by Abby Niles
Crack, crack, crack, his fists hit like a machine gun. A roundhouse kick toward the head of the bag boomed throughout the room.
“Who pissed you off?”
Dante turned to see Mike leaning against the wall.
“One guess.”
The older man walked toward him. “Don’t let him get into your head. Sentori is going to do everything he can to ruffle your feathers. Anything to get you off your game.”
“He’s a prick.” Dante used his forearm to wipe the sweat on his forehead.
“I won’t argue. But whatever confrontation you had with him, just remember he can and will do worse. He likes to play mind games.”
“I don’t have anything he can play with.”
“You better hope so. Once he finds your weakness, he’ll exploit it.”
Dante nodded and turned back to the bag. Nothing Sentori could do would ruin his concentration.
He had one goal and one goal only.
Win the championship.
Chapter Five
Cait glanced around the packed Boot Scoot.
It was official.
She’d finally lost her mind. Since the day she’d met Dante, she’d worried over her sanity, and now it was confirmed. She needed to be admitted to the closest psychiatric ward.
What had she been thinking to go along with Amy’s crazy plan?
Men loitered around the club. From time to time, their gaze rested on her, appreciation in their eyes. She’d never noticed the admiring glances before, but she couldn’t pretend they weren’t there anymore. Men were actually staring at her. She sat up a little straighter, a small smile playing at her lips. Not that she really wanted to encourage any of them, but it felt good to be noticed. Damn good. But what would she do if one of the guys actually walked over and talked to her? She didn’t know the first thing about flirting. Maybe Amy’s plan wasn’t crazy after all.
She bit her lip.
“Would you stop?”
She glanced at Paul, who sat across from her. “Stop what?”
“Acting like you’re the fox in a fox hunt. If anyone should be cowering in a corner, it’s me.”
“It’s your fault I waltzed in here in these tight-ass jeans and a shirt that makes my boobs look two sizes bigger than they really are.”
“Oh, Cait.” Paul shook his head sadly. “Your boobs have always been that big.”
She smacked at the air in front of her, a laugh escaping even though she tried to suppress it. “Shut up.”
Paul was outside his own comfort zone. The fact that he was willing to accompany her for support meant the world to her. “Will you dance with me?”
Paul shook his head, holding up his Sex on the Beach drink. “Ask me after a few more of these.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “Don’t look now, but Amy has wrestled up a few wannabe cowboys for your little assignment.”
Cait glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, Amy was walking toward them between two beefy men, coming straight for them. Nerves hit her full force and her stomach clenched.
No. Amy’s plan was pure crazy.
Practice flirting?
The suggestion had made perfect sense a few days ago. Now? Not so much.
She inhaled deeply as Paul did the same.
“This is crazy,” they both muttered.
Lifting her drink, Cait asked, “In this together?”
He clicked his glass to hers. “Together.”
A large shadow fell on the table. With one more calming breath, she twisted to look at Amy.
Her friend slipped an arm through each cowboy’s elbow. “Cait, I have a couple of friends I’d like you to meet.” Amy released her hold on one of the men and placed her free hand on the other’s bicep. “This is George.”
In simple terms, George was a blond giant. Although he wasn’t bigger than Dante, his size still intimidated her. She sent him a tentative smile. “Hi.”
He winked. “Hi, yourself.”
His gaze roamed boldly over her upper body, coming to rest on her cleavage. Though Dante had done almost the exact same thing a few days ago when he’d allowed his gaze to slowly travel the length of her body. Her reaction to this man wasn’t the same. Her body didn’t heat, heart didn’t flutter, stomach didn’t grip. Instead, she recoiled.
“And this is Jack.”
This man wasn’t so intimidating. Warm brown eyes met hers and a real smile, not a leer, curved his lips.
All three took a seat at the round, wooden table. George sat next to her, his jean-clad thigh pressed into her leg. He leaned close. Distaste rose in her mouth, but Cait swallowed it. Paul sat back, frowning. Jack was studying Paul, and Amy had a satisfied glint in her eyes.
This would be a long night.
“So, beautiful, how about I buy you a drink?” George asked.
Amy motioned for her to accept.
Flirt? With this? I don’t think so.
Cait held up her half-empty Tequila Sunrise. “I’m good, thanks.”
A scowl crept over the man’s features.
Yeah, she didn’t like this guy one bit. She turned her attention to Jack. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”
Well, that sounded plain stupid. There had to be about two hundred people in here on any given night.
Amy shook her head, dismayed. Cait glared at her. What did she expect? She was new to all this, for freaking sakes.
But Cait didn’t get the oh-aren’t-you-pathetic reaction from Jack she expected. Instead, his lips twitched at the corners. “I could say the same about you.”
His brown eyes met hers. All her worries faded away.
She could “practice” with this man. There wasn’t one hint of attraction in his eyes. The indifference relieved some of her worry of coming across as a tease, or having to pretend interest in a man who did nothing for her. Unfortunately, only one man did anything for her these days— and she still wasn’t sure what to do about him.
“I’m out here a few times a month with my friends.”
Jack leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. “I’ve found it hard to meet anyone in here. How about you?”
“I really don’t come here to meet anyone. Just hang out, dance, and do a little drinking. Release some stress.”
George slid his arm around the back of her chair, the beefy appendage touching the back of her shoulders as his thigh pressed harder into hers. “I have a method for relieving stress and you don’t even have to leave the bed.”
He danced the tips of his fingers over her bicep, a suggestive leer curling his lips.
Gag me. “My current methods work just fine, thank you.”
She scooted her chair forward until his arm fell off the back of her chair. Either he was completely unaware of her disinterest or didn’t care, because he slipped his arm under the table and laid his hand on her thigh, squeezing. Cait tapped the top of his hand.
George laughed, removing his hand. “You’re feisty. I love feisty.”
Cait was about to tell him to screw off when Amy’s eyes widened at something behind her. “What?”
Amy’s mouth opened and closed before she gave a shaky breath. “Um, tall, dark, and extremely pissed just walked in the door.”
Cait followed her friend’s gaze and clashed with Dante’s piercing blue ones. Pissed was an understatement; raging mad was more like it.
Dante was standing at the entrance, eyes locked where she’d just smacked George’s hand. Her heart beat frantically. Damn, she loved it when he did the whole puffed-up defender thing—over her, of all people.
Cait jerked her head to glare at Amy. “I thought you said he wouldn’t be here tonight.”
“He who?” Jack asked.
“Brad said he wouldn’t be. They had plans. Cait, I’m sorry. I’d never have suggested this if I’d known he’d show up.”
“Why is that asshole glaring over here?” Jack asked.
George jumped to his feet. Even over the thundering music, the chair scraped noisily a
cross the wood floor. “What kind of game are you two playing?”
The venom in his voice made the table fall silent. Cait wrung her fingers together, unsure how to respond.
Paul finally broke the silence. “That’s Cait’s boyfriend. I suggest you hightail it out of here before he arrives. He has rage issues.”
At a loss for words, Cait stared at Paul before sneaking a peek at George.
Anger came off the man in waves, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Boyfriend? Bitch, do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’re getting me into? That’s the Inferno.” He shot a nasty sneer at Amy. “You knew this and brought me here anyway?”
With a muttered oath, he stalked from the table.
Cait returned her attention to Paul. “What were you thinking?”
“He’s gone, isn’t he? Dude had a serious creep level I wasn’t comfortable with.”
Yeah, her too.
“So he’s not your boyfriend?” Jack asked.
She sighed. “No.”
Paul leaned forward. “He wishes he was, though.”
“Hush your mouth,” she said.
Jack leaned forward too. “So what’s wrong with him?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m no expert on men, but he’s a good-looking guy and definitely appears interested—if the way he’s glaring over here is any indication. So what’s the matter with him?”
“I keep asking her the same thing,” Paul muttered.
Jack eyed Paul. “And you are?”
“The beard.”
Cait rolled her eyes. “Paul, shut up.”
Paul shrugged. “I am, but if the other night says anything, the man could give two shits we’re dating.”
“He knows,” Amy said.
Jack’s brows rose. “Knows what?”
“What? That I’m as straight as a fruit loop? Well, that makes more sense. I was slightly offended at how easily I was brushed aside. Not saying he couldn’t knock me out with a simple bitch slap, but still.”
Jack watched Paul closely, then he looked back at her. “Are you trying to discourage his attentions?”
Since her entire life had just been laid on the table for a complete stranger, why not add to it? “I have no idea what I want.”
“Do you want to dance?”
Cait studied the man before her. If she said yes, she’d be all but telling Dante to back off. If she said no, she might as well go sit on Dante’s lap. And she wasn’t close to being ready for something like that.
What did she want? Lord, what could she handle?
She threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Dante sat on a stool, a beer bottle in his hand, mouth tight, eyes not wavering from her table.
Excitement gripped her belly and she squashed the feeling. Why was it this hard? Most people felt an attraction and went with it. Would she still hesitate if he weren’t a fighter? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was Dante made her extremely nervous.
She closed her eyes and turned back to Jack. “Yes, I’ll dance with you.”
A little piece of her scolded her for her decision.
…
Dante frowned as the cowboy led Caitlyn onto the dance floor. Tight jeans hugged her luscious ass as she walked away from him and into the arms of another man.
She was giving a clear back-the-fuck-off message. One he had no intention of taking. Not after that kiss. He’d proven she wanted him and she couldn’t take that back now, no matter how hard she tried.
The more she denied her desire for him, the more determined he was to prove to her the combustible heat between them was undeniable.
Fuck, was it combustible. The moment her low moan of pleasure had swept across his skin, his cock had gone rock hard, driving him to coax more unquestionable signs of her desire out of her.
And damn, if she hadn’t responded to the pressure of his mouth and complied with his unspoken request.
First, by running her hands up his chest, then fisting her hands in his shirt, then tugging him closer. But the most telling of all had been the unmistakable lust darkening the green depths of her eyes after Paul interrupted them. Irrefutable responses to him no matter how much she wanted to do-si-do around a dance floor with another man.
Now he needed to figure out how to get past her defenses again and elicit those sweet moans again.
“I told you to take it slow,” Amy said as she appeared by his side. “You’ve spooked the hell out of her.”
“How? All I did was kiss her.”
“You have a funny definition of slow, Dante.” Amy sighed. “Listen, Cait isn’t used to this, okay?”
“What? A man being attracted to her?”
“Yes.” Amy stared him square in the eye. “Especially a man like you being attracted to her.”
“That’s not possible.” He gestured to the dance floor. “Look at her.”
“Just trust me on this. Back off. Get to know her.”
The sincerity in her voice grabbed his attention. There were more layers to Caitlyn than he’d realized. “What’s her story?”
“She’ll tell you if you let her get to know you. I shouldn’t even tell you this much. I really shouldn’t. I’m going against every best friend rule in the book here, but I want to see Cait happy. She feels it, Dante. The attraction. It’s there and she’s denying it with everything she has in her. So if you really want to make a go of this, back off.”
He already knew that.
Amy patted his shoulder and walked away.
Slow?
How was he going to do that?
The cowboy leaned in close and whispered to her. Caitlyn stiffened, her cheeks flushing more, but this time Dante was positive it wasn’t in excitement. Her throat worked back and forth as she nodded. The cowboy smiled, wrapped his arms around her waist, and brought her close to his chest.
Her gaze met Dante’s. For a long moment, she stared at him. Indecision and regret reflected back at him before she sent a brilliant smile to the other man. Jealousy churned in his stomach, a foreign emotion he was unaccustomed to. When she laughed at something the man said, Dante snapped. Without thinking, he stalked over to the couple and placed a firm hand on the cowboy’s shoulder. “I believe you’re dancing with my girlfriend a little too closely for my liking.”
A bold statement to make, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.
The cowboy turned, took one look at him, and held up his hands, backing away. Dante drew Caitlyn into his arms. He loved the way she fit so snugly against him.
Or would, if she’d just let go. “Would you relax?”
She glared at him. “Girlfriend? Who the hell gave you the right to call me that?”
“Seemed appropriate. You didn’t seem to keen on dancing with the man.” At first. “Thought you could use some rescuing.”
She tensed even more. “So is this how it works? You barge into my room, kiss me, and now you get to dictate who I dance with? I don’t think so.”
She pushed out of his arms and left him standing in the middle of the dance floor alone.
Okay, lesson learned. Fuck, he had to learn to control himself with her. Pulling the jealous boyfriend card didn’t work on Caitlyn Moore.
Maybe Amy was right.
Slow was the way to get those sweet, sassy lips on his again.
…
Girlfriend.
She’d liked the word coming from Dante’s mouth way too much, which freaked her out. Dante Jones was not the kind of man she wanted to be a girlfriend to. Everything about extreme fighting turned her stomach. Cait still remembered the way Brad had looked after his fight the night she’d met him: blackened, swollen eyes, one so damaged, it’d been days before the swelling had receded enough so he could squint through it, bruises on his face, and a split lip.
Training didn’t seem to spare the fighters from injury either. She’d noticed small places on Dante’s face as well: a shadowed area on his cheekbone, a puffy area at the corners of his ey
es, raw knuckles—a constant reminder of violence.
Though his wounds convinced her brain she didn’t want to be involved with a fighter, her body didn’t seem to mind his career choice and responded to his presence.
Cait stirred her drink with a thin, red straw before taking a sip, only to stop mid-draw as a thick man with purple spiky hair made a beeline for her. She swallowed, not sure if the reflex was because of the liquid in her mouth or the determination etching the man’s face as he approached. Gaze locked with hers, he stopped at the edge of the table.
“Richard Sentori,” he said, extending his hand. “But you can call me Sentori.”
His eyes bored into hers and she got the feeling she was supposed to have recognized his name. Too bad Richard Sentori didn’t ring any bells.
She took his hand. “Cait Moore.”
“Cait? Would that be short for something?”
“Caitlyn.”
“A beautiful name, for a beautiful woman.”
Crap, this was all she needed. At least he wasn’t crowding her like George had. “Thank you.”
“I saw you dancing with Dante a little while ago.”
“You know Dante?”
He slid into the seat beside hers and slung his arm across the back of her chair as he leaned in closer, his face inches from her ear. Cait shifted away. Why did men think crowding a girl made her aware of them? It didn’t work.
“I make it my business to know the men I’m about to fight. It’s the little things that let you know the kind of fighter he’ll be in the cage.”
“Oh wow. You’re his opponent.”
“Yep, Dante’s a big name among the up and comers. He’s a damned good fighter with a great reputation in the ring, and a not so great one outside it.”
“Really? Dante? Are you sure you’ve got the right guy?”
Surprise flicked across his face. “I know who I’m defending my title against.”
Touché. “Of course you do. Sorry, I just have a hard time believing Dante has a bad reputation.”
“It depends on what you consider a bad reputation. Dante likes women, but he likes the chase more. With the way you left him standing in the middle of the dance floor, you’re going to become his next conquest.”