Lucky 13

by Cat Gardiner

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here for an MMA lesson, and Alex thinks I’m good enough to go head-to-head with The Black Widow. You are the Black Widow, are you not? As for my being here at Reebok, I wanted the best instructor. If you ask me, you sound a little full of yourself, thinking I’m stalking you.”

  Her eyes flashed and narrowed, boring into him with venom. Venom that was exclusive to the skilled kickboxing man-killer she was at Reebok. Her petulant lips pursed just so, and the heave to her bosom, caused Darcy’s struggle to keep his eyes locked with hers. His heart pounded and it wasn’t from the exertion of minutes ago.

  Elizabeth’s attraction to him was equally as riveting. Damn if he didn’t look so ridiculously sexy with his hair mussed and those incredible dimples of his. The perspiration glistening on that man’s arms was too hot for her to ignore. Already the scent of his pheromones was driving her wild, making her heart work double time. Yeah, she could now understand the efficacy of that pheromone dating party Charlotte talked about.

  Feeling the palpable attraction between the two determined people before him, Alex’s regretful heart clenched. He laid out the rules, “Helmets, gloves, mouth guards – in the ring. No shoes, bare feet only. We’re playing for a prize at the end, to be determined by me.”

  She attempted to protest until Alex put up his hand to stop her from speaking. “Use the techniques you have been taught – whatever they are. There are no hard fast rules, Muay Thai, Jiu-jitsu, boxing, whatever. Our focus is building on what we know and to challenge ourselves when faced with a predator’s unexpected technique. First sign of blood, it’s over and a draw. Otherwise, this fight ends when the victor places you in a position of submission. You reserve the right to tap out of it, thereby acknowledging your defeat. The victor must relinquish his or her hold immediately. Nothing untoward will be tolerated, no dirty tricks – Liz …”

  Peevishly, she folded her arms across her chest. “Fine … I’ll play by your rules if he does.”

  Darcy smiled again, nodded and Alex commanded, “Get yourselves ready and meet me in the center of the ring.”

  Elizabeth wearing her red, padded helmet, faced off before Darcy in his blue one. They stood face-to-face and toe-to-toe, remarkably reminiscent of the bowling alley the night before. Her long ponytail lay draped over her right shoulder. Darcy looked down at her bare feet, and before putting in his mouth guard, smirked - red painted toenails. She had beautiful feet, kissable feet with toes worthy of some serious suckage. This little piggy … Hot damn, he was aroused already.

  She furrowed her brow, tempted to remove the mouth guard nestled between her teeth and ask him what was so humorous.

  Alex hummed a couple of bars of “Eye of the Tiger,” then said, “Let’s get it on.”

  Darcy held out his blue glove, and she responded with a meeting tap and a wicked gleam in her eye.

  They circled one another, gloves defensively poised at the ready before their faces, both hesitant to take the first jab.

  From his stance, Darcy noted every line of concentration on her forehead. The focused intent of her stare intrigued him. He waited for her to take the first shot. A quick right jab to his jaw nearly made contact, but he pulled back just in time from her impressive reach.

  Quick on its heels was an unexpected side kick to his left rib cage, jolting him backward. Elizabeth smiled through her yellow mouth guard, and he quickly knocked the smile from her lips with a fast one-two combination. Damn, he hated causing pain to that beautiful face of hers, but she hardly seemed to notice or wince from the impact.

  She raised an eyebrow, offering him a taunting, “Does that make you feel superior?” expression.

  A brief flash of admiration and concern in his reciprocating look clearly conveyed, “I’d hate to mar your beautiful face,” to her surprise.

  Elizabeth quickly processed his unexpected response as a compliment before they moved on as adversaries, circling one another like animals in a ritual mating dance, posturing, jabbing, and blocking, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack with ferocity.

  She couldn’t help but to notice that sexy vein rippling down Darcy’s bicep whenever he extended his reach with impressive, unexpected boxing skill. It wasn’t until his knee and leg strikes pummeled her backward that she knew she had been played. He was not only powerful but he was proficient as well, and every one of his elbow blocks told her Mr. December knew more than simple boxing techniques. With each punch she delivered, he was too quick in his counter-punch back to her, swiftly landing spinning back fists and elbow chops.

  Darcy didn’t expect such quick responses. Her left uppercut was a fearsome thing to behold and when followed by her right hook, his left eye was certainly in for a shock.

  Upon impact, he stumbled backwards against the ropes, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. He was keenly aware that tomorrow he would be sporting quite the black eye from her perfectly executed punch. Momentarily removing the mouth guard he panted, “I’m impressed.”

  “Did you doubt my skill?” she offered as she took the opportunity to adjust her guard as well.

  “Not for a moment.”

  Flattered, she smiled then thanked him before putting her mouthpiece back in.

  Resuming, Darcy came at her with a vengeance he knew she would thrive on. With leg kicks and knee strikes, she was right there block for block and duck for duck.

  The surprise of his Flying Cobra Punch didn’t afford her time to duck when his southpaw cross punch hit her headgear. She surmised that he was probably pulling the punches he gave to her. After all, she felt his muscles and saw him warming up for his photoshoot in the weight room before going before the camera. That arm vein of his didn’t just magically appear on command. Darcy had to pump some serious iron for it to get there, and she saw him easily bench press his weight. Not to mention his carrying one-hundred pounds of gear going into a fire meant he had to have a significant amount of strength.

  She knew that the impact of his full strength would not have been a pretty sight, but what impressed her was the fact that he didn’t hold back in giving her a challenging and terrific fight. In many ways, this was one of the most stimulating moments of her life. She got what she wanted – Darcy in the ring – and then some.

  Alex stood at the ropes, closely monitoring the fight, careful not to let it get too far. When Darcy quickly looked in his direction, he signaled the final takedown. He knew Elizabeth, and knew she was feeling cocky about the execution of her new combination to his eye. It was just the right time. She was challenged, but was growing weak and too self-assured for her own good.

  Darcy smiled, his blue mouth guard almost as taunting as his usual pearly whites. He circled her and after a series of strikes and blocks, took her down with a simple unexpected front leg sweep.

  Flat on her back on the mats, Elizabeth raised her legs to propel herself up, yet Darcy was there in a heartbeat, her legs trapped, and her body rotating and twisting under his forceful hold. It only took four seconds before her legs were completely immobile and her body pinned entirely below his.

  Her arms lay immovable under the lock of his. She felt the slick perspiration on his arms against hers. Through the thin, cotton fabric of his tank, she felt his heartbeat thumping in his chest. Her own heaving, aroused chest was crushed below his. He felt fantastic on top of her and truth be told, she didn’t want it to end. Much more than she would ever let on, the feel of the hardness of his athletic support pressed into her thigh was highly stimulating. She went limp under his strong weight, loving every second of it.

  “Give up?” Darcy asked as he spit out the oral impediment.

  Her eyes locked with his, feeling strangely equal with him and connected. Mimicking her limbs, she finally released the fight of her strong will, competition and animosity, and with a feminine puff, her own mouth guard came dislodged and fell to the mat. “Yes, I submit.”

  She had no recourse but to ‘tap out’ and wouldn’t yo
u know it, her hand was held behind his backside. Oh yeah that felt good, and he smiled when her hand lingered just a little bit longer than necessary on the left cheek of his butt.

  Alex clapped once. “Fight over.”

  With an immediate release, Darcy stood and would have helped her up but with a quick hop from her reclining position, she was already standing beside him.

  “Great fight!” Alex said. “You’re both equally matched, but Liz you lost, submitting to a variation of an arm lock, triangle hold.”

  “Will you teach me that?”

  Alex smirked. “How about Will teaching you that?”

  Elizabeth looked at Darcy, noting how under his eye it was turning a little color. She shrugged in answer to Alex. “I’m sorry about your eye … and the slap last night.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You were fantastic. When I think about your slap, I only remember your fiery temper, and I will wear this black eye with pride. I might well be the only member in the club to have actually survived going head-to-head with The Black Widow.”

  His smile caught her off guard. It was so sincere, she could kiss him. She could tell he sincerely meant his compliment and at the risk of feeding what she had always thought was his self-inflated ego she responded in kind. “Thanks, you were … impressive, too.”

  Alex cleared his throat. “Don’t you want to know what Will won?”

  “Sure, free lessons? A chance to fight you?”

  “No, a date with you.”

  Darcy watched her acutely, monitoring the minutely changing expressions on her face, from the knitted brow of confusion, to realization that she had been duped, to finally resignation that she would eventually have to go out with him.

  Elizabeth thought she would be madder than she was at having been tricked by both Alex and Darcy. Funny that she wasn’t mad; she was actually pleased. Having Darcy’s body pressed on top hers in a submissive fashion was most likely the beginning of her undoing. It was simple mathematics, really, and she didn’t need a list to tally up basic addition: one and one made two. Darcy plus Elizabeth equaled combustive energy, which could very well be put to better use than fighting each other.

  She met Darcy’s gaze and slightly smiled. “Fair is fair, you won, Darcy. I’ll agree to go with you on one condition.”

  “Anything.”

  “You admit in front of Alex that you’re not just playing with or teasing me.”

  “Elizabeth, you don’t know me well enough yet to fully trust me, but I assure you on my honor - my intentions are all good, and I also assure you that you won’t be sorry.”

  She chuckled. “Always so sure of yourself, huh? Okay, then, I’ll look forward to our date.”

  Turning to Alex, she playfully wagging her finger. “Just wait until I get you in the ring. Payback is a bitch.”

  Liz’s Blog Post Here

  Chapter Fifteen – Sunday, December 15

  10 Days Until Christmas

  Everywhere you looked in Midtown Manhattan, Christmas jumped from each corner, skyscraper and window, streaming with light and color. It was impossible to not be filled with the spirit of the season. The holiday at nighttime in New York City was alive and vibrant and to stores such as Macys and Saks Fifth Avenue an invitation to shoppers to purchase and window gaze. Show-goers rushed to traditional theatre venues such as the Radio City Christmas Spectacular with the Rockettes and The New York City Ballet’s The Nutcracker, which enticed residents year after year. For the 2013 holiday season, new shows such as Handle’s Messiah, Andre Bocelli and the performance of The Magic Flute at the Metropolitan Opera played to sold out audiences.

  Having arrived by taxi - alone, Elizabeth stood in front of one of New York’s most famous landmarks, Madison Square Garden, ready for her date with John. A roster of reasons was rationally compiled in the back of her mind why she would be meeting him rather than him picking her up, but she dismissed the list and the offense of propriety, very proud of herself and her ability to do so.

  Dressed to the nines in the black Karen Millen dress Charlotte thoroughly re-fashioned for speed dating and a new pair of python Louboutin shoes, she hoped she looked as fabulous as she felt.

  She was as excited for this date with her first boyfriend as much as she anticipated seeing the Broadway show, A Christmas Story, now playing through the holiday season at The Theatre at the Garden. Of course, John didn’t actually tell her he was taking her to see the musical but it was a well-known fact that A Christmas Story was her all-time favorite holiday movie ever. So when he had said, “I’m taking you to see something special at The Garden,” Elizabeth knew, unequivocally, she was in for a treat. The promise of cocktails afterward with “we’ll see what develops after that,” made his implication very clear. She had, more than once in the past few days, considered, Forget all the other dates, make life simple and just take John to Christmas dinner and Jane’s wedding. Mom would be happy, and I could get off this dating rollercoaster.

  John had looked so good the day of the photoshoot that Elizabeth couldn’t deny the re-emergence of the physical attraction she had through her high school years. Now a successful, matured man with a Pulitzer, he was the total package. She was sure a date with him would be like old times, a familiar, worn-in pair of jeans that knew the shape of her hips and fit comfortably. In her heart of hearts, the place she rarely ventured, she yearned for the skewed, romanticized memories of her first relationship: the newness of first love, its feelings and butterflies, the safety of someone who would always be there to take you out, make you feel needed, a relationship where she could give of herself to please her man. She ignored the logical counter argument in the back of her mind that cautioned: time and distance from that first love has a way of whitewashing the ugly leaving only the remembrances that gave pleasure. Sure, she remembered some of the reasons she had scars, but surely time had changed the man who had created them.

  Standing at the entrance on Seventh Avenue, commuters, sports enthusiasts and show-goers, wrapped in layers of winter wear, hustled by as she rubbed her leather-clad, cold hands together, waiting for John.

  The Jumbotron above the famous steel awning flashed rotating glimpses of all the events at the entertainment complex while the smell of her favorite honey-roasted nuts wafted through the cold night air from the metal street cart beside her. Her stomach growled from the onslaught. Every one of her senses was titillated. She loved this time of year in her city. It was truly magical.

  She watched John rise up on the escalator, exiting from the depths of Pennsylvania Station located beneath Madison Square Garden. Just like old times, she resisted finding fault with him, holding back her frown at his worn bomber leather jacket, blue jeans, and tennis shoes as each piece of apparel came into sight. She tried not to look too harshly at his messy, slouchy wool hat. Her mind offered more excuses for his careless, casual apparel. Old habits of rationalization resurfaced: He was a world traveler. He had become relaxed, spending long periods of time in third world nations. His standards on date protocol had changed. It was bound to happen in his line of work. Wasn’t it?

  John’s first look at Elizabeth caused a double take. Phenomenal, standing there against the backdrop of the ever-moving, festive city, alive with yellow taxis and colorful holiday decorations, was an understatement. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in full, bouncing waves. Gone were the annoying eyeglasses and as he approached he noticed that she wore the most alluring shade of red lipstick. Long, toned legs descended to a pair of the sexiest shoes he had ever seen. Man, it was good to be home he thought, and man, it would be even better to wake up beside my Honeybee tomorrow morning. There was something to be said about going back to the beginning. The woman who stood before him clearly was no longer that innocent high school girl whose virginity he took in her tree house one summer. His sweet Honeybee had blossomed into the intoxicating vixen standing before him. She was matured, professional, confident and downright sexy.

  Employing his boyish charm, he smiled at
Elizabeth, slid his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. “You look lovely, Honeybee.” He kissed her cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  “Have you been waiting long? I’m sorry I’m late. Charlotte’s new boyfriend came down to pick her up for a date, and I stayed to meet him. I wanted to see if he’s everything she doesn’t say. You know how tightlipped she can be about her love life.”

  John clasped her hand without preamble, leading her toward the main entrance of The Garden. To Elizabeth, it seemed like old times already.

  “What did you think of Rick?” She asked thinking there was nothing not to like.

  “Char seems to like him. Hell, she bought a gown for that Foundation Gala. I’ve never seen her so attentive to a guy, but then again, I haven’t seen her in some time. But this Rick is totally wrong for her with his manicure and Upper East Side swagger.”

  “Oh, I disagree. Rick is perfect for Charlotte, and they have a great time together. They are exactly what the other needs, the sharing of two very different worlds on common ground. Once people put aside their pride and prejudices, relationships can really work out beautifully. Oil and water when mixed properly with the right ingredients makes a wonderful vinaigrette, ya’ know.” Elizabeth smiled thoughtfully, for a moment thinking of Mr. December and her date looming ahead on Thursday. Oil and water … prides and prejudices … oil … yummy.

  John looked over at her beaming face, her red cheeks reminding him of the young girl he used to take to the Nassau Coliseum to watch the National Hockey League’s New York Islanders play.

  “Nah, can’t convince me to like him, grade-A jerk.”

  Elizabeth was put off by the downturn to his mouth and his insult to Rick. “You’re so wrong about him. Rick is extremely down to earth and he’s the Chairman of the FD Burn Foundation.”