Simon Says

by Lori Foster

  Knowing Dakota wouldn’t call him, Simon still checked his cell phone. Again.

  Nothing.

  He tucked it back in his slacks pocket and leaned on the wall. He should have found a good excuse to skip this. He could have gone to Dakota’s motel, locked them both in a room, and rid himself of pent-up sexual frustration.

  That thought came with a visual, and his body stirred. Damn. Not good.

  Would the night never end?

  A group of five fighters came over to him, followed by twice that many females. They insisted he share a few of the more gruesome stories of broken bones and popped ribs. Using the interruption as a diversion from his thoughts, Simon obliged, laughing with them, telling the tales without embellishment. By the end, he had a woman squeezed up on each side of him.

  The conversation turned to tattoos. Some fighters sported so much ink, they looked like comic papers. Most displayed tats with meaning, while still others tried to add menace with a well-placed, frightful design. It amused Simon how someone would always try to outdo someone else with the most outrageous artwork.

  “You got any tats, Sublime?” one young man asked.

  “On the top of my feet,” Simon told him around a swallow of cranberry juice over ice. During training, he didn’t allow himself any alcohol at all. “When I was twenty-two, I got drunk enough and cocky enough to think it’d be cool to have matching bullet hole designs there.”

  “Bullet holes?” one petite brunette asked. “I don’t understand.”

  Remembering his reasoning at the time, Simon grinned at himself. “I had just gotten really good with a high kick, and when I hit someone just right, it sounded like a gunshot.”

  “Awesome,” one young man said with near reverence.

  Right. Awesome. Simon grinned and shook his head. He got a real kick out of the new recruits to the SBC, their enthusiasm and naiveté, along with their determination. Training them was very rewarding.

  “I think it sounds sexy.” A chesty blonde smiled at him. “Will you show us?”

  “Not tonight.” Simon was about to comment further on tattoos when the band called a halt and the lead man jumped down from the stage.

  It wasn’t until then that Simon noticed his shirt. It read, BARBERS HAVE BIG POLES. Alongside the text was a thick red-and-blue striped barber pole.

  Barber. That was too much of a coincidence for Simon to let it pass. He excused himself from the group and started toward the bar where the singer had just ordered a drink. On his way, Simon studied him. He was tall, maybe as tall as Simon himself. Unlike most skinny musicians, he had a thick, muscular frame. As he lifted his drink and tossed it back, the flex of his arm showed a bulging bicep.

  Not the typical musician at all.

  Before Simon could reach him, Bonnie waltzed in, redirecting Simon’s attention. As usual, she looked gorgeous, decked out from head to toe in designer duds. With her hair twisted up in some deliberately loose, sexy style, she caught the attention of every male she passed.

  Keeping Simon in her sights, she ignored all others and made a beeline for him.

  Simon sighed. Bonnie hadn’t given up on him. Since the fateful day he’d left her, she’d done everything imaginable to get him back. Usually he could refuse her calls, dodge her come-ons, and ignore her apologies. Inside the crowded bar, it wouldn’t be so easy.

  Could the night get any worse?

  Simon no sooner had that thought than he heard a familiar voice screech, “Barber!” and everything masculine in him went on high alert.

  Bonnie reached him, started to say something, but Simon caught her shoulders and moved her to the side in time to see Dakota—at least, he thought that was Dakota—dashing across the floor toward the bar.

  The singer had already left his seat with his thick arms spread wide to greet her.

  Jealousy burned red hot.

  “Simon?” Bonnie complained. “Whatever are you looking at?”

  “I’m busy, Bonnie.” He tried to step around her, but she jumped in front of him and put her arms around his waist. Dakota slipped out of his line of vision, and he couldn’t free himself from Bonnie to get her back in his sights. “Let go.”

  “Simon, don’t be like this.” Bonnie tightened her arms and put her head to his chest. “I’ve missed you so much. I came all this way in the hopes we could talk.”

  “We don’t have anything to talk about. I’ve made that as clear as I can.” Simon saw the flash of Dakota’s legs—gorgeous legs, damn it—when the singer lifted her off her feet and swung her around in a circle.

  “But there’s something important that I have to tell you.”

  “Forget it.”

  With her hands clenched into the fabric of his shirt, trapping him, Bonnie pushed back enough to see Simon’s face. “You will listen to me, Simon. I insist.”

  God, he’d forgotten how pushy Bonnie could be. He caught her wrists and pried her arms away from him. “Insist all you want, but I’m not interested.”

  She blurted, “The man I slept with is the man you’ll be fighting.”

  “Harley Handleman?” Simon barely paid any attention. “So?”

  The crowd shifted and he could see Dakota again. A rush of heat left him breathing faster. Damn, she looked better than he’d even imagined.

  “Yes, Harley. Simon, he planned all this.”

  “What?”

  “Sleeping with me to get to you.”

  Now she was really reaching. “They just announced the fight cards tonight, Bonnie. Harley couldn’t plan shit.”

  Dakota’s casual clothes had hidden a sleek, sexy, athletic body. She wasn’t a small woman by any stretch, but she wasn’t overweight, either. An off-the-shoulders black dress hugged her all the way down to her knees, tight enough to show off straight, proud shoulders, a narrow waist and concave belly, generous hips, and toned thighs.

  In three-inch heels, her legs looked impossibly long and strong. And without a baggy shirt to conceal her curves, he could see that her breasts were round and firm. His gaze tracked her body back up to her face.

  Dakota met his gaze.

  For one second, her blue eyes shone with awareness. Then she took in Bonnie plastered to his side, and her smile turned mean.

  Damn, she looked incredible. Long blond hair curled over her back and shoulders. She’d done something with her eyes, making them smoky and sensual. Her lips were shiny, her skin flushed.

  Again, Simon pried Bonnie away. “Later.” He started toward Dakota.

  Bonnie latched on to his arm. “Did you hear me? You’ll be fighting my lover, Simon.”

  “And you think I care?” He wanted to get to Dakota, but he didn’t want to maim the singer.

  And that’s what he felt like doing, because Dakota kept hugging herself up to him, and he kept hugging her back.

  They were both smiling like saps.

  Barber his ass. The man did not work in a salon, but he wasn’t a typical musician, either. Sure, he had the overgrown hair and pierced ears. But he probably spent as much time in a gym as he did on a stage. Earlier, when he’d sung a slower love song to a heady beat, Simon heard a few women calling him sexy.

  His teeth locked. Did Dakota find him sexy, too? Given how she smiled up at him, probably.

  “Simon, I’m sorry,” Bonnie said. “I didn’t know that Harley was using me to find out about you until just recently. As soon as I realized it, I knew I had to come to you, to tell you.”

  “Thanks.” He watched as Dakota took the singer’s hand and started him in Simon’s direction. Everything about her fascinated Simon, how her hair moved, the slight bounce of her breasts, her comfortable stride in the high heels.

  Obviously, despite her preference for mannish boots, Dakota wasn’t unfamiliar with heels. She had the same confident gait, only now, instead of just self-assured, she looked killer ambling toward him.

  And she held another man’s hand.

  An edgy sort of anger burned in Simon’s gut, urged on b
y sharpening lust.

  “Simon,” Bonnie said a little louder, “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

  Dakota reached them just in time to hear Bonnie’s announcement. She stopped abruptly, then straightened herself and sent a sardonic glance at first Bonnie and then Simon. Her eyes burned with fire. “Wow. Pretty sucky timing on my part, huh?”

  CHAPTER 7

  SIMON couldn’t get over Dakota’s new appearance. Not because this sexier façade made him want her any more than he already did; that’d be impossible.

  But because now he knew every other man would want her, too. He didn’t like that idea at all. “Your timing is just fine.”

  Like an angry wet cat, Bonnie turned on Dakota. “No, it’s not. Surely you can tell that you’re interrupting a very private conversation.”

  “My bad.” Dakota started to go.

  Simon wrapped his fingers around her wrist and encountered warm, silky skin and deceptively delicate bones. When she turned her head toward him, her long hair cascaded over her shoulder.

  Dakota smelled like misted perfume and looked like scalding temptation. His heart beat faster. “What are you doing here, Dakota?”

  A seductive smile curved her mouth. “Just hoping to have some fun.” She freed her wrist, and tipped her chin up to him. “Is that a problem?”

  “Depends on who you plan to have fun with.” He directed his attention to the singer—and found him giving Bonnie an interested once-over. Great. If he kept his focus on Bonnie and off Dakota, they just might get along.

  “All things considered,” Dakota said with her gaze lingering on Bonnie, “I can’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

  “Don’t believe everything you see.”

  When the singer felt Simon’s stare, he gave up his scrutiny of Bonnie and held out his hand. “Hey, brother, how’s it going? I’m Barber, a friend of Dakota’s.”

  Simon took his hand and held on. “Define ‘friend.’”

  A smile flashed. “You know Dakota. She’s a heartbreaker. I’ve tried, but she won’t let me past the front gate.”

  “Stop trying.”

  Finally catching on to Simon’s hostility, Barber didn’t retreat. His hand tightened on Simon’s and he closed the space between them.

  Eye to eye with Simon, and every bit as determined, Barber said, “Out of respect for Dakota’s wishes, I’ve done just that. What about you?” He turned his head to size up Simon. “You been all that’s proper and respectful?”

  “Enough already.” Dakota wrapped both arms around one of Barber’s. “If we could bypass the pissing contest, I’d like to get out of here so Simon and his lady friend can get back to their personal discussion.”

  “We’re done,” Simon said.

  “No, we are not,” Bonnie asserted.

  Barber looked between them all, and settled on Simon. His congenial smile returned. “Got a little situation on your hands, don’t you, brother?” He winked. “Too bad for you.”

  Before Simon could explain that Bonnie wasn’t an issue, Barber slung an arm over Dakota’s shoulders.

  “Hey, babe, I have an idea. Come onstage and do a song with me.”

  As if they’d both just dismissed Simon, Dakota laughed. “No way. I’m not horning in, Barber, so forget it.”

  But Barber refused to take no for an answer. He headed for the stage, dragging a playfully resistant Dakota with him. When the other men in the band spotted her, they greeted her with familiarity, issuing catcalls and wolf whistles. Dakota just laughed at them.

  Simon seethed.

  He realized Bonnie was still talking to him when she caught his chin. “Simon! Are you listening to me?”

  Fed up, he glared down at her. “No, I’m not listening. If you can’t tell, I’m a little preoccupied here.”

  Barber jumped up on the stage and grabbed a mike. “I need y’all to give me a hand in getting my favorite lady, Dakota Dream, up here. Now c’mon, Dakota, honey. Come sing us a song.”

  With the band’s encouragement, applause broke out. A group of fighters from the gym looked at Dakota with awe. They knew her, but Simon doubted they knew she performed. Odds were even better that they’d never heard her last name.

  They got into the game quickly, making the most racket, pumping their fists in the air and shouting Dakota’s name.

  Dakota laughed aloud, shook her finger at Barber, and finally relented. She took off those sexy shoes and handed them to…Mallet?

  Simon did a double take. So that’s how she’d gotten to the party? With Mallet as an escort?

  That dumb-ass stood there grinning like the village idiot, doing his fair share to convince her to sing.

  Bending down, Barber held out a hand to Dakota. She hiked up her snug skirt to display her legs all the way to the top of her thighs. More wolf whistles pierced the air as she planted one foot onto the edge of the raised platform stage and took Barber’s hand. He hauled her up.

  Dakota positively beamed, Simon realized, as if she belonged onstage.

  And maybe she did.

  The band fell into a thrumming tune. Still smiling, Dakota shook back her hair, lifted a mike, and the second she began to sing, everyone went silent.

  Damn, she was good.

  It amazed him that such a deep, rich voice could come from such a delicate woman. But then, Dakota was full of surprises. Like her knowledge of mixed martial arts and training within the SBC.

  And his filial father.

  Simon stood there, as mesmerized as everyone else. The rock-and-roll tune bounced off the walls of the bar. When Dakota brought her hands together in an accompanying clap, the audience joined in.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Simon noticed the owner, Roger Sims, strolling up to the stage to listen.

  Beside Dakota, Barber played the guitar, but midway through the song, they switched. Dakota lifted the strap of the guitar over her head and picked up the beat where Barber had left off, segueing right into a solo.

  She looked hot enough to catch the stage on fire. When the solo ended, Barber turned to sing the song with her, and together, they made one hell of a show.

  When they finished, the room erupted into applause. Simon grinned, unaccountably proud for some reason, and all the more determined to have her.

  To quiet the crowd, they started another song. But this time the drummer called Dakota over and, to everyone’s surprise, she played the drums as well as she sang and played guitar.

  “Damn, she’s talented,” Simon said to no one in particular.

  Bonnie sniffed her disdain. “She looks cheap with her skirt hiked up like that and her hair going everywhere.”

  Simon stepped away from her.

  Bonnie followed in disbelief. “Oh, please, Simon,” she sneered. “Don’t tell me that she’s the reason you won’t forgive me?”

  “She’s got nothing to do with you cheating, Bonnie.”

  She sucked in a gasping breath, but wasn’t deterred. “At least stop ogling her long enough to let me explain how that fighter deliberately duped me.” She waited for his reaction, but got none. “Harley’s main goal all along was to get you in the ring, Simon. He wanted you to come out of retirement and—”

  “Enough.” Simon leaned close so no one else would hear. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t show any anger. But he tried to be as clear as possible. “I don’t give a damn who you fucked, Bonnie, or why. You can fuck him again tonight if you want.”

  “Simon!”

  “His reasons don’t matter to me any more than yours do. We’re through, and nothing is going to change that.”

  “But…you’ll be fighting Harley for your comeback. I wanted you to be prepared.”

  “You think the fact that you slept with him will somehow impact the outcome? You think I’ll be emotionally involved?” Simon shook his head. “It means no more to me than what he had for breakfast.”

  Her face colored. “You can’t mean that. You aren’t that cold.”

  Simon l
aughed. “No.” He glanced at Dakota, and his voice dropped. “Far from cold.”

  Lacking his discretion, Bonnie yelled, “Meaning you’re hot for her?” And she pointed her arm toward the stage, singling out Dakota for all who were close enough to witness her lack of tact.

  Simon felt a moment’s pity for her. She was not a happy woman. “Think whatever you want, Bonnie, but think it away from me.”

  He strode toward the stage to join Dean and Eve.

  “I didn’t know she performed,” Dean said. “She’s good.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  Eve elbowed Simon. “Has she fallen under your spell yet?”

  “Hard to tell.”

  “You’re kidding.” Eve laughed, but when he didn’t change expressions, she said, “You’re not kidding?”

  “No.”

  “Wow.” She looked at Dakota again. “I like her already.”

  “I knew you would.” Simon admired the way Dakota moved in time with Barber, doing a brief dance step that flowed with the beat of the music.

  Dean spoke to his wife loud enough for Simon to hear. “Simon’s not used to women giving him grief or making demands, and it’s interfering with his training.”

  “I’m sure with a little effort he could win her over,” Eve said just as loudly. “After all, this is Sublime we’re talking about. He carries that name for a reason, right?”

  Dean stopped being subtle to say directly to Simon, “Whatever he decides, he’d better get a handle on things soon so he can get his focus back on training.”

  “I’ve been training.”

  “And you’ve been preoccupied. The two don’t mix.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Simon said. But how, he didn’t know.

  Dean shook his head. He and Eve headed toward Roger and took up a new conversation.

  Gregor showed up next, with Jacki in tow. “This is a hell of a show, Sublime.”

  “Yeah, she’s good.”

  “Didn’t mean her performance, exactly.” Gregor grinned. “I meant the way you’re leering at her, along with every other guy here.”