the door of the bar before I saw him waiting outside. Hands tucked in his jeans, head tipped back, long cords of his neck highlighted by the milky moonlight. His thin Henley shirt clung to his abs and billowed slightly in the frosty breeze. He had to be a block of ice.

  Guilt cut through me. Nice move, Mia. Freeze the guy to death. I hurried outside, about to remove his coat and hand it over when his soft command made me fall still.

  “Don’t.”

  Swallowing deeply, I fought the shiver that climbed up my spine. His shirt was every bit as blue as his eyes. I didn’t want to meet those eyes, but it was better than staring at the broad planes of his torso. The fabric revealed everything. He could’ve won a damn T-shirt contest without it being wet. Who needed big boobs when you had an eight-pack?

  “I’m okay. I live nearby. You should take this back.” Suddenly, wearing Fox’s coat seemed way too intimate, li
ke I’d slipped on his boxers or something. I was already crossing boundaries if we were going to fight. And we had to. That had been my end game for so long that I refused to give up on it now. I shrugged the jacket over my shoulders. “Here, please—”

  “No.” His hands covered mine, pulling the leather back into place. “I want you to wear it. You’ll turn into a popsicle otherwise.” While I stared up at him like a dummy, he slipped his hand in the pocket of his coat as if he were searching for something.

  After a moment, he shook his head. “Been snooping, huh?”

  “What?” I frowned, remembering the penny. “I didn’t think it was a big deal if I kept it.”

  “Is that so?”

  I nudged him back and drew my wallet out of my purse. I fished out a penny and slapped it in his palm. “There you go. Didn’t realize you were that strapped.”

  He stared at the penny. “What the hell’s this?”

  Jeez, how much had he had to drink? Good thing he wasn’t driving.

  “I took the one I found in the zipper pocket.” I scanned his eyes. He certainly looked fine. Too fine. “You okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay.” He tucked the penny away. “So, ah, you found a penny in my pocket? By itself?”

  I’d seen a lot of drunks in my day, but I’d never witnessed one who could talk so lucidly while acting completely bizarre. “Yes. Just one penny.” I paused between each word to give him time to keep up. “I’m not a thief,” I snapped, belatedly realizing that maybe he intended to try to bust me for stealing his cash.

  Though I had taken unlawful possession of his jacket…

  “No, I didn’t mean that.” He blew out a breath and gestured ahead of him. “Can we walk?”

  “Why don’t I just give you back your coat? I don’t need the cops showing up at my door in the middle of the night.” I started to shrug it off again.

  “Wear it,” he commanded, his tone low and lethal.

  My fingers went lax around the sleeve. I might’ve even drooled a little. In a second, icicles would be forming on my chin.

  “I know you didn’t steal. I’m just looking for something. I thought I might’ve left it in my pocket, but obviously not.”

  He didn’t sound convinced. That made two of us. “If you refuse to take back your jacket now, why am I even going to your place? I’ll have to be without a coat sometime. Even if I go home in a cab after, I’m still only wearing this.” I tugged on my shirt, not catching where the conversation was going until the bus had sped right past the building. AKA my brain.

  Oh. He wants to fuck me.

  Harmless half-assed flirting and a touch of jealousy were one thing, sex another. Strangely, the idea wasn’t as abhorrent as I would’ve thought.

  I wasn’t sure what he saw in me. Even with his slightly crooked nose and the various pale scars that marred his golden skin, he was still closer to male model material than I’d ever seen in reality. A definite…spark existed between us, though that might’ve been a false positive. Most of the fighters I’d met seemed too selfish to care about getting anyone off but themselves. But I had a good feeling about Fox. I might’ve considered going through with it if I’d been sexually active. Big if. Since I hadn’t had sex in forever, he’d ask me questions I didn’t want to answer. Maybe he’d even think I was a virgin.

  I shook myself. What was wrong with me? Forget him thinking I was a virgin. I wanted to fight the man, not screw him. Evidently I needed sleep.

  I needed to get the hell away from him.

  He stepped closer. “You think I’m like those other guys, huh? That I only want you for what you can give me?”

  My breath clogged painfully in my chest. His eyes took my measure. Studying. Scrutinizing. Butterflies under glass couldn’t have felt any more pinned down than I did right then.

  “Or maybe what I can pay you for?”

  His silky voice lulled me, making me take longer than usual to get his meaning. Twice now I’d let him make insinuations, and he was still standing. “How fucking dare you.”

  “It slipped out before. Even with your reaction in there, I still didn’t want to believe it.” He cocked his head. “Guess I’m naïve.”

  Before I could hiss out a reply, one of his massive hands came up to cradle my already stinging cheek. I could practically feel my eyelashes clinging together for warmth.

  “Don’t you know there isn’t enough money in the world to justify selling off pieces of your soul?”

  He had no idea how close he’d come to the truth of my life, in more ways than one.

  The sting on my skin jumped to my eyes. I wasn’t prepared for the wash of tears, but I sure knew how to battle them back. “What makes you think you know a damn thing about me?” My voice was as hoarse as his was soft, and I hated that.

  I wasn’t some quivery female caught in the storm of my emotions. I had my shit handled. Not only did I deal with it every day without flinching, I made money off my demons. I beat them back, again and again.

  “I don’t know.”

  He stared into the void between us, his fingers imprinting my skin. I didn’t push him away. I’d frozen like a statue, only feeling the warmth surge back into my limbs when he again raised his face to mine.

  “But there’s something about you. I…recognize you.”

  “From where?”

  Impatiently, he shook his head. “No, not like that. I never saw you before yesterday, but it feels like I know you.” He sounded breathless. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Only sheer pride kept me bolted in place. I’d never experienced an inexplicable need to escape before, not like this. He was like a living X-ray machine, seeing through me to all my internal organs. All my scars. I didn’t want to be open to him, but I didn’t seem to have a choice.

  Despite my general cluelessness when it came to normal male-female interaction, even I knew what usually came next after this kind of conversation. The one secret vice I had was romantic movies. I scoured the bargain bins at discount stores and collected them like a junkie searching for her next fix.

  In the movies I loved, after the smokin’ hot hero delivered a doozy line like Fox just had about recognizing me, the heroine got all big-eyed, leaned up on her tiptoes, and laid her lips on his. Then they had sex, and little birdies circled around their dopey heads.

  And I’d curl up in my recliner with the springs burrowing into my ass and tears leaking down my cheeks while I wondered if I’d ever know what that was like, even for a moment.

  But this wasn’t a movie, and I wasn’t anyone’s heroine. If I’d had to place a bet, even I would’ve seen myself as a big fat risk.

  Snowflakes meandered down from the sky, fluttering over Fox’s cheeks and disappearing into the stubble on his jaw. I nearly leaned up to lick them off. “I want—” I swallowed, unable to say the words.

  He stepped almost imperceptibly closer. His hand tightened around my chin, his fingers still pinching slightly, giving me that pain anchor I craved. It was all I knew. All I understood.

  “What, Mia?” He licked his lips.

  My gaze zeroed in on their soft perfection with an intensity that matched the sudden pulse between my thighs. The words were right there. So close.

  “What do you want?” he pressed.

  He would give it to me. Whatever I asked, he’d offer it. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did. His urgency to give rose in equal measure to my desperation to force him away.

  My eyes lifted to his. The naked need I found there stunned me, but it didn’t make me back down. Nothing would.

  “I want to fight you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Tray

  I stared, certain I’d misheard. I’d been sure she was about to suggest something more…friendly. Like sex. Or even making out. Anything but this.

  My hand fell away from her face. My fingers had gone numb. As her words sank in, that sensation crept through my entire body. “What did you say?”

  “You’re a
fighter, aren’t you?” She shook herself, adjusting the jacket that dwarfed her slender frame. Cocky attitude firmly back in place. “Fox?”

  I struggled not to sneer at the stupid nickname. “Your point?” No one would out-cock me, even if I feared the sidewalk beneath my boots would open up and swallow me at any moment. “I’m a fighter, and you’re a woman. In case you haven’t noticed.”

  Her expression cooled until the snow that swirled around us contained more warmth. “Welcome to this century. Women can do everything men can. Including fight.”

  I moved in again to see if she would retreat or hold. “And fuck.”

  She held her ground. “So I’ve heard. Though I’m pretty sure they started doing that a while ago. Helps with the continuation of the human race and all.”

  My breath hissed out in frosty puffs. This woman frustrated me to no end. It wasn’t even the case of blue balls I’d endured all day that bothered me. I didn’t understand her. And like a kid faced with an unexpected present, I had to keep tugging at the ribbon until the wrapping fell away.

  Whether I’d find something I wanted to keep or forget was anyone’s guess.

  “Let’s go to my place,” I said finally, noticing the patrons streaming from the bar. We’d been standing outside what felt like forever. “It’s a few blocks away.”

  She quirked a brow as she started to walk. “Fancy dude like you lives around here? Is your sports car in storage?”

  I fell into step with her. She had no idea how close she skirted to the truth. Or maybe she did, since she knew who I was. I wished I had the same advantage.

  I gritted my teeth and pushed my hands into my jeans pockets. My cock still hadn’t deflated, and walking hurt. Maybe the thing would snap off and put me out of my misery. “You indicated you live in this neighborhood too. Where?”