The Beat and The Pulse Box Set 2

by Amity Cross

  “I needed to get away,” she replied, edging around the desk, so it was between us. A shield.

  “You didn’t need to run, Jo,” I murmured.

  “Who said I was running?” she snapped, beginning to fire up exactly like the Josie I knew. “I needed a break. It was long overdue.”

  “You left without telling anyone,” I argued. “Right after…”

  Her eyes narrowed in warning, but I didn’t care. I knew her well enough to know she’d never talk to me about it unless I forced it out of her. I didn’t know whose stubborn pride was worse. Hers or mine.

  “Right after you tried to kiss me,” I declared, stepping closer.

  “So?” she asked. “You made yourself perfectly clear. I got over it.”

  I snorted. “You got over it? In three days?” The fire in her eyes told a different story.

  “It was probably for the best,” she said awkwardly, smoothing her palms over her hips. She was straightening her top, but the movement looked fascinatingly sexual to me. Her gaze met mine again. “Conflict of interest.”

  Was it a conflict of interest that I’d done nothing but worry about her for the last three days? Was it a conflict of interest that I’d kicked myself time and time again for not kissing her when I had the chance? Was it a conflict of interest that I’d jerked off thinking about her? Fuck the line of professionalism. She’d opened my eyes, and I’d stuffed up already.

  “Jo,” I murmured, closing the distance between us. “I’m sorry. I didn’t handle it well. You said it yourself. I’m fucking stupid. I don’t know how to do this shit.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” she said stiffly. “I took a risk, and it didn’t pay off. That’s life. It happens all the time.”

  I raised my hand to touch her, to pull her back from whatever conclusion she’d jumped to, but she took a step back. Then I took a step forward, my gaze flickering to her mouth. My dick began to thicken as her tongue darted out and ran along her bottom lip, the motion punctuated by her teeth dragging against her damp skin.

  “Jo…”

  She shook her head, her eyes pleading. Did she want me to take her because I would…right against the window, or did she want me to stop?

  “Tell me what you want,” I murmured.

  “I…”

  I was a hair’s breadth from finishing what she’d started the other morning when her mobile phone started to ring shrilly in the silence.

  Josie snapped to attention, and I moved away, whatever was about to happen dissipating as the storm broke over the beach below. Rain pounded over the sand in waves until it doused the city around us, thumping against the glass.

  “This can’t…” she began, picking up her phone and checking the screen.

  I scowled, fisting my hand through my rumpled hair. “If you say so.”

  “Dean…” The phone stopped ringing, and she sighed, sliding it back onto the desk.

  “You’re telling me you didn’t feel that?” I asked, jabbing a finger in the air between us.

  “It’s probably for the best,” she said. “What happened the other morning was a lapse in judgment.”

  “Which I seem to have all the time, apparently.”

  “It’s for the best,” she added, ignoring my self-absorbed barb.

  Snorting at the irony of the entire situation, I stormed out into the gym, slamming her office door closed behind me. The sound was echoed by a crash of thunder right above the building, the shock wave making the windows rattle.

  Grabbing a set of dumbbells, I sat on the bench facing the view of the storm, placed my right elbow on my knee, and began lifting. Lightning raced across the sky as my frustration grew, doing nothing but supercharging my need to fuck Josie up against the window.

  The outside door opened, letting in a blast of damp air, and my brother appeared, looking like a drowned rat.

  “Hey,” Linc said, his tone way too cheery after the scene that had played out in Josie’s office.

  I grunted and switched to my left arm.

  “What’s up your ass?” he asked. “You got a feather up there tickling your balls or something?”

  “Jo’s back,” I said, nodding toward the far corner where I knew she was sitting, probably cursing the day the egg split in my mother’s womb and created two of us.

  Lincoln groaned and slapped me on the back of the head. “Don’t tell me you’ve pissed her off already?”

  “She left without telling anyone,” I replied. “I was worried about her. Turned out she didn’t need worrying over.”

  “Wow.” His mouth fell open.

  “Shut the hell up,” I snapped. “You tell me to take more notice and I still fuck it up. I’m just keeping my mouth shut from now on. It’s for the best.” I echoed Josie’s words and felt the bile burn the back of my throat.

  I could still feel him lingering beside me, and I knew he was about to ask another dumb question.

  “What’s going on with you two?”

  I ground my teeth together, focusing on my repetitions. There was no way in hell I was telling him or anybody about what happened the other morning. Josie in my lap, grinding against my hard-on, her lips brushing against mine… That moment was between Jo and me. No one else.

  “I was trying to make good,” I replied. “Turned out the only thing I needed to do was tone down the inappropriate public appearances.”

  He laughed and backed away toward the little kitchenette. “Well, keep it in mind. I know you’re still sore about the fight.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the dumbbells. I hadn’t thought much about Gabe O’Connell in the past few days. Not since Josie did a runner. Now that Linc had brought it back up, it began to sting my pride more than ever.

  I’d lost to the man who tried to poach Josie away from us. From me. The asshole had said some nasty things about her in the octagon, and I wondered if he was going to follow through and try to seduce her to his side. I sure as fuck hadn’t done much to help tilt the situation in my favor. Not even confronting her had changed anything.

  Did I want to let her go like this? Wasn’t the more part all about a different kind of fighting?

  I’d seen Linc go through it with Violet. He’d almost missed out on his title fight going after her when that Andrea chick tried to throw herself at him. Fighting was his entire life, same as mine, but he’d risked everything for Vee. Later, he’d told me he didn’t give a stuff if he lived in a cardboard box on the street as long as he had her. Deep down, I wanted to know what it felt like. To love somebody.

  If I truly wanted Josie like Linc wanted Vee, then I had to fight.

  Did I want her enough to risk losing her for good? I stared out over the ocean, my mind mulling over the ultimate question. The storm had cleared out as fast as it had appeared, the sky brightening with patches of blue. The water was still whipped up into a frenzy, and the surfers crowded the breaks down on the beach, fighting for a ride in the perfect conditions.

  Yeah, I wanted to risk it.

  I had a real chance with Josie. Something was there, I could feel it all around, and I didn’t want to let it go without trying to figure out if it was forever, but the problem was trying to make her see that I was genuine. That I was serious and not fucking around.

  Josie was all about grand gestures. If I was going to make a play for her, it had to be at the Gala on Saturday.

  Women loved fairy tales, right? She loved dressing up and dancing. She’d tried to make me dance at Ash and Ren’s wedding the other week, laughing at the panic on my face. It was right after I had found her upset in the house, reeling over breaking up with Hamish. She’d wanted to dance with me. I should’ve seen it then, but Monica Miller had shown up and split my focus.

  Bloody hell.

  If I wanted Josie to see I was serious about this, I had to make the Gala her ultimate fairy tale…

  Or die trying.

  11

  Josie

  When I’d left my apartme
nt, I felt like a princess.

  Standing on the street out the front of the Gala all done up in my gown, I felt like an outsider. Cinderella on acid…without a fairy godmother.

  Car after car dropped off guests as I stood to the side with all the other PRs and assorted media representatives, watching the glamorous commotion unfold before us.

  I wasn’t surprised to be standing here since it’d been the same way for the last two Gala’s, but this time, it felt like a kick in the ass. Especially since certain things had changed.

  “Josie!”

  I smiled as Jasmine Cutter approached, dressed in a red, silky dress that fit her perfect body like a glove. Paired with her long chestnut hair twirled up in a fancy updo, red lips, and glittering diamond necklace, she made me want to puke.

  Jasmine was one of the executives of Tightrope, the charity hosting the Gala, and I’d dealt with her on many occasions, setting up meets and training days with the Twins. She was a woman at the top of her game, professionally and personally. One hundred percent beautiful and smart. Totally one of those annoying people who were good at everything they did and were genuinely nice.

  “How are you?” she asked, leaning forward to air-kiss me on the left and right.

  “Fine,” I replied, plastering on my PR face. “And you? You’ve got a great turn out tonight.” I nodded at the crowd filing into the ballroom and the flashing cameras along the front of the building capturing the athletes and celebrities as they arrived.

  “It just keeps getting better year after year,” she gushed. “We’ve already smashed last year’s donations, and hopefully, we can add some more tonight.” She glanced around and laid her hand on my arm. “Are the Twins here yet? I’d love to see them before the night gets too busy.”

  I swallowed a lump of jealousy and smiled. “They’re coming in now.” I gestured toward the line of cameras where I could see the backs of the Twins’ heads.

  They had their arms around one another’s shoulders hamming it up for the press as per their usual routine. So far, Dean had been a real upstanding member of society and hadn’t stuffed up once…but the night had only just begun.

  I watched on with a pang of longing as Lincoln peeled away from his brother and took Violet in his arms. It wasn’t my job to stand up there with them. It was my job to hang back in the wings and watch, no matter how much I wanted to be on the arm of a certain fighter.

  I belonged back here.

  “Great,” Jasmine cooed. “It was really great to see you again, Josie. I’ll be in touch about the next training day.”

  I nodded, plastering on a fake smile. “Sure thing.”

  My eyes narrowed as I watched her sashay across to Dean, willing her to trip over. I was sure they’d had a fling in the past because when she looked like a Monica Miller clone, it was a sure thing with him even if Jasmine wasn’t clued up about it.

  Dean turned as she called out to him and smiled widely at her. She placed a hand on his arm and laughed as he said something, and it was just as perfect as she was. Then they turned to the cameras and had a few photographs taken together. Together meaning pressed up against one another like a couple.

  Turning, I threaded through the other corporate junkies standing around me and ventured inside so I didn’t have to witness perfection anymore.

  Hello service entrance. I was such a reject.

  Lingering in the main foyer, I watched the couples filing into the ballroom. Within, I knew there’d be an elegant spread of fine wine, canapés, and live music waiting.

  I smiled politely as I caught the gaze of the current AUFC welterweight titleholder leading his girlfriend inside. Following him was a familiar face I’d seen in the papers. An Aussie Rules footballer. The whole place was littered with professional athletes from all kinds of sports. Men and women who were at the top of their chosen field had come out in droves.

  And every single one of them had someone on their arms. I squashed down another pang—this time, it was longing—and smiled at another fighter who crossed my field of vision. All those people out there in the world and I had to keep choosing the wrong ones. When would I find the right one?

  I blinked away the sting of tears that had sprung unexpectedly into my eyes and jumped a mile when I realized Dean was standing beside me.

  “Jo,” he said, looking sexy as hell in his suit.

  Instead of wearing the traditional tux many of the men had on, he’d opted for a gray shirt with a silver pinstripe and a solid black tie, which was a little loose around the collar. That was Dean Hayes, though. Forever breaking the mold.

  “I looked for you outside,” he said, his gaze lowering to my overstated cleavage.

  “Oh…” I began awkwardly, but his mouth practically fell open and gaped as he took my appearance in for what felt like the first time in his entire life.

  “You look…” He shook his head, returning his gaze to mine. “Stunning. That dress…” He reached out and ran the tip of his finger along the seam that ran across my stomach. The seam that began at my shoulder, ran over my breasts, and finished at my navel.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, edging away.

  He frowned. “I wanted to walk you in, but you’d already disappeared.”

  I wasn’t sure what his intentions were, but I attempted a smile and said, “I forked out for the queue jump ticket.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he murmured.

  I scoffed, shoving away the tiny spark of hope that had ignited in my heart. “Are you still on this?”

  He stepped forward, lowering his voice as a couple walked past us and into the ballroom. “Jo, you need to listen to me.”

  “I can’t,” I hissed. “We said everything that needed to be said the other day.”

  “Nope, you did all the talking, Jo. You didn’t even listen to a single thing I said.”

  Maybe he was right, but it still didn’t change anything. I was still making bad choices, and he was still conflicted over his long-standing feelings for a vapid bitch, no matter what he said.

  He was wrong about one thing. I had listened to him when he cornered me in my office. My biggest problem was I didn’t believe a single word he’d said. He was only looking now because I’d practically offered him sex he didn’t have to work for. I was a sure bet. Unlucky for Dean Hayes, I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

  “I’m going in,” I declared and stalked away, not waiting for him to follow.

  Stepping into the ballroom, I threaded through the wall of guests, doing my best to lose Dean in the scrum. Hopefully, someone would pull him aside for a chat long before he caught up. I needed a stiff drink.

  A waiter paused in front of me with a tray, and I plucked a flute of champagne from it.

  “Don’t go too far,” I said to him, and he smirked knowingly.

  Sipping on the sweet champagne, I lingered behind a tight-knit group of footballers and stared past them to the dance floor. Couples were swaying to the music, which was provided by an ensemble of string musicians, consisting of violins and cellos.

  Maybe it was sappy, but I wanted to be out there in the arms of a man who wanted me. I wanted to know what it felt like. That was my fairy tale. Not the service entrance.

  “Josephine Cunningham.”

  I almost dropped the flute of champagne as a deep voice boomed in my ear, and when I turned to scold whoever it was that my name was Josie, I copped an eyeful of the last jerk in the world I wanted to see.

  Gabe O’Connell stood beside me with a wicked grin plastered on his face. I instantly wanted to throw up at the thought of what I’d almost done with him last weekend.

  “May I?” he asked, offering his hand to me.

  I glanced at his outstretched palm then back to him and curled my lip. “No thanks.”

  “C’mon. Just one dance, and then I’ll leave you alone.” I hesitated, and he winked. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

  “Since when do fighters dance?” I asked, giving him the once-ov
er. His movement in the octagon was fluid and precise, but it didn’t mean it’d translate to an elegant dance floor.

  He smiled. “There’s no difference between knowing how to please a woman in bed and how to seduce her on the dance floor. They are all the same moves.”

  I raised my eyebrows and snorted. “Wow, you’re a real piece of work.”

  “Are you going to dance with me or not?” Gabe asked, wiggling his fingers.

  Narrowing my eyes, I placed my glass onto the tray of the waiter who’d lingered as I’d asked, turned back to Gabe, and grabbed his hand. Dancing with the enemy. That’d teach Dean for trying it on with me while still hanging out for another woman.

  “Pushy,” Gabe drawled. “I like it.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried not to vomit all over his tuxedo. “Get over yourself.”

  He laughed and wrapped his left arm around my waist, and curled his right hand around mine. Reluctantly, I placed my hand on his shoulder and allowed him to have his five seconds. If I continued to fight, I might get him hard, and then how was I going to get rid of him?

  He began to move us back and forth to the music, obviously proud of himself. As he worked his body against mine, I began to see what he meant about seduction. I knew he’d be good, but his arrogance let him down big time.

  “I told Lincoln about the challenge,” he said, enjoying having me in his arms a little too much. “Tomorrow it’ll be official.”

  “That’s a little unorthodox,” I replied.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t tell him yourself.” He smiled knowingly, his fingers tightening around my waist.

  “Are you implying something?”

  Gabe raised his eyebrows but failed to hide his amusement. “No, not at all. Though I would like to pick up where we left off.”

  “Oh, the part where I said no and slammed the door in your face?”

  “You liked it, Josie,” he murmured. “Don’t deny it.”

  “You just keep it to yourself,” I hissed. “It’s never going to happen again. Not in a million years.”

  “So you didn’t tell the Hayes Twins about our little tongue wrestle,” he mused, raising his eyebrows. “Interesting.”