Harlequin Superromance March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Secrets of Her PastA Real Live HeroIn Her Corner

by EMILIE ROSE

  Bella gave a wry smile. Maybe she should say something to Reta. She’d know how to handle Shawnese’s situation if there was one. Plus, it wasn’t really her business. She didn’t want to put her nose where it didn’t belong and risk losing the young woman’s trust. She’d talk with Reta later.

  Bella and Quinn went to The Spot for dinner where they conducted the one-on-one interview. They sat at the bar and ate. Quinn asked questions about Bella’s background, her dreams and her current training. Bella did her best to answer them, but when it came to explaining her current relationship with the rest of the Fiore family, she glossed over a few details. Frustrated though she was with the way they’d treated her, she didn’t want to hurt Fulvio or the others.

  “So how’s your relationship with Kyle Peters?” Quinn asked.

  Bella nearly sucked her water down the wrong pipe. “I’m sorry?”

  “Kyle. He has a reputation as a harsh taskmaster. Gets it from his father, David Peters. Has he treated you differently?”

  She shifted her bottom on the suddenly too hot seat of the bar stool. “He’s been...” She tried to force out a lie. Telling a reporter she didn’t feel she was getting the best performance out of Kyle would not make him or Payette’s look good. “He’s been very good. I’ve learned a lot from him.”

  Quinn watched her carefully and turned the recorder off. “Okay, totally off-the-record. How’s your relationship with Kyle, really?”

  When Bella didn’t answer her right away, Quinn pressed on. “I’m not trying to write a gossip piece or anything. That’s not my style. You look like you want to say something but you’re afraid of the repercussions. I’m asking as a human being, now.” She lowered her voice. “Has he been inappropriate toward you?”

  She blinked rapidly. “What? No. Why would you say that?”

  Quinn fidgeted with the straw. “Rumors. He’s got a reputation when it comes to women, you know.” She paused, likely waiting for Bella to respond or ask for more details. When she did neither, Quinn shrugged. “They’re probably nothing. Forget I even said anything.”

  * * *

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Kyle was forced to admit that Ryan knew what he was doing with Bella’s career. Quinn Bourdain’s flattering article was syndicated in the Times-Picayune and had helped generate a lot of cold calls to the gym. People were interested in signing up for memberships and in supporting the gym’s good works with the community. And within three days of the article, he’d added a women’s self-defense class to the schedule.

  Word about Payette’s was spreading.

  At the health and wellness fair, which took place at a plaza mall on the northeast end of town, Bella drew a hefty crowd, signing photos and copies of Quinn’s article at the Payette’s booth. She helped with demonstrations and sparred with various members of the gym. Her looks and skills combined seemed to have converted quite a few eager young men to the sport of MMA, and a few ladies, too. They signed up a record number of new members that day.

  This was how it was supposed to be, Kyle thought with a broad smile. Fun. That was something coaching and running a gym used to be before he had to worry about membership dues and customer service and budgets and getting flyers printed and circulated around the city.

  He remembered the day Dominic had asked him to manage the place. It’d only been a few weeks after Dom had won the belt. Kyle couldn’t have been more honored and excited. The opportunity to run his own gym, even if it was owned by the UFF, had always been a dream of his. A chance to show everyone he was a winner beyond the podium.

  He watched as Bella smilingly handed another on-the-spot sign-up over to Tito. Bella’s presence had boosted revenue and morale. The guys laughed and joked with each other more. The clients were sticking around. And no one had complained about Bella in the least. He’d been wrong to think she’d cause any trouble.

  The only drawback was Ryan’s continued presence at the gym. He hung around Bella an awful lot for a guy who claimed he was a busy, important man with numerous clients. He’d even rolled up his expensive shirtsleeves and trained with her once or twice. The guy knew what he was doing, so Kyle couldn’t boot him—though he could have called him on his lack of proper gym attire.

  You sure you’re not jealous? The thought echoed through his mind in his father’s voice. Dad had goaded him frequently in order to incite a reaction, make him lose focus and catch him off guard while training. David Peters had believed the constant barrage of criticism and digs built character and forced Kyle to suppress emotions that would otherwise upset his game. As far as Kyle could tell, all it had done was give him a permanent complex.

  I’m not jealous, he told himself firmly. I’m concerned about Bella.

  After all, she needed someone to look after her in place of her father, grandfather and brothers. Maybe that was stupidly old-fashioned, but he didn’t like to think of any woman on her own in a strange place. She needed a guiding hand. It didn’t have to be his, but he’d rather it not be Ryan’s.

  “So tell me something, Coach,” Bella said as she helped disassemble the booth at the end of the day. “How is it that you’re not signing autographs or getting on the mats for these things? I mean, you’re the one with three gold medals.”

  His smile was stiff. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Not that long. You stopped competing...what, seven years ago?”

  “The leg still gives me trouble sometimes,” he said. “I try not to aggravate it.”

  “It was the knee, right?” She studied him carefully, probably saw that he had no difficulty lifting the folding table or squatting for boxes. “Must’ve been pretty bad.”

  “I had to go in for a few surgeries, so, yeah.” He didn’t want to talk about it.

  “If you’re interested, I know some exercises you could do to strengthen your knee. Marco hurt his knee a while back, too. It took a lot of rehab, but he’s walking on it fine now.”

  “The problem isn’t walking.” Kyle snapped, and immediately regretted it. Bella was only trying to help him. He had no reason to bite her head off. “I’m past my prime now, is all. Wrestling or performing for anyone else...that’s not my deal anymore.” And neither was pleasing anyone else. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

  She gave him a strange look but went on stripping the booth.

  In the mall parking lot, Kyle went to get his car. The sky was low, the clouds boiling with an impending storm. He pulled out of the space in time to see Bella unlocking her bike from a post. The first fat drops splashed against his windshield. In seconds, the sky opened up, and the rain roared against the soft top of his convertible.

  Bella stood with her bike under the plaza mall’s overhang. She stared up at the sky infuriated, as if daring it to come down and fight her. He smiled to himself. She’d probably challenge the storm cloud if it looked at her funny.

  He couldn’t leave her standing there. Kyle pulled the car up next to the curb and rolled down a window. Rain splashed him violently as he stuck his head out. “Need a lift?”

  “I’ll be okay,” she shouted over the storm. “It’s just a little rain. I’ll wait for it to pass.”

  Thunder crashed through the sky, making them both flinch. The rain poured down harder.

  “C’mon, get in.”

  “But...where am I going to put my bike?”

  He was about to tell her to leave it locked up at the plaza mall, but it was a nice bike, and he didn’t quite trust the neighborhood. “I’ll pop the trunk.”

  He got out and wished he hadn’t. The rain fell so hard it hurt. An inch of water flooded the pavement and seeped into his sneakers. He was drenched by the time he walked around to the back of the car. Bella had finagled her hybrid in, but the trunk wouldn’t close, so they spent another few minutes bungee cording the trunk shut and making sure it was secure.

 
“Hurry up and get in.” He dove into the driver’s seat and they both shut their doors at the same time. Water ran off them in rivulets, dripping all over the leather interior.

  Hastily, he grabbed his gym bag from the backseat and yanked out his towels and clothes. “Put these under you.”

  “I’m okay, I’m not that far.”

  “No, put these under you. I don’t want the seats to get ruined.”

  She stared at him as if he was crazy but took the towel and slipped it under her. He did the same with his T-shirt and shorts, then buckled himself in.

  “You really love this car, don’t you?” She pulled her ponytail back and looked as though she was about to wring it out. She must have seen his murderous look because she stopped.

  “I’ve had this car since I was twenty-one,” he said, wiping his hands dry so he wouldn’t get the leather steering wheel grip wet. He’d have to clean and wet-vac the interior after this.

  “A little present to yourself after your first gold medal win?”

  His lips lifted. “A gift from my father, actually. He promised he’d buy it for me if I came home with gold, and I did.”

  “Ah, I see now. It’s all sentimental value.”

  “Are you kidding me? Do you know what kind of car this is?”

  She glanced all around her, taking in the lines and surfaces, the sheer masculine perfection of the convertible. “It’s...an old car. With a leaking roof.” She pointed up at the drip slowly penetrating the fabric of the soft top. Kyle almost screamed.

  “Start driving,” she suggested. “It’s probably a puddle gathering up top.” She poked the ceiling. Water clung to her finger and leaked down her arm.

  Kyle quickly put the car into gear. She gave him directions across town to an address off Bourbon Street. The rain pounded the pavement, sending pedestrians scurrying. He was glad he’d caught Bella before she’d tried to ride home in this.

  Her apartment was located above a convenience store, with an outside entrance leading onto a wraparound balcony. He helped her unload the bike and insisted on carrying it up the stairs for her.

  “I can do that,” she protested. “It’s slippery on these steps.”

  “Which is why I should do it. The last thing either of us needs is for you to fall and hurt yourself before your match.” He carried the bike up easily and parked it on the landing. Bella locked it to the post.

  “Want to come in for a cup of coffee?” she asked. “I can get you a towel, too.”

  Kyle looked down at his car in the rain. If the roof was leaking, he should drive home and get it under the carport. But part of him—the part he used to listen to a lot more—said it’d be fine, that a little water wouldn’t hurt. He’d have to get the interior cleaned anyhow, and the towels and clothes he’d left to soak up the excess water should handle any more drips. The rain seemed to be letting up, too. “Sounds good,” he said, even as his instincts told him he should be doing anything but following Bella into her lair.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AS HE CROSSED the threshold, instinct seized him, urging him to be cautious.

  It wasn’t fear, he told himself, but the topsy-turvy feeling in his chest grew as he inhaled that scent that was Bella—cinnamon, sugar, cloves and baking.

  Her one-bedroom apartment was small but serviceable. Clothes were strewn on the back of the couch, over chairs, hanging off doorknobs, but she didn’t rush to pick up and clear a space for him. In one corner, a fake many-armed cactus displayed an assortment of colorful underwear. “Laundry day?” he asked wryly. An electric-blue thong snagged his gaze and he was having the damnedest time not thinking about how Bella would look in it and nothing else.

  “The dryers in the Laundromat up the street aren’t very good. I swear they eat quarters.” She started the coffeemaker and cleared a space on the sofa, tossing him a towel from the back of a chair. “Here. It’s clean. Don’t worry about making anything here wet. None of it’s mine.”

  “It’s a nice place,” he said, rubbing his hair dry. Her unique scent permeated the towel. She’d probably rubbed this towel against her naked body at some point.

  Stiffly, he draped the towel across his shoulders.

  “It reminds me of home.” She plucked her panties off the cactus and dropped them into her basket as if they were fruit.

  Fruit of the Loom, maybe. Wokka-wokka! Kyle smirked. His inner comedian hadn’t spoken up in a long time.

  “How’s it like home?” he asked, refocusing on her.

  “Well, the heat, for one. No A/C in here. But I like the way it feels. Lived-in. Like it’s been here forever and will always be here.”

  “Well, it’s a pretty lucky neighborhood you picked. This was one of the areas that Katrina didn’t get.”

  She nodded. “So a lot of folks keep telling me. It’s interesting how much people talk about it but also don’t want to talk about it.”

  He kind of got that. The ravaged landscape still hadn’t totally recovered all these years later. Reminders were everywhere. And yet, those who remained were stronger than ever. He envied the people of New Orleans and wished he had half their resilience.

  The coffee finished percolating, and she brought him a mug. Black and strong, the way he liked it. She puttered around her tiny kitchen, and he felt oddly content to simply sit and watch her as she put a plate of munchies together—carrot sticks, cubed cheese, cucumber slices.

  He didn’t want to be impolite, but a peek inside her open fridge told him she wasn’t well-stocked. A proper diet was important for training. He’d seen her eat at The Spot, so it probably wasn’t a money issue. Maybe she just hadn’t bought groceries in a while.

  “Do you have dinner plans?” he asked before he could think better of it. “I have a hankering for hush puppies.”

  She gave him a strange look and glanced back at her fridge. Had he been too obvious? “I mean, we could order in,” he clarified. But that sounded weird, too. “There’s a place I know that delivers real Creole food. Have you had any yet?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve had some. Nothing to write home about.”

  “Then you haven’t had the real stuff. I’m buying.” He dismissed her protests with a wave of his hand as he called his favorite eatery. He had the number on his cell phone’s speed dial.

  “You really didn’t have to do that,” Bella said once he’d hung up. “You already drove me home.”

  “If you don’t eat with me, the delivery boy is going to give me his pity look.”

  “You mean, you can’t find a nice young coed to share a rainy night in with you?”

  “They don’t like going out in the rain. It makes their hair frizzy.”

  Bella snickered and shook her head, her own thick black curls and all their frizziness bouncing. “Their loss.”

  Within the hour, the restaurant delivered five large take-out bags. Recognizing Kyle, the delivery boy’s smile widened, and he gave him a sly look as his gaze slipped past him to Bella. Kyle tipped the kid and shut the door.

  “How hungry are you?” Bella exclaimed as he carried the food to her kitchen. “What is all this?”

  “All the best things on the menu.” He placed the bags on the table. “What can I say? I don’t like doing things in half-measures, and I’m starving.”

  They opened container after container, and Kyle named each of the steaming, mouthwatering dishes. Jambalaya, gumbo, hush puppies, boiled crayfish, rice and beans, and for dessert, a greasy bag of powdered-sugar-covered beignets.

  “Good thing I’m below weight right now,” she said with a laugh. “Otherwise I’d have to turn down all this food.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll work it off somehow.” He snapped his jaw shut. He hadn’t meant it to sound like a come-on. “Anyhow, you could use the calories. Today was a tough day. You
can hang on to the leftovers, too. Most of this stuff is healthy...ish.”

  “Twist my arm, why don’t you?” She reached for a plate and loaded it up.

  They chatted about the gym, keeping things light. Bella told him about some of the things Ryan had been doing for her. Apparently, her agent was working on a big sponsorship deal with Silverstreak, the energy drink company that also sponsored Dominic Payette. Kyle was instantly suspicious. It seemed pretty early in her career to get that level of sponsorship.

  “So how are things with your family?” he asked casually, trying to keep conversation flowing.

  Bella paused, a spoonful of rice and beans in her mouth. She chewed slowly and replied, “Fine, I guess.”

  “You haven’t talked to them?”

  She swallowed. “I talk to my mother every night, but otherwise, no. We had a bit of a fight before I left. By we, I mean my grandfather and I. And when Fulvio puts his foot down, so does the rest of the family.”

  “Oh.” He felt guilty for asking. He could imagine the pain this was bringing up. “I’m sorry to hear that. We can talk about something else.”

  “It’s okay.” She sighed. “Mom keeps me up-to-date on what’s happening back home. Business as usual, according to her.” She sounded sad about that. Though she’d left them, knowing life went on with the rest of the clan couldn’t be all that comforting to hear.

  Silence dropped between them as they chewed. The air grew close, and Kyle shifted in his seat. He felt as if he were on an awkward first date. Which this wasn’t.

  “So, do you have a boyfriend back home?”

  His eyes bulged and he slammed his lips shut, while Bella stared at him as if a roach had crawled off his tongue. Why, oh, why had he asked that question? “Sorry. That’s too personal....”

  She raised a hand, looking almost relieved to be talking about something. “I came off a long-term relationship a little over two years ago. Then I got busy training and...well, I haven’t found anyone. I mean, I’ve gone on dates, but no one’s stuck.”