by Claire Adams
Still, all I could think about was Kya.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Kya
I tried not to wait by the fire until Fenton got back to the suite. I left out a bottle of wine and two clean glasses and made sure the lights were dimmed. Then, I went into the master bedroom and pretended to work on my laptop. After the door opened and he came back, I forced myself to wait a full two minutes before I went out to the living room.
"I thought maybe you were still out with the golfer," Fenton said. He grabbed a plate and piled leftovers from a burger joint on it. "One of those glasses for me?"
"Yes. If you want it," I said. I sat down on the white sofa and opened the bottle of red wine.
"Sure, sounds good. Are you having any, or did your golfer spoil you with the expensive kind?"
"We drank a nice bottle," I said. "But this is the expensive stuff."
"So, how did it go?"
I put the glass of wine in front of him and then sat back before sipping my own. "Good. I think I've got him convinced to negotiate with a power tool company. Hopefully, the contract will be signed tomorrow."
"You're seeing him again tomorrow?" Fenton asked. He dropped the leftover burger on his plate and picked up his wine.
"Maybe. I don't have any other plans," I said. I gave in to the impulse that had been nagging me ever since I saw him. My hand slipped across the wide expanse of his back and rubbed up so my fingers could tangle in his black hair. "I thought I might be tired and want to sleep in after tonight."
He turned and pinned me with his laser blue eyes. "About that, Kya, I think we might have to slow down."
I pulled my hand back and dropped it in my lap. "I understand. You don't need any more distractions before the title fight."
"Exactly. Please don't read anything more into it," he said.
"I won't. But I think I'll take my glass of wine and head for bed." I stood up.
He grabbed my wrist and stood up. "I don't know how to do this, Kya."
"Say goodnight?" I asked him.
"No," his lips quirked in a smile despite his serious tone. "I don't know how to balance whatever this is and work. It’s always been nothing but work for me. It should be nothing but work until the title fight, but–"
The kiss was a sudden combustion, burning hot and bright, until we finally broke apart. Fenton was out of breath and I was blushing. He ran a hand through his black hair and gave me a rueful smile.
"So, after you made fun of me for balancing work and life, you're having the same problem," I said.
"We're having the same problem." He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tight.
I tipped my chin up so I could see his bright blue eyes. "Then, we need to set a few rules."
"Rules? Ah, fuck it," Fenton said. "Will you be my date to the fight promotion party tomorrow night?"
I laughed. "Fine, you're not one for rules, I get it. Yes, I'll be your date tomorrow night."
He kissed me one long, last time and then said goodnight. I closed the door to the master bedroom and did a silent dance of joy. Fenton wanted me to be his date! Not just waiting for him in the suite, not just there at the party, but there with him for everyone to see.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face, but woke up early in a fit of terror. A big party with lots of paparazzi was more pressure than my limited wardrobe could withstand. I had nothing to wear.
Fenton laughed when I joined him for breakfast. "Then, you won't mind that Kev had the same thought. He's bringing over a designer friend of his and she's bringing a whole rack of dresses for you to try on."
"You told Kev I was going to be your date?" I wanted to pinch myself. I had not just dreamt it, it was really happening.
"Maybe 'told' is too strong a word. Kev was already conniving for us to go together. Either you or that reality star Sienna," Fenton said.
My heart sank. Sienna was the leggy blonde Fenton had draped all over him after his last win. She was the obvious choice for the event.
"You don't have to take me just to be nice," I told him.
Fenton gave me a funny look, but before he could say anything there was knock on the door. Kev burst into the suite followed by a long rack of dresses. A shy woman with stick straight blonde hair and a sweet smile came in last and waved at me.
"Kya, I want you to meet Sandi," Kev said. "Not only is she a stylist to the stars, but she is a dress designer. She assures me she'll find you something perfect to wear tonight. And, we get to watch."
Sandi shook her head at Kev. "I said you are not allowed to watch. Nice try, though."
"And, nice try getting out of going to the gym with me. It’s cardio day, and you owe me a few miles, at least," Fenton said.
Kev was dragged from the suite and it took a few minutes before his desperate pleas disappeared down the elevator.
"Now, let's have some fun," Sandi said. She grabbed my hand and twirled me around.
"I, I just woke up. I'm a mess," I said.
"Who cares about that," Sandi said. "You're perfect. I bet I'll hardly have to alter the sample sizes." She went to the rack and pulled out a sapphire blue dress with a fringe skirt. "So, tell me how you and tall, dark, and tough met."
"Fenton? We met through work," I said. Sandi handed me the dress and expected me to try it on right there. I slipped out of my robe and was glad I had at least put on a matching bra and underwear before leaving the master bedroom.
"Kev says you've got this opposites attract thing going on, but I don't really see it. Seems to me you and Fenton Morris are on the same page," she said.
"Then, you're the only one," I said. I blushed bright red when I realized the only sense of my style she had was the racy black lace bra and underwear. "I'm more conservative and he's more infamous."
"Yeah, I'm not sure I believe his hype. Kev certainly doesn't. Do you know those two have been friends for 12 years? Fenton has always been there for him even when Kev was, well, Kev," Sandi said.
"Twelve years?" I asked. "I don't know why, but I always assumed Fenton was more of the lone wolf type. He is always surprising me."
Sandi smiled at me, but then frowned at the dress. "And, I hear you are always surprising him. Which is why that dress simply won't work. We need something a little more risqué."
I slipped out of the sapphire dress and took the pale lavender one she handed me. In the morning sunshine, it was iridescent. I tried not to love it before I even put it on.
"Wait, how have you heard so much about me and about Fenton?" I asked.
"Kev is a talker. I know, I know, he can be quite repulsive, but it’s all an act. We've gone out a few times since he came to Vegas and he keeps surprising me. I guess it’s going around," Sandi said.
I smiled at her, then gasped as I caught sight of myself in the mirrored wall near the suite door. "Wow. I mean, I can't possibly pull this off, but this dress is amazing."
"Thanks, and don't be stupid. You can most definitely pull off that dress. Kev told me you like button-up shirts and clean-pressed pencil skirts, but I told him that was all work. This dress is all play, and it is all you," Sandi said. "Plus, it will fit Fenton's whole dark hair, tattooed, bad boy playboy vibe. I'm sure he'll be wearing a black on black suit and this will be perfect against it."
I shifted my weight so one hip stuck out – the dress demanded sexy poses. Then, I twirled around and felt the shimmering material dance along my skin. I swept my hair up and considered myself in the dress from every angle.
"I can't wear something just because it looks good next to Fenton," I said. "I'm not going to let myself be one of those girls who changes just to impress a guy."
"Call me crazy, but you aren't changing a thing," Sandi said. "A minute ago, you were all smiles and appreciative glances. It was as if you were seeing yourself again after a long absence. Face it, you feel good in that dress, you feel sexy, and that is who you are."
"A good, sexy girl?" I asked.
"Hell, yeah," Sandi sai
d. She covered her mouth and giggled.
"So, I'm not the only one cutting loose in Vegas, huh?" I asked.
"I think that's the Kev effect," she said. "Being around him is encouraging me to say all the things I normally only think."
"Like Fenton is making me do all the things I normally only imagine," I said. I looked at the dress and struck another pose. "I can't believe how one short trip to Vegas has been so revealing."
"It’s the perfect place for it," Sandi said. She checked the iridescent dress for any tailoring. "I had my revelation in a North Dakota convention center. Not exactly the perfect backdrop for a life changing memory, but that's the way it goes."
I smiled at her as she adjusted the shoulder straps. "What happened in North Dakota?"
"I realized if I was going to continue being a stylist I didn't want to peddle someone else's dresses. I knew I would probably lose my base of high society matrons, but I suddenly didn't care. I was ready to start living my life, instead of thinking about it. I sewed the dress I had been dreaming about that night and posted it online. Within seconds, I had all sorts of queries and that was that." Sandi nodded to herself. "I guess I don't really care where it happened, only that it did."
"I love that – what you said about living your life instead of thinking about it," I said. "That's how I've felt ever since I met Fenton. Instead of choosing the safe path and then dreaming of all the possibilities I missed out on, I just go with my gut."
"And, what is your gut telling you about Fenton Morris?" "That he's trouble, but I think it might be the good kind of trouble. You know, the kind that could be an atom bomb, but turns out to be the first blazes of a bonfire," I said.
Sandi laughed. "Definitely not the safe choice."
"The funny part is, I've met the safe choice here, too. This professional golfer, Jackson McRay. He's everything I'm supposed to want– from a good family, well-educated, cultured, practical, and always thinking about long-term goals."
"Doesn't hurt that he's handsome and rich," Sandi said. She shrugged, "I saw his tabloid cover. Hard not for him to catch any woman's eye."
"That's exactly it," I said. "Jackson McRay is a catch. He's the man I'm supposed to choose."
She stood back and put her hands on her hips as I fell silent. "Well, come on then, I know there's a 'but' in there. What is it? Why aren't you going to choose Mr. Perfect?"
"Jackson McRay might be everything I'm supposed to want, but Fenton Morris is everything I desire." It felt so good to say it out loud that my heart soared.
Now, all I had to do was figure out how to tell Fenton.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Fenton
I made it all the way down to the lobby before realizing I had left my phone in the suite. Kev was talking the entire time about a woman named Sandi. He barely stopped when I told him we had to go back up. He was ecstatic.
"I don't think I know this Kev," I said.
"Doesn't matter, Sandi does," Kev beamed.
"I like her already," I said. The elevator opened and I saw the suite door was cracked open.
"Wait, what if we can hear some girl talk?" Kev asked. He put his finger to his lips and crept towards the door.
I swallowed the chuckle in my throat. I did not want to give away Kev's game. Then, I heard Kya's voice. She was talking about Jackson McRay.
"…this professional golfer, Jackson McRay. He's everything I'm supposed to want – good family, well-educated, cultured, practical, and always thinking about long-term goals."
"Doesn't hurt that he's handsome and rich," Sandi said. "I saw his tabloid cover. Hard not for him to catch any woman's eye."
"That's exactly it," Kya said. "Jackson McRay is a catch. He's the man I'm supposed to choose."
"I don't need my phone," I told Kev.
He immediately left the suite door and followed me to the elevator. "She said 'supposed to,' and we both know people only occasionally do what they are 'supposed to.'"
"Except Kya Allen," I said. "She lives for 'supposed to.'"
Kev shook his head and followed me into the elevator. "You broke her out of that. We should have listened more."
I chucked him on the shoulder. "You just wanted to hear Sandi talk."
"Yeah, I've got it bad and it never felt so good," Kev said. He rubbed his shoulder and smiled.
The doors opened on the lobby and the group of guys standing there punched each other in excitement. "You're that fighter, you're Morris. Man, you are a bad ass. We're trying to do Vegas your way!"
"My way?"
"Strippers, fights, man, you just do what you want. You're my hero," another man said. "We started a bar fight last night in your honor."
"Don't be stupid," I said. "What's the word? Naive. It’s all an act. Whatever crap you did last night is on you."
"Whoa, what?" the first man asked. "You're saying it’s all an act? I thought the MMA was different from wrestling."
"Same dumb fans," I said.
Kev shoved me through the group and across the lobby. "Have you lost your mind?"
"I didn't say anything crazy. I told them the truth," I said.
"Alienating your fan base the night before the title fight is no way to do business," Kev said.
"Neither is lying about who I am and making people believe I am somebody totally different," I said.
"Last time I checked, you had a short temper, loved to fight, and had an insatiable appetite for tequila and women. Oh, what a terrible double life you have been forced to live!" Kev said.
"So that's all I'm supposed to be?"
Kev wrapped an arm around my neck. "Now, I'm not saying that. I get that you want to be your best self. Hell, I'm trying to do the same thing. But I'm not going to be my best self if I throw away my entire network. People know me one way and it’s going to take time for them to realize I'm more."
"Sandi's doing that to you? Making you want to be your best self?" I asked.
"Yes. And admit it or not, Kya is doing that for you. So what if she thinks she's supposed to choose the Polo shirt wearing golfer. All you have to do is make sure it’s you she wants. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the whole opposites attract has been working for you two so far, so why destroy your image now?" Kev asked.
"What's so important about my image?" I asked. "It’s your job to manage that. I'm not playing it up for the cameras anymore. My job is the fight and that's the one thing I'm going to do."
"Fine, fine. If you want to take a backseat to handling your publicity, then you should have invited Sienna to the party tonight. You could have been on autopilot the entire time and she would have hyped you to the cameras all night."
"Yeah, but that's not real," I said. "I thought the new you would be into a marketing campaign of authenticity."
"The new me, yes. But I'm stuck as the old me until the title fight because it’s the old me that has promoted the hell out of the old you. See what I'm saying?" Kev asked.
"Yes, fine. No big changes until I've won the title," I agreed.
"Yes, thank you! Man, Sienna's producer was just talking about the same thing this morning. He was all mad because she wanted to try to change her image, go in a new direction."
I sat down at the bar. I had to laugh when the bartender automatically delivered a tequila shot. "What new image is she trying out?"
"She's gone to hit on the golfers from the tournament," Kev said. "Told her producer she looked great in pastels and sunshine. She's going to try out the whole country club scene. Maybe Kya inspired her."
"Oh, God, please don't say it."
"What?" Kev asked. "That Sienna has set her sights on Jackson McRay? What can I say, the man is like a living breathing Ken doll and everyone wants to play house with him. Or doctor. I don't know. Even Sandi says he's handsome. You heard her."
"I am sick of hearing about Jackson McRay. There's something off about him. Nothing a good punch to the jaw wouldn't cure," I said. I slammed the shot and stood up.
Kev jum
ped off his bar stool. "Whoa, wait, what's happening? That's just good old fashioned jealousy talking. And everyone knows that jealousy is the number one way to get into trouble. Didn't you just say you wanted to clean up your act?"
"And, you told me not to," I said. "So, how about I go have a conversation with Mr. McRay? Where's the golf luncheon?"
"I have no idea," Kev said. He looked over my shoulder.
"Liar. Get a cab. We're going."
Kev fidgeted the entire cab ride to the Wynn Hotel and Casino. When we got out, he tried his best to distract me.
"I hear they have a helluva pool here. How about some drinks and good scenery?"
"No."
"There's a shop here that makes custom cologne. Eau d' Marital Arts Fighter? Might be a good thing to try. Maybe you want a product line."
"No."
Kev jumped in front of me and held up his hands. "They're never going to let us in. I know I said I wanted you to keep up the bad boy image, but another run-in with security is not the way to go."
I marched up to the first photographer I saw. "You know who I am?"
"The fighter, Fenton Morris," he said.
"I need to have a little talk with Jackson McRay. Want to make that happen?" I asked.
"Yes, sir," the photographer said. He ran over and had a quick talk with the doorman, money was exchanged, and we were in.
We entered the banquet room. It was hard to tell what people stared at more – my tattoos or my jeans. I was clearly not luncheon material.
"What's wrong with this picture?" Kev asked.
"You mean besides a bunch of men in pastel shirts and plaid pants?"
"Yes, besides that." Kev turned all the way around and searched the room. "Shouldn't we be hearing a high-pitched giggle and seeing a blinding flash of camera lights?"
"So Sienna's producer talked her out of it," I said. "I still want to talk to Jackson."
"No, Sienna's producer is right there," Kev pointed.
"With her entire camera crew," I said. We marched across the room. A few golfers pulled their wives out of our way and made nervous glances towards security.