Love On The Ropes (Ringside Romance)

by White, Pat

  “I’m next,” he said.

  Oscar started towards him.

  “Enough,” Johnny ordered. “This isn’t a schoolyard. Oscar, get on the table. I’ll do The Stripper after I’m done with Mack.”

  Oscar did as ordered and climbed on the examination table. “Banged up my knee again,” he said.

  “Yikes,” Sandy replied, carefully manipulating the joint to determine the damage.

  Her cell phone suddenly blared out the chorus of “Can’t Buy Me Love.”

  “Hang on,” she said to Oscar and dug in her bag. Very few people knew her private number. She hoped it wasn’t bad news about Dad.

  “Sandy Ryan,” she answered.

  “Sandy, it’s your mother.”

  “Mom, hi.”

  She mouthed, “I’ll be right back,” to Oscar and left the room in search of privacy.

  “How’s the job hunt?” Mom asked.

  Right, the job hunt to find a better line of work outside of professional wrestling.

  “Good, fine. Listen, can I call you back? I’ve got patients—”

  “Don’t call them that. They’re irresponsible men, Sandy, men who hurt everyone around them including the people they love. I wish you’d admit that and get the hell out.”

  “Mom, please—”

  “How about Friday? I’ll have a dinner party, invite a few friends.”

  “What kind of friends?” Another one of Mom’s fix-ups could be disastrous.

  “Does it matter? When your mother asks you to come for dinner you should agree without question.”

  “Is this another fix-up?”

  “As if that would be a bad thing? You need to have a life, Sandra. A life with a healthy young man who can give me a granddaughter that I can dress in pink lace.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Not a wrestler, not a talk-show host. A plumber. I know one—Stan Dewurtz. He’s a nice fellow who owns his own business.”

  “Mom—”

  “Or what about that nice man your brother set you up with? Did your job scare him away?”

  “No, we might get together again.”

  “I can’t stand you being involved with wrestling. A good man wouldn’t stand for it either. I’ll invite a nice, eligible bachelor for dinner and you’ll be charming. Hear me? Maybe I’ll invite two or three.”

  Sandy stood straight. “No, Mom, you can’t.”

  “And why not? You haven’t been serious about a man since Cody Monroe broke your heart. You should have learned from that experience — don’t date a wrestler!”

  “Okay, I know. I’ll call you later.”

  “Fine, I have calls to make anyway.” Sandra heard paper shuffling. “Hmm, here’s a nice one, Darla’s boy, Patrick, he’s divorced, horrible first marriage. He could use a nice, earthy girl like you. Wait, better yet, Mark London. Great sense of humor, always telling jokes. You remember him?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “That’s two. I’ll come up with two more and we’ll have an even four.”

  “Mom—”

  “Justin Trade was always fond of you, I wonder what he’s up to? I’ll call Shirley. She knows who’s available. She’s better plugged in to the Arlington gossip.”

  A sudden image filled Sandy’s brain: a dozen men lined up on Mama’s lawn holding bouquets of pansies with an auctioneer standing at a podium calling out bids. No, she wasn’t that desperate. She’d find her own man, her own soul mate.

  “I’m booked Friday night,” Sandy said.

  “Fine, Curt is having a family barbecue Sunday. I’ll invite a few friends and their sons.”

  “You can’t.”

  “And why not, missy?”

  Yeah, why not?

  “Because my boyfriend wouldn’t like it.”

  Good grief where had that come from?

  “Tell me he’s not a wrestler.”

  “Mom, I’ve gotta go.”

  “Fine, I look forward to meeting your young man on Sunday.”

  Oops, didn’t count on that. “I’m not sure he can make it,” Sandy said.

  “Nonsense, and miss an important family dinner? If he’s worth my baby’s love, he’ll come.”

  “Look, I’ve gotta go. Oscar got nailed by The Luminator, and Precious Paulina needs to have her back iced, and—”

  “Stop!” her mother cried. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ll see you Sunday. And, Sandra?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry if I seem pushy. It’s just, well, I love my little girl.”

  “Love you, too.” Sandy hung up, wondering if Mom would still love a lying daughter.

  “Bad news?”

  She spun around to find Jason standing a foot away. “You were eavesdropping?”

  “Kind of.”

  She pushed past him.

  “Wait.” He touched her shoulder and she couldn’t help but freeze as heat rushed down her arm.

  “I was worried, okay?” he said.

  “Man, Cosmo must be paying you a lot of money to be so worried about me all the time.”

  He gently turned her to face him. “Is that what you really think?”

  She couldn’t answer, not when she saw the spark of fire in his eyes. He either sincerely cared about her, or was a damned fine actor.

  Like Cody Monroe, maybe?

  Which gave her an idea. “What are you doing Sunday?”

  With a look of surprise he said, “What? Why?”

  “I need a boyfriend.”

  “Hell and damnation, my fantasy come true. Are you propositioning me?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not exactly. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for a family thing.”

  “What kind of family thing?”

  “Dinner, conversation and the third degree. Mom’s tough. She’s been trying to get me out of this business for years. She thinks finding me a solid man will do the trick. If I don’t bring a boyfriend to dinner she’s threatened to have guys lined up on the front yard for my inspection, courtship and eventual marriage.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Maybe exaggerating a little, but not by much. Anyway, are you free this Sunday? I figure you owe me.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Shall I count how many times I’ve patched up your sexy behind during the past week? Besides, you want your ring partner to be on your side, right? As opposed to slipping your opponent a lug wrench when you’re not looking?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  She smiled. Of course she wouldn’t. They both knew it. But Jason also had to know it was a lot easier working with his partner than against her.

  “What do I get out of the deal?” he asked.

  “A free meal.”

  “There’s no such thing.”

  She smiled and took his acceptance for granted. “Hey, I don’t even know where you live. Mom’s in a suburb of Chicago. Is that doable or too far away?”

  “Just tell me when and where.”

  “How about we meet around one at Denny’s on Algonquin in Arlington Heights. That way we can get our stories straight before we head over.”

  “Which story is that?”

  “The one about how much you love me, cherish me and want to take care of me—and how excited I am about having your babies.”

  He made a face. Was the thought of having sex with her so offensive?

  “It’s just acting,” she said. “You seem like a natural.”

  He shrugged.

  “The first thing will be to come up with another career for you. She’ll kill me if I bring home a wrestler. Construction’s good, I guess, and not a total lie.”

  “I know a little about the military,” he offered.

  “Hmm. Better.”

  She’d started back into first aid when she felt his hand touch her arm. She glanced at him.

  “Why me?” he said.

  Ah, the $77,000 question. And one she didn’t want to consider too closely.

>   She smiled, ignoring the butterflies flitting around in her stomach and said, “Because you’re safe.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Safe? No one had ever used that word to describe Jason. Sandy grinned and reached for the door to first aid.

  “Hang on,” he said. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Safe. You know, there’s no chance of me falling for you like I did with Cody Monroe.”

  “Yeah?” He leaned close. “I think I’ve been insulted.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” Her eyes grew wide.

  He moved closer, within inches of her lips. Man, did he need a taste of those again—to prove a point, of course.

  “I meant…” She swallowed, her heart charm dancing in the hollow of her throat.

  “What did you mean?”

  “I had no idea Cody was lying ninety percent of the time. With you I know the lie’s coming and I see right through it. I won’t allow myself to fall for a man who lies so easily. If I ever fall for a man again, I’ll have my eyes open.”

  “They look pretty open right now.”

  Closer, almost there, another breath and they’d be kissing. Jason’s pulse raced.

  “That’s why I can see,” her voice hitched.

  “Yeah, what can you see?”

  “That you’re all wrong for me.”

  He ignored her words and kissed her, his hand cupping her cheek, his lips pressing against the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. It was all part of the job, to get inside and gain her trust. But she said she’d never trust him, right? Aw, don’t believe what they say. Believe how easily they fall into your bed.

  Warm, soft and utterly fragile. That’s how she felt against him. This invincible healer wasn’t all that tough when he held her in his arms. Her slight moan vibrated against his lips. He slipped his other hand down to the small of her back and pulled her close, their bodies afire with need. He was falling, whirling in a tornado of panic.

  With you I know the lie’s coming and I can see right through it.

  Her words taunted him. If she really saw through him then she knew this kiss was a manipulation. Yet she did nothing to stop it, which meant what? Hell, he hadn’t a clue. His head was spinning from the effects of desire. He needed to get laid and fast.

  He broke the kiss. Sandy blinked slowly and opened her eyes. “Wow,” she whispered.

  “I was practicing.”

  “For what?”

  “For Sunday dinner.”

  “Stripper, if you kiss me like that in front of my mother she’ll call Father Paul and we’ll be married before dessert.” With a wry smile she winked and disappeared into the first aid room.

  Jason leaned against the wall struggling to get his bearings. Steroids—this was about nailing the bastard who was dealing drugs. Running his hand across his face, he wondered how he’d gotten so embedded in this assignment. Or was it that Sandy had embedded herself in the big, bad Stripper?

  Floyd’s valet, Missy, sauntered up to him. “She’s a lesbian,” she warned.

  “You wouldn’t know by kissing her.”

  “I know the truth about that one.” She nodded in Sandy’s direction. “All of it.”

  J raised a brow. “Yeah?”

  “Cody Monroe did things to her, wonderful things.” Missy gazed into the distance as if imagining Cody doing those very things to her.

  J snapped his fingers in front of her face to get her attention.

  “Right. Well, it didn’t matter what he did with his hands or his tongue.” Missy leaned close. “She never had an orgasm.”

  J resisted the urge to slap a piece of duct tape over her mouth. He didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to hear what another man did to the free-spirited, emotionally fragile beauty. Besides, what business was it of Jason’s if Cody Monroe was a poor lover and Sandy had suffered for it?

  “Not only that,” Missy continued, “but her family’s all messed up. Her dad’s got cancer and you met her brother, the cripple.” She shook her head.

  J knew Sandy would be furious if she heard her brother referred to with such pity. He bit back his own anger at the judgment in Missy’s voice.

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know,” he said.

  “Did you know she sells drugs to pay medical bills?” Missy sneered. “I’ve seen it. She hands out little white pills to the boys. Disgusting. You can’t even trust your own doctor these days.”

  “She’s not a doctor.”

  “Even worse. The boys never see real doctors. They depend on Johnny and Sandy for medical advice.” Missy stood straight. “That reminds me, I’ve gotta find Floyd some antacids, preferably berry-flavored. You got any?”

  J patted his naked chest. “Nope, must have left them in my other trunks.”

  “Okay, well, thanks.” The woman smiled and teetered away on her four-inch heels.

  Ditzy broad. She couldn’t know for sure what she was talking about, right? Get a grip, J. She just told you she’s seen Sandy deal drugs.

  Yeah, pills. Steroids were most effective if injected with a syringe, a lot like the one Dr. Killroy was waving around tonight.

  Which puzzled Jason even further. Sandy was enraged when Killroy pulled out that syringe, and the mere mention of steroids set her off. What was the deal here? He should call in and get a final report from Hicks so he could put an end to this direction of the investigation. He needed to check Sandy off the list of prime suspects before it drove him nuts.

  Hobbling back to the dressing room, he realized he might have reinjured his ribs in tonight’s match. That damned wound never seemed to heal, always reminding him of Special Forces, his hard-ass attitude and screw-up with Chauncy. His buddy didn’t hold a grudge, but Jason could never forgive himself for leaving Chauncy behind in Iraq, no matter how badly Jason needed medical attention.

  When he got to the dressing room, only Barbell and The Luminator were still packing up. Jason nodded at Barbell and grabbed his bag from his locker. Stretching out his neck, J searched for his cell phone. Somehow it had fallen out of the side pocket and was buried at the bottom of his clothes. He called his apartment and had three messages. Great, probably Meek demanding an arrest.

  But J still had a good reason not to bring anyone in: he didn’t want to blow his cover until he had proof.

  Yeah, keep telling yourself that, chief.

  He certainly had enough on Sandy to bring her in for questioning, but he wanted more. He needed her to hand him the drugs herself.

  Message number one: “It’s Jordon. You forgot Mom’s birthday. What the hell is with you, man? Not even a card?”

  He didn’t forget, but wasn’t able to break away from work long enough to get her something.

  Bad son. Terrible son. What else is new?

  Message two: “It’s Hicks. I’m still working on it. Call me.”

  J stared at the phone for a second. Good, this was good. Maybe Hicks had some answers so J could move forward with this case and leave this ridiculous assignment behind, which meant leaving Sandy behind.

  “Hey, you sexy hunk,” the third message started. “It’s Carlotta. I’ve got a new waterbed, satin sheets and handcuffs. Call me back!”

  He sat down on the bench and closed his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to take a break from this case and bed that crazy girl. Hot, hot, hot. He could make her come by caressing her breasts.

  A sudden image of a bored Sandy, unable to reach orgasm, crossed his thoughts. It didn’t make sense. She seemed so passionate about life.

  She’s your next collar and don’t you forget it.

  He should call Hicks, but not until the room cleared out.

  Barbell packed up his gear and left without a word. Luminator finished shaving and eyed Jason in the mirror. “You don’t look so good,” he said.

  “Tired as hell.”

  “It always starts that way,” Luminator said. “Get with Sandy. She does magic with those hands of hers.”

  No ki
dding. “Thanks.”

  Luminator nodded and left.

  J eyed his cell phone. This was it. The lab’s information would give him what he needed to arrest her. He took a deep breath.

  He was procrastinating, damn it. He needed to call in, get confirmation and make the collar. He hit speed dial for the lab.

  The locker room door burst open and two suits stepped into the room.

  “Are you Jason McBain?” the taller guy asked.

  “Yes.”

  A chill raced down his spine. Were they Feds, or local dicks? Either way, it wasn’t good.

  “I’m Agent Burton, this is Agent Dunn. FBI.” He flashed his ID. “We have a search warrant for your personal belongings.”

  “What? Why?” He stood.

  A crowd gathered outside the open doorway.

  “Please sit down, sir.” Agent Burton motioned.

  “You don’t understand. I’m...” Now what? With the group forming a few feet away, he couldn’t identify himself as a federal agent.

  “Sit down, sir, or we’ll have to restrain you.”

  “Come on, guys, give me a break.”

  They slowly approached, and he knew he’d better do as ordered or he’d be in cuffs.

  “Fine, whatever.” He collapsed on the bench. Agent Dunn reached for his duffel.

  “Let me see the warrant,” J said.

  Burton handed it to him. Damn, it was legit. Who the hell was behind this? Had Spike Hatskill planted something on Jason to get back at him? Or could this be Meek’s way of bringing J in to report on the case? How humiliating, he thought, glancing at the wrestlers crowding the doorway.

  But he’d done nothing wrong.

  “Found it.” Agent Dyer pulled a bottle of cold cream out of Jason’s bag. Where the hell did that come from? Dyer opened the top and pulled out a plastic tube.

  “Jason McBain, please stand up,” Agent Burton said.

  J’s gut clenched. “I’ve never seen that before.”

  “We need you to come with us and answer some question,” the agent said.

  He stood in slow motion, unable to believe what was happening to him. Standing on either side of him, the Feds marched J out of the locker room toward the exit. Agent Dunn carried his backpack, and Burton kept a firm grip of J’s upper arm.

  His naked upper arm. He was going to be paraded through a police station half naked?