MMA Fighter's Fierce Temptation (The Burton Brothers Series Book 1)

by North, Leslie

  He eyed Bryant Burton now and wondered if Alice could do the guy any good. She was as good a trainer as her dad, maybe even better. She had more patience and a better eye for form, and an instinct that would have put her on top as a trainer. But she also had boobs—most of these MMA fighters brought with them a macho streak a mile wide. Meaning they didn’t want to take orders from a women—and wanted to train with a guy who’d give them a bad-ass reputation.

  Well, for better or worse, Bryant was going to get some kind of training here.

  Bryant headed over to the sparing area and punched at a bag. “Guess all that one-on-one is good for me, right?”

  Tavvy nodded slowly. “Depends. You have a good reason for coming up here uninvited? Why aren’t you already at some other camp, getting ready for your fight?”

  “Is Anders upset over that?” Bryant asked, glancing in the direction of the main cabin.

  “Not really, but the man hasn’t been feeling real well of late. So don’t expect a lot of direct communication with him. I’ll make sure he lets me know the game plan and give that information to you.”

  Bryant straightened and stared at Tavvy. “As for why I’m not training somewhere else—I couldn’t think of anyone else I wanted to train with.”

  Tavvy huffed. “Find that difficult to believe. There’s got to be half a dozen other camps on this side of the US that could train you.”

  “I wanted the best. That’s Anders and you know it. But I haven’t been sitting on my thumbs the last few months, either. My brothers have been helping me out.”

  Tavvy gave a sharp bark of laughter. “That’d be how you got that bruise on your cheek, I bet. Mason or Beck put it there?”

  Reaching up, Bryant touched the cut his brother had given him and smiled. “Mason seems to think it’s his personal mission to teach me to cover my head.”

  “Somebody needs to. You had Carlisle beat until that last hit.”

  Bryant nodded. “That’s what I keep hearing. Anyway, I need what Anders has to offer.”

  Tavvy nodded in agreement. “Can’t argue with that logic, but normally fighters this close to another major fight are paring down their workouts, not ramping them up.”

  “I’m not just any fighter.”

  “Bryant, truer words I’ve never heard. You are definitely unique. You’re a good fighter, son. But you’ve just got a few weaknesses you need to fix.”

  Bryant span around to face Tavvy. “So, Anders is willing to train me?”

  “Can you afford his fees?”

  “That’s one thing I don’t have a problem with. I brought the money for the first week with me, and I’ll instruct my bank to wire the future payments over each Monday.”

  Tavvy nodded. “Good enough.” He tossed the towel in a nearby basket and headed for the door. “Come on. It’s dinnertime and Marguerite doesn’t like her food to get cold.”

  Chapter 3

  Bryant followed Tavvy into the main cabin and stopped outside the door. Knocking, he waited for a response, shuffling on his feet. His ability to win the upcoming fight was directly tied to the outcome of the next few minutes, and Bryant was more nervous than if he was about to go into an actual cage fight.

  From inside, a raspy voice called out, “Enter.”

  Bryant opened the door and stepped into an office with bookshelves and a large desk in front of the window. A man sat behind the desk, his hands resting in his lap, rather than on the desktop. A brimmed hat rode low over on his head and a firm set to his mouth gave Bryant the impression he was less than pleased to be having this meeting.

  “Mr. Anders? I’m Bryant Burton. I’m sorry to just show up you like this, but I have a fight in—”

  “Three months. I know. I watched your tapes.” The man’s voice was husky and a little higher than he’d expected. The guy looked like he’d been ill—his clothes hung on him as if he’d lost weight, and Bryant started to worry about throat cancer or another illness that would take the likes of Anders out of this world. That wouldn’t be good.

  Concentrating on making a good impression, Bryant nodded in the direction of the empty chair. “Mind if I sit?”

  Anders nodded, and Bryant took a seat. How he was supposed to take the man sitting in front of him? He was nothing like Bryant had imagined! He wasn’t a large man by any means. But that made sense. A heavyweight wouldn’t know how to train bantems and welterweights.

  He seemed a man of few words, speaking in succinct, short sentences. He couldn’t see the man’s eyes because of the way he was sitting, his face shadowed by his hat. “Sir, I—”

  Before he could get any more words out, Anders held up a hand.

  ***

  Alice held up her hand, being sure to keep her pink-tipped nails facing the window behind her. She’d totally forgotten about her nail polish, and it wasn’t until she was seated in her father’s desk chair, her hands resting on the desk calendar, that, horrified, she realized her mistake.

  She hadn’t had time to do anything about them, so she simply resorted to keeping them away from her visitor. She really needed to finish this initial interview and get him out of the office.

  Tavvy had reluctantly agreed to help as the go-between for the training regimen with Bryant Burton, and she was now regretting not letting him do this initial meeting as he’d offered. “You met Tavvy?” she asked Bryant.

  “Actually, we’ve known each other for a while. For most of my life, if you want to get technical.”

  “Good, then you’ll have no problem working with him. As you can hear, my voice… my health’s not the best right now. I’ll communicate my wishes to Tavvy, and he’ll be in charge of seeing that you carry out the appropriate training exercises. You have a sparring partner?”

  “Will he need to come up here?”

  “The next day or two should be sufficient. He’ll bunk in the second bedroom in your cabin.”

  “That’s fine. We’re used to bunking together. I’ll put a call in to him right after dinner.”

  Alice nodded her head. “Good. Go eat.”

  Bryant’s eyes narrowed. He sat up and made no attempt to leave the office. “Excuse me?”

  “Go. Eat.” Alice sat very still in her father’s office chair. She made the mistake of glancing up and had to stifle the gasp that threatened to burst forth at her first glimpse of Bryant’s eyes. They were blue, almost grey, intense, and fringed by the darkest lashes she’d ever seen on a man.

  He was absolutely gorgeous, and she considered herself a good judge. She was only twenty-two—the same age as the man sitting across from her—but she’d been around MMA fighters her entire life. Normally, the sight of a mostly naked man, complete with muscles and sweat running between those same muscles, didn’t even cause the tiniest spark.

  It was different with the man sitting across from her now.

  The woodsy fragrance he wore had already captured her senses. But his eyes. He had eyes like the sky just after a storm. Eyes that held fire and heat and a magnetism that had to be due to his personality—to the drive that had made him an MMA fighter. He had the body of a fighter, too—lean, strong mass, long arms and legs that would give him reach, wide shoulders for strength. A great package overall. But those gorgeous eyes caught her and trapped her, and left her heart racing and sent a deep warmth through her center.

  God, I need to get away from him before I give myself away! Or before I do something stupid.

  She was not falling for a fighter again. Not ever. Scott had cured her of that forever. But her mind instantly flashed back to Bryant. She could glimpes a smooth bare chest peeking out from his shirt, muscled torso and thighs, strong arms that could pummel his opponent into submission. The way his tight fighting shorts outlined his…

  She cut off the thought. Alice felt sweat running between her breasts and cursed the need for a tight sports bra. Down girl. You are so not falling for a fighter again.

  Making a shooing motion with her hand, she held herself still until Bryan
t finally took the hint and left the office. “Shut the door on your way out,” she barked in a gruff voice.

  Once alone, she heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed her posture. She could still smell his scent in the room and found herself wondering if he smelled that divine after a hard workout. You’ll have a chance to find that out soon enough—and so what if he smells great! Great smell does not mean great person.

  Pushing the hat back on her head, she resisted the urge to pull it completely off. She’d put her hair up in a twist to conceal it beneath the cap, and she could feel rivulets of sweat pouring down her scalp and the back of her neck. God I hate feeling this way! But it was my idea. I have to remember that when I start wanting to complain!

  Shutting off the voices in her head, she pushed away from the desk and headed for her room. She’d taken the opportunity to stop by and check on her father earlier, and he’d been sleeping peacefully. The doctors were insistent that he get enough rest and in addition to numerous other pills. They’d prescribed him an anti-anxiety medication that also acted as a sleeping pill on his system. He would more than likely sleep for the next twelve hours. She was going to have to work hard to make sure Bryant only saw her dad from a distance, and only every now and then.

  She climbed the stairs to the second story and entered her bedroom. Picking up the dinner tray Marguerite had left for her, she carried it to the small sitting area located on her private deck. The logistics of pulling off this elaborate ruse with one fighter was hard, but not impossible.

  Pulling it off with two fighters in residence could prove their undoing. She poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle Marguerite had so thoughtfully provided, and settled back against her chair.

  Tavvy was the key to the success of this effort. She’d already watched Bryant Burton fight in his tapes and had designed a preliminary training regimen for him. That man needed to protect his head more. He had his last fight practically won—well, he would have won if he hadn’t gotten himself knocked out! He also needed more practice with some close-up fighting skills.

  She jotted down a few ideas as she ate her dinner. Back elbow strikes. Roundhouse kicks to the back of the thighs to weaken his opponent’s foundation. Rolling out of a takedown and ending up in full guard. So many problems she had seen in his last fight could have been corrected or avoided with the proper training.

  She finished eating and then took the back stairs down to the kitchens. Marguerite wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but Alice could hear her accepting Bryant’s compliments on her cooking.

  “Marguerite, I can see I’ll have to put in extra workouts if I am to have any hope of making my weigh-in three months from now.”

  Alice smiled at the smooth compliment and Marguerite’s chuckle in response. Tavvy laughed outright, and she had no doubt he was already thinking the fighter would be lucky to handle his standard training regimen, let alone anything extra.

  She couldn’t join the party in progress, obviously, so she returned to her bedroom, where she grabbed the tapes of Bryant Burton and a notepad. She’d already made several pages of notes, but if she wanted to pull off this deception, she needed to make sure she was always completely prepared.

  She trusted Tavvy to let Mr. Burton know how things worked around the camp and she also knew if anything came up that he couldn’t handle, he would be sure to let her know. They were in this thing together, and teamwork had never been more important than now.

  This was going to be all about business, and she was going to keep herself focused on work. And not on how Bryant Burton had set her heart pounding. Nope, it was going to be her job to get his pounding with some heavy cardio workouts.

  Chapter 4

  “So, Marguerite got you all squared away?” Tavvy asked, eyeing the young man and looking forward to putting him through his paces in the morning.

  “Yes. I’m supposed to make sure to get my sparring partner up here in the next day or so.”

  “That’d be a good idea. I’m not as young as I used to be and I haven’t done anything beyond some light bag work in years.”

  “What about Mr. Anders? He mentioned he hasn’t been feeling well, but I guess I was expecting someone a little…”

  “Bigger?” Tavvy asked, amusement lurking in his eyes.

  “Well,” Bryant said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I guess that word fits. I’ve heard about what a great trainer he is, but I had a totally different image in my mind.”

  Tavvy laughed and scooted back his chair from the table. “I hear that a lot. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your cabin. Training starts at nine o’clock sharp, and Marguerite will have a light breakfast ready around eight o’clock up here at the main house. Just enough to give you some energy for the morning, nothing heavy. So don’t feel like you have to knock, just come on in and help yourself.”

  Bryant nodded as they exited the house and he stopped to admire the view from the deck. “It sure is gorgeous up here. I can see why Mr. Anders could never be convinced to move down to Vegas or one of the other larger training cities.”

  Tavvy nodded. “His style of training wouldn’t work so well in a city atmosphere. Now, I suggest you get an early night and some good rest. You’re going to need it. Oh, and you’ll find some paperwork in the top drawer of the desk. Read through it and sign on the dotted line. Bring it up to the main cabin in the morning.” The trainer slapped Bryant on the back and took off to the opposite end of the compound, whistling as he went.

  Bryant watched him for a minute and then headed for his own cabin. His cellphone started ringing as he shut the front door and he answered it while he settled himself on one of the overstuffed chairs. He was glad to hear his brother’s voice.

  “Hey, bro. Just checking in with you. Did you convince Anders to train you?” Beck sounded cheerful as ever. The middle of the Burton brothers, Bryant sometimes thought Beck ended up being the one who’d gotten not only the good looks of every Burton but the best nature of all of them.

  But for once, his good mood matched Bryant’s. “I must have because I’m still here and I’m supposed to get Zac up here too.”

  Mason’s deeper voice pipped in. “Good for you!”

  “Am in on speaker phone?” Bryant asked, not really surprised—that was the standard for the Burton brothers whenever one of them called home.

  “How was the drive up to Oregon?” Mason asked, not bothering to respond to a question he felt didn’t even need to be asked.

  “Good. The truck ran fine.” Bryant glanced out the window at his newer model Toyota Tundra. It had been his first gift to himself after he won his first big fight, and he loved driving it. It was white, totally loaded, and the best thing he’d ever gotten from fighting in the cage. “How are things at the school?”

  “Business is good. We got a couple new guys.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Bryant said with a grin. I bet Mason’s just thrilled to have some wet-behind-the-ears kids asking him a bunch of questions!

  “Yup. All they want to do is fight and talk to girls!”

  “Fighting and girls.” Bryant shook his head. “Two things that never go well together.”

  “You’d know, bro.”

  “Yeah. Hey, I probably need to try and get a hold of Zac and see if he can still get up here for a few weeks.”

  “Sounds good. Call if you need anything.”

  The brothers finished their goodbyes. Hanging up, Bryant dialed Zac. Their conversation was quick as Zac was about to head out. But he’d promised to be in Oregon in the next two days. Zac was lucky enough to have a fantastic job that allowed him to take off for extended lengths of time to help Bryant prepare for a fight.

  That was one of the benefits of living in a small community where everybody helped out everybody else. It also helped that his daddy was the fire chief and his uncle was the mayor. Larsen, Utah was a small town of around a thousand people, located about thirty minutes outside Salt Lake City. Their proximity to the larger city made living in the
smaller town seem much larger.

  After finishing his phone calls, Bryant located the paperwork Tavvy had mentioned. He read through it several times. It all seemed fairly straight forward, except for the clauses that required him to maintain complete silence regarding Terry Anders and everything associated with his training compound.

  Bryant would be allowed to state only that he’d learned a lot, and it was one of the best experiences of his life, but revealing any details at all would throw him into a status of violating the agreement he’d just signed. Guess I can do that, although I really don’t see what all of the secrecy is about? Maybe I’ll figure that out while I’m up here.

  He ran through his normal conditioning exercises of pushups, sit-ups, and some light weightlifting using objects he found in the cabin. Then he took a hot shower and headed for bed.

  He knew that here were plenty of people who said exercise before bed was a bad idea, but it had never bothered Bryant. He always slept like a log. Tomorrow he was being given the opportunity to train with one of the best, and there was no way he was going to not measure up. No way was he going to fail. Not like his last fight. Never again.

  Chapter 5

  I’m going to die before lunchtime!

  That thought went through Bryant’s head for the tenth time in as many minutes as he forced his legs to keep moving. He’d awakened, ready and excited for the day, and after grabbing an apple, a banana, and a large cup of coffee, he headed to the training gym to work with Tavvy.

  The older man had suggested he go through his normal warm-up routine on the cardio machines, but to take it a bit easy since they would be going for a run just as soon as the boss arrived.

  A run? More like a mini-marathon! Cross-country style! Anders had shown up just as Bryant was finishing stretching dressed in baggy sweats, an oversized lightweight jacket, dark sunglasses, and a skullcap pulled down over his forehead. He hadn’t spoken a word to Bryant, but instead murmured something to Tavvy and took off running.