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

by EMILIE ROSE

  “Hey...hey!” Kyle was at her side. “Whoa, there. Breathe. Stay with me.”

  Bella found herself sitting in the passenger side seat with her head between her knees again. “I haven’t eaten today,” she mumbled, hands trembling. Ryan had told her not to eat before the photo shoot to keep from looking bloated.

  Kyle opened the glove compartment. Several energy bars tumbled out. “I always keep a stash of these on me. Here. Eat.”

  Shakily, she wolfed down a granola bar, then sipped the water he brought her while eating a second bar. The hard ball of emotion compacted in her chest loosened. Tears poured down her cheeks. She wiped them away hastily, disgusted she was crying when Shawnese was the one who’d been through hell. And the girl hadn’t shed a single tear.

  A sob bubbled past her lips, then another. “Merda,” she said, whipping the empty wrapper on the ground and covering her face with her hands. She hated crying, especially if someone were there to witness it.

  “It’s okay.” Kyle knelt by the open car door and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. He smelled a bit like a new car, but it was comforting. She buried her face against his shoulder and let herself cry. Kyle stroked her hair and shifted until he shared the seat with her, nearly holding her in his lap.

  “Men suck,” she said, once the sobs had subsided and she’d blown her nose. “I mean, not you...”

  “Oh, I have to agree. Men do suck.” He rubbed her back. “And I haven’t exactly been a model of chivalry.”

  She gave a mirthless laugh. “Well, you can’t be all bad. You let me snot all over your nice clean T-shirt.” She drew back and grimaced. “Sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Trust me, boogers aren’t the grossest thing that’s been on this shirt.” He still held her, stroking strands of hair away from her tear-streaked face. “Better?”

  She nodded slowly, her heart thudding hard. His eyes were a deep, soft brown with slivers of gold. His thumb brushed her cheek, and his gaze canted down. “Good.”

  Her blood and breath went still.

  They leaned in at the same time, lips meeting.

  CHAPTER NINE

  KYLE TASTED BELLA, felt her firm, warm flesh beneath his hands, but while everything in his body said, More please, his brain screamed, What are you doing?

  And it wasn’t because she had all the appeal of a damp tissue. Her red-rimmed eyes and runny nose should have been a total turnoff. But whatever part of him was reacting to her, it wasn’t his body, which was what got him into trouble most of the time. And it wasn’t his brain, which was bombarding him with a thousand reasons why this was wrong.

  All he knew was that he had to kiss her. It was an instinct as deep and inexorable as the need for warmth on a dark, cold night.

  Bella tasted like salted caramel—likely from the granola bars and tears, his brain pointed out with ruthless logic. Their mouths fit together perfectly. Her tongue darted out briefly, testing, meeting his.

  He slid deeper into the roomy sedan’s passenger seat, and she straddled his lap. Softly, then with increasing fervor, their lips met, parted, and crashed up against each other again, passion surging like the sea’s powerful tides. Her fingers raked through his hair as she pressed closer. He glided a hand along her hip. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her top, touching the silky soft skin in the small of her back. He was instantly hard, and his hands clutched her waist.

  She gave a soft moan and wiggled her bottom, grinding down.

  He sucked in a breath. It was too much—too fast, too soon, too Bella. Blindly, he leaped out of the seat, dumping her from his lap as he swallowed a strangled groan. He nearly staggered to his locked knees as the tide of heat ripped over him. Gradually, the stars cleared from his eyes.

  “Kyle?”

  He trembled, every nerve in his body on high alert as he felt the damp evening air on his skin. He turned away from her, mortified.

  “I’m sorry. We...we shouldn’t be doing this.” He gripped the corner of the car door and rounded the hood, hoping the dampness in the front of his pants didn’t show through. It was like the worst of his teenage years all over again.

  Bella didn’t say anything. He couldn’t even look at her, but he knew she was watching him, confused and probably appalled. “I’ll drop you off at home,” he said, getting behind the wheel.

  They didn’t speak on the ride back to her apartment, but the questions and regrets were as suffocating as the humidity. What kind of man would ravage Bella in the front seat of a car after the day she’d had? He knew better than to take advantage of a woman in an emotional state.

  He was a horn dog. Worse than that, all things considered.

  He could only hope the falling darkness would hide his shame.

  * * *

  IT WAS AMAZING how interesting ceilings were at three o’clock in the morning.

  Bella could still taste Kyle, could still smell him and feel the imprint of his palms on her skin. She’d eaten, showered and lain in bed for nearly four hours, all while replaying that kiss. On the one hand, Kyle’s lips had managed to wipe out the day’s drama and worries. On the other hand, she now had a whole new set of issues to contend with.

  How could he mess with her like that? If they’d gotten down and dirty in the backseat, at least it would’ve taken the edge off. But no. He’d left her riled up and panting for more, and hating herself for every stupid minute of it.

  Not that it was entirely his fault, she supposed. Mostly, she was ashamed of the fact that she’d acted on her feelings at a vulnerable moment. What did he think of her throwing herself at him when she was still in shock over the day’s horrible events? He must think I’m an insensitive... She thought hard about the word she’d first learned from reading romance books. Wanton. Yeah. That sounded better than the only other word she could imagine people using.

  Desperate to escape her thoughts, she covered her face with a pillow and squeezed her eyes shut. Her grandfather had a saying: emotions are like blood—the more you let them out, the weaker you got. Keeping yourself centered and levelheaded, containing your anger and fear—that was how you stayed strong, kept your opponents at bay.

  Well, she’d certainly failed at that. If Fulvio had seen her bawling, he’d have used it as proof against her abilities and commitment as a fighter.

  Would Kyle think the same? That she’d allowed herself to be compromised?

  She pushed those self-defeating thoughts away, but her mind didn’t stray far from Kyle. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she’d been thinking about those lips since the day she’d arrived at Payette’s. Didn’t want to admit that the distant crush she’d had on him as a starstruck youth had turned into full-out lust the moment they’d touched. She was a professional, after all, and fighting meant a lot of full-body contact. Working with Kyle should’ve been an asexual exercise.

  But things between them had changed. She’d learned Kyle was as skilled a kisser as he was a wrestler. She wondered what else he could teach her....

  She turned over and sighed. Nothing, that’s what. She wasn’t about to give in to her libido. Not if it meant losing Kyle as a coach.

  The following day, Kyle didn’t show up at Payette’s. Instead, Tito came with instructions from Kyle for Joe and Bella to practice a series of takedowns and submissions.

  “Where is he, anyhow?” Joe asked as they stretched.

  Tito shrugged. “Didn’t say. He left a message with Liz saying he’d be away for a few days.”

  “Maybe that old car of his has to be junked and he’s in mourning,” Joe said on a half laugh.

  For some reason, Bella didn’t find that funny. That car meant a lot to him. She couldn’t imagine he was quite that preoccupied with his convertible, though.

  Perhaps he’d gone to check on Shawnese. Or maybe h
e was filing a complaint against Ryan. Thinking about her agent—ex-agent, she corrected—brought a sour taste to her mouth. She’d considered going to the authorities about Ryan, but there was a chance he’d sue or press charges against her, too. That wasn’t something she needed for her career. Maybe it was best to leave it alone.

  For now, she had to focus on the fight. It was less than two weeks away, and she didn’t feel anywhere near ready. She couldn’t afford any more distractions.

  Especially from Kyle.

  * * *

  KYLE STARED AT the steering wheel, willing his heartbeat to slow, his fingers to unclench from around the wheel. He’d been sitting in the parking lot at Payette’s for almost five minutes now in the stifling heat. If he didn’t get out of the car soon, he’d get heat stroke.

  It’d been three days since that...thing had happened with Bella. Not to mention all the other ugliness of that single strange and terrible day. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Was she laughing at him? Disappointed? Angry that he’d left her twisting in the wind? She’d probably figured he was avoiding her. That wasn’t entirely untrue...but it also wasn’t the whole truth. Even so, he couldn’t keep shirking his responsibilities to the gym.

  When he walked in, Liz looked up and smiled lopsidedly. “The prodigal coach returns.”

  “I had some things to take care of.” He didn’t need to explain himself. Things had to get done, and he knew no one would approve if he told them what he’d been up to.

  “You weren’t out stalking Ryan Holbrooke, were you?”

  He whipped his head up to stare at the receptionist.

  “Bella told me.” The solemn look in Liz’s eyes indicated she knew the whole story. “I never liked him—he’s a serious creep.”

  “I should’ve banned him a long time ago. If he comes in, you scream for me or the guys. He’s not likely to show his face here, but he’s not welcome.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her reply rang with approval.

  He was barely at his desk for five minutes before the phone rang and Kyle picked up. Liz said, “Your sister, Jessica, on line one.”

  Now what? His shoulders ratcheted tight, sending pain through his neck and scalp. It’d been months since he’d spoken to Jess, and even then, their conversations had been entirely about Dad’s will. Maybe she was calling about Mom—he hadn’t heard from her lately, either. Palms sweating, he picked up the line.

  “Hey, squirt,” she greeted cheerfully. “How’s it hanging?”

  “What’s wrong? Is it the inheritance?”

  “Inheritance? What are you talking about? We took care of all that. Nothing’s wrong.” She sounded genuinely confused. “I called to say hello. I’m in New Orleans for a business conference. I thought we could meet up for dinner and drinks.”

  His muscles relaxed and he let out a breath. “Jesus, you scared me.”

  Jess’s laugh was boisterous and full throated—and always great to hear. She hadn’t laughed much as a youth. “It’s fabulous here in the French Quarter. Why haven’t you invited me to stay here before?”

  He massaged the back of his neck. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Not too busy for dinner, I hope.”

  He hedged, searching for an excuse. “Hang on a sec.” He put her on speakerphone as he moved around the room, searching for something to occupy his hands. He picked up the clipboard with the day’s schedule and flipped through it noisily. “I’ve actually been out of the office for the past few days, and I have this important client I’ve been neglecting. She has a fight coming up and I need to work with her....”

  “Well, a fighter has to eat, right? Bring her along.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if she—”

  “Remember how you used to fight with Dad about how important R & R was?”

  He blew a breath through his nostrils. Bringing up Dad was not going to sway him. “I’ve got responsibilities to her—”

  “Hey, don’t let me interfere with your social calendar,” Bella piped up from the doorway. “You talking to your sister?”

  Kyle stilled. The sight of her made his chest tighten. She wore a green-and-white tank top, and her trunks were only a couple of inches above the knee, but it was more skin than he’d seen up to now. Her bronzed, muscled shoulders gleamed with a sheen of sweat. He waved her—and his unwanted libido—off.

  “Was that her?” Jessica asked. “She sounds cute.”

  He glanced at Bella’s retreating back. “I guess. If you like that sort of thing,” he said before he could censure his thoughts.

  “My brother the Lothario is ambivalent about a woman’s looks?”

  He lowered his voice. “I don’t have the luxury to think about her like that.”

  “Ooh, touchy. So you like her, huh?”

  Heat shot into his face. “No.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re never this serious when it comes to women.”

  “Things change.” She didn’t know about Karla—all that had happened after Dad’s funeral. “Anyhow, she’s not my type.”

  “Whatever you say. So how about dinner?”

  “I can’t. I have a ton of work to catch up on.” That wasn’t even a lie.

  Jess gave a melodramatic sigh. “Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to eat all by my lonesome.”

  “That never used to be a problem.”

  “Pre-op, sure. But now...” She sighed again. Kyle couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not being a better brother. He only had himself to blame, too. Dad had forbidden everyone from even speaking to Jess, but Kyle could’ve called. Could’ve emailed pictures and kept in touch. But he hadn’t. Jess was Jess and...well, things were different now.

  “I’ll be here all week,” his sister said. “Promise you’ll come see me?”

  “I’ll do my best.” After he took down her number, he hung up and slumped in his chair. He was shaking out two Tylenols from a bottle when Bella entered.

  “I heard what you said.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “Am I really that important to you as a client?” Her lips slanted, parallel to one skeptically arched eyebrow.

  “Of course you are.” Were they really talking about this? He’d been away three long days, and she was acting as if nothing had happened. Not Ryan, not Shawnese, not that kiss...or the way he’d—

  “Come on. You don’t have to lie.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Humph.” She didn’t comment further but crossed her arms, pushing up her breasts. He shifted in his seat, remembering exactly how they’d felt pressed against his chest. “You know my fight’s next Friday, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Because considering no one else has any fights as close as mine, I was hoping to shamelessly monopolize your time.”

  Was that a threat?

  He ground his teeth. Did she think he owed her something? That what they’d shared was more than a momentary lapse in judgment?

  He fumed silently. He knew he’d regret that kiss.

  They should sit down and talk about what had happened. He should lay it out for her, let her know he’d been...what? Blind with lust?

  He gripped the edge of his desk, his thoughts running away from him. Calm down. He was freaking out for no reason. He was a professional, dammit, and he’d show her that was all he would be with her—professional.

  “C’mon.” He got up from his desk. “We need to nail your mounts.”

  “I know you’ll be able to help me there,” she said with a smirk, and followed him out.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE DAY OF the Fury Fights exhibition match, Tito and Orville escorted Bella to the event. They would stand in as her cornermen. Kyle had called and told them he’d be late—he’d been held up by a call from the national manager of the UFF gyms.


  “That can’t be good news,” Tito said nervously as they browsed the vendors’ displays at the MMA convention. The two-day event took place in an arena complex outside of New Orleans and drew a few thousand MMA enthusiasts. “Maybe we should’ve brought résumés to hand out.”

  “I’m sure it’s the usual money matters,” Orville said. “Kyle’ll pull through. He always does.”

  Bella saw the worry lurking in his eyes, though. He glanced at her and gave her a reassuring smile. “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She tried to narrow her thoughts down on her opponent, Betty Heimer. The match wasn’t for another two hours, but she had to be weighed and checked by the doctor, then she’d need time to warm up.

  Stupidly, all she could think about was why Kyle was late and whether he’d even show up for her fight. She shouldn’t care about having him here—this was only an exhibition. But he was her coach. She wanted to prove that she’d gained skills despite all the distractions and drama around them. She wanted to show him she was serious about her fighting career.

  After taking a stroll around the convention, Bella signed in and was directed to the “locker room.” Two bikini-clad girls applying a fog of hairspray and a couple of random employees occupied the washroom.

  “Bella Fiore?” A woman in her mid-thirties with tightly bunned dirty-blond hair waved at her and gave a grim smile. “I’m Betty Heimer.”

  She blinked. Oh, crap. Bella brightened her smile and nodded, but they didn’t shake hands. They’d tap gloves in the cage. That was where she’d really meet her. “Hi, Betty. Nice to meet you.”

  “Guess they didn’t figure we’d need separate rooms,” she said on a nervous laugh.

  “Guess not.” She could be polite and respectful, but she didn’t want to get too friendly with a woman whose face she’d bust up shortly.

  Betty scratched her nose. “I’ll let you get changed. Good luck to you.”

  “You, too.”

  Slowly, Bella stripped out of her street wear, pulling on her rash guard and trunks. She turned and faced the corner of the locker room, trying to drown out the background noises, the flushing of the toilets and the cage girls’ inane chatter. Meditating helped her find her center, to bury all the softest and most vulnerable parts of her psyche while donning her mental armor.