The phone was yanked from her hand, and Katie whipped her head around as Cole disconnected the call. He looked positively livid. His jaw was clenched tight. The hard lines bracketing his mouth accented the dark scowl. His sapphire eyes that burned with something akin to possessive rage.
A part of her was furious he dared to intervene by doing something so high-handed. But another part of her wanted to throw her arms around his neck and pepper his face with kisses. She should thank him for stepping in and doing something she should have done herself, but just the sound of that bastard’s voice had ripped Katie back into that paralyzing fear, rendering her powerless to act or defend herself.
“You don’t need to listen to that.” Before he could give her phone back, it began to ring in his hand and Cole didn’t hesitate to pick up the call. “Hello?” It was more a demand than a greeting—brisk, commanding. Oh God, what was he doing? If Carter knew Cole was here with her, he’d absolutely lose it.
“She’s right here. Okay. I’ll tell her.”
Cole hung up the phone and handed it back to Katie. Her heart was hammering so loudly, she barely heard him say, “Your mom wants you to bring them some orange juice in the morning.”
Who in the hell had Katie gotten herself tangled up with? By the sounds of it, and the look of terror that crossed her face when she picked up that call, Cole would guess a persistent ex. Was it the guy who’d been at the bar tonight? Considering she was sporting the same look of terror, it wasn’t too damn hard to wager a guess.
He hadn’t been eavesdropping—oh hell, who was he kidding? If he’d strained any harder to hear her conversation, he’d probably have popped an eardrum. If he had any doubts a jaded lover was on the line, there certainly wasn’t any question after that assclown professed his love and then promptly called her a fucking bitch. Real smooth . . . Keith Stone smooth. That oughtta soften her up, Romeo.
It hadn’t been difficult to follow her conversation; the bastard’s voice had echoed from her phone like a bullhorn. Apparently, he was “trying.” If that was trying, Cole hated to see what the antithesis of that would be. But then the yelling had begun, and that was where Cole had drawn the line. Katie might not be his responsibility, but for reasons he had no interest in exploring, she lit up his protective instincts like the freaking Fourth of July, and he’d be damned if he was going to sit here and let some dickwad talk to her like that.
“That the guy from the bar?” he asked, already suspecting as much and not expecting her to answer, so it surprised him when she nodded. “Same guy who sent you the flowers?”
She nodded again, her stare fixed on her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Then she surprised him when her gaze snapped up, locking on his. “Why did you do that?” she demanded.
“Do what?”
“Take the phone from me. When you answered, you didn’t know my mother was going to be on the other end—and we’re both lucky she was, because believe me, my life is one hornet’s nest you do not want to stick your hand into.”
“Are you trying to scare me? Because if you are, it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a pissed-off stalker boyfriend to do it. Although I gotta say, you don’t seem to have the best luck with guys, do ya?”
She let out a bark of unamused laughter that sounded a bit on the hysterical side, but at least it was something, which was what he’d been going for. Adding to the gravity of Katie’s situation by going all commando on her was not going to be helpful. He’d gotten that message loud and clear in the car tonight. She wasn’t going to help him help her, but if he could keep it light, tease her a little bit, maybe she’d let her guard down long enough for him to learn a thing or two about just how serious this situation with her ex might be. His instincts were telling him it was pretty damn bad.
“Is it that obvious?” she asked, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Sorry. It is. You’re kinda like a shit magnet for crazy, huh?”
She laughed again, a little more genuine this time, and damn if that light, feminine giggle didn’t do funny things inside his chest and farther south. The urge to reach out and tuck that fallen lock of pale blonde hair behind her ear was nearly too much to resist.
“I guess so. I’m not sure what that says about you, though.”
Her wit was so damn sexy. It wasn’t hard to see how this woman could drive a man crazy. After only two days with her, he was already falling under her spell. Katie stirred something inside him Cole never knew existed, and he wasn’t entirely pleased about it, either.
“Are you kidding me?” Cole sat down beside her and teasingly bumped her arm with his shoulder. “Sweetheart, no one’s crazier than me. It just depends on what kind of loco we’re talking about.”
Katie watched him a moment, curiosity brimming in those emerald eyes. “Have you ever been in love, Cole?”
Wait, what? Well, that certainly escalated quickly. Cole wasn’t in the habit of talking about himself, but he also knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of her opening up to him if he didn’t at least make some sort of an effort first. “I thought I was—once. But then it ended up being the stomach flu.”
Katie laughed, a sweet belly laugh, and the sound of her melodic voice was like audible foreplay that shot straight into his cock. Damn, he wanted her. Everything about this woman intrigued him to the point of madness—her intelligence, her beauty, her vulnerability. Hell, even the mystery surrounding her called to the competitor inside him. But something told Cole if he accepted this challenge, the stakes were going to be a lot higher than a title match. He’d be fighting for his heart, because without even trying, in a matter of days, Katie had managed to pass his guard and was laying some serious ground and pound against his defenses.
“Come on, now. I’m serious. Tell me what kind of a woman manages to steal Cole Easton’s heart.”
Look in the mirror, sweetheart . . .
Katie sat back on the couch and tucked her feet beneath her, settling in for what she probably expected would be a juicy, torrid love story. The look of rapt fascination on her beautiful face almost made him want to make something up. This was a hell of a lot better than the fear she’d worn a few minutes ago. “Tell me,” she pleaded.
He shrugged. “There isn’t anything to tell. I was just joking around. I’ve never been in love.”
She looked at him like he was some sort of a freak or something. “Seriously? Not ever? How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“And you’ve never been in love?”
“Nope.”
“Not ever?”
“Never.”
“Jeez, what’s wrong with you?” Her top lip curled up into a teasing grin.
“Nothing. I thought. But now you’re starting to make me wonder. You gotta understand, my line of work doesn’t exactly attract the long-term type of girl, and if a guy is lucky enough to find one in Sin City, it isn’t very long before the cage bangers run her off.”
Damn, she had a beautiful smile—full shell-pink lips and straight, white teeth . . . This woman had a mouth that could bring a man to his knees.
Her delicately arched brow hiked even higher. “Okay, what’s a cage banger?”
“It’s what we call the MMA groupies.”
“That’s . . . lovely.”
He shrugged again. “It’s life in the fast lane. Most of the time my training keeps me too busy to think about what I might be missing out on. What about you?” He lifted his brow in challenge. “Quid pro quo?”
A shadow of sadness crossed her face, and he felt like a dick for putting it there, but he wanted to know about her past, what secrets was she hiding.
“I thought I was in love—once. I was wrong. End of story.”
Yeah, he seriously doubted that. “Hey, I just confessed to being a man-whore. The least you can do is tell me about it.”
Her smile chased away those shadows, and the knot of guilt fisting his gut loosened just a touch.
She
shrugged. “I already knew that though. I mean, according to the Enquirer, you are Hugh Hefner’s illegitimate son, so . . .”
Cole laughed. It was so not funny, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Those damn tabloids had caused him so much grief over the last several months. He certainly wasn’t missing the paparazzi, that was for sure.
Katie’s sense of humor was surprisingly sarcastic and witty—much like her uncle’s. In fact, the more time he spent with her, the more it was like hanging out with a very hot version of Marcus. It was comfortable—familiar. Perhaps that was why he felt so at ease with her, like he’d known her for years rather than just days.
Katie reached over and laid her hand on his thigh, giving him a friendly pat that effectively derailed his train of thought. The cat must have thought she was calling it over, because Scarlet came bounding into the living room and leapt onto his lap. The cat immediately began purring and kneading his legs with her declawed paws. Katie smiled as she scratched the cat’s ears. “Well, Scarlet certainly likes you. And that’s saying something. Siamese tend to be one-owner cats and very possessive. She seems to have claimed you for her own.”
“Competition getting too tough for you?” he teased.
She laughed. “How did you know? I give up. There’s no use even trying to compete with that.” She nodded to the cat that was now rolled over in his lap, feet up in the air, rubbing her head against his thigh, dangerously close to his groin.
“Oh, come on now. You could at least try,” he said, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably.
Katie busted out laughing. “You are a man-whore. Propositioning me right in front of poor Scarlet.”
He laughed, thoroughly enjoying her quirky sense of humor. It was just one more glaringly obvious difference between Katie and the other women he was used to being around. She was genuine—authentic—having no agenda other than to help him fight again, and damn if that wasn’t hell on his defenses.
“But seriously, I want you to know that I’m glad you’re here, Cole. I think you’re doing amazingly well, considering your injuries. I’m really pleased with your eval today, and I’m confident I can get you back into fighting condition.”
She brushed her hand over the cat, leaving it to rest on his leg. The heat of her touch seared up his thigh. His flesh swelled, straining against his gym shorts. Before she could think better of it and move her hand, he laid his over hers and laced their fingers. “I hope you’re right.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles, drawing her anxious gaze to his thigh. She moistened her bottom lip before catching it between her teeth. A surprising amount of anxiety radiated from her. What was that all about? Katie looked about as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night. Not that Cole had any intention of sleeping with her. Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He wanted to fuck her so damn bad, it was all he could think about—but he wouldn’t let his mind go there, even if his body was more than game.
Her pulse was ticking wildly in her throat, with that deer-in-the-headlights look settled on her beautiful face. She’d already shot him down once today. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity?—doing the same thing over and over again, expecting to get a different result. Perhaps it was the thrill of the hunt that intrigued the alpha male in Cole so much—the challenge of whittling Katie into submission. She was so unlike any other woman he’d met.
Her hand felt fragile in his, so small and dainty. What was she so afraid of? Was it him or something bigger? Pound for pound, he dwarfed her, but she should be used to working with athletes, so it couldn’t be his size that had her tensing beside him. He wasn’t accustomed to women reacting to him like this. Usually, they were tearing at his clothes and throwing themselves at him. Unless . . .
“Do I frighten you, Katie?” Guilt flashed in her eyes when they briefly met before dropping to the floor. Goddammit. Fucking De’Grasse . . . Now that Hugh Hefner comment made a lot more sense, and it wasn’t nearly so funny.
“You can’t believe everything you read, Katie. I didn’t hurt that woman. I was set up.” A flash of anger tore through his veins. Why in the hell was he sitting here explaining himself to her? He let go of her hand and moved to get up. The cat let out a surprised, protesting mewy squawk, before hopping to the ground and darting away. Katie grabbed his bicep, her grip surprisingly strong. He turned his head and looked back at her. “What?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t about you, Cole. It’s me. I’m . . . damaged.”
The look in her eyes was so sad—so defeated. The invisible band around his chest squeezed until his heart ached. Cole swore if he ever saw the man again that had done this to her, he’d kill him. Already, he could feel Katie yanking up those walls. Before she could get them fully in place he sent a jab at her defenses. “Maybe you should talk about it, you know? The first step is letting someone in.” Hell, was he really suggesting that someone be him? Guess so, because in the next breath he heard himself saying, “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know very well.” He told himself it was because of Marcus he cared so damn much. He owed it to the guy that saved his life to do what he could to help his niece.
“Sometimes it’s easier not to open old wounds,” she countered.
“Emotional wounds are like broken bones, Katie. If they’re not set right, they’ll heal wrong, and that bone will always be weak.”
“Well, I’ve had more than my share of broken bones, and you’re here so we can focus on yours, so how about we stick to that, huh?”
Katie pulled her hand out of his and the loss of contact was like a knife slashing through his gut. He liked the feeling of her touch—far too much, actually. For some inexplicable reason, she soothed him and stirred him at the same time. He silently watched her as she unfolded herself from the couch and headed for her bedroom.
“Good night, Cole.”
As she walked away, he wondered if those broken bones had been literal or metaphorical. If he had to venture a guess, he’d say both.
Katie woke the next morning to the whirr of a blender and the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours, and exhaustion rode her hard. Between the thoughts of Cole sleeping across the hall—naked, no doubt—and the phone call from Carter, she’d pretty much given up all hope of rest by the time three a.m. rolled by. Somewhere around four she might have dozed off, only to have her dreams filled with a certain MMA fighter who was proving to be far more of a distraction than she wanted.
She hadn’t let a man touch her since Carter, and the dry spell must be getting to her. She’d woken in a sweat-drenched pant, her back arched, breasts reaching to connect with that solid wall of muscle that only moments ago had been pressing down on her as Cole’s mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss. His hands gripped her hips, fingertips biting into her flesh as he anchored her to the mat, driving into her with reckless abandon—filling that void in her heart as well as between her parted thighs. He swiftly drove her to the pinnacle of release. His mouth was masterful, his flawless body ruthlessly demanding . . . Just as she’d reached her crescendo, the blender blasted to life, tearing her out of Cole’s arms and back to reality.
She’d almost cried out at the injustice, and in a fit of temporary insanity, briefly considered walking into that kitchen to make her dream a reality. She knew Cole wanted her. She’d have had to be blind not to see the hunger burning in his eyes when he looked at her last night. But nocturnal trysts were far safer than the real thing. Even if she’d been brave enough to let down her guard long enough to give herself to Cole, she knew she would have chickened out before she even reached the living room.
Of all the blasted timing . . . How many months had gone by without her body craving the slightest hint of a man’s touch? Months—too many to count. And now, seemingly overnight, Cole had managed to flip her switch, awakening her body to thoughts and desires she’d believed long dead and buried.
Katie wasn’t sure whether to rejoice in the discovery that
she wasn’t entirely broken after all, or bellow in sorrow because of all the men her body could have chosen to awaken to, it’d picked the one man she could never have. For all the reasons Cole had admitted last night, he wasn’t long-term material. This . . . whatever this was, was only temporary. Once she got him on his feet and fighting again, he’d leave her, going back to the MMA circuit, to his life in the fast lane, and to his—what did he call them? Oh, yeah, cage bangers. It was foolish to set her sights on a man who’d never even been in love—the women, the fame, the partying, the camps . . .
She was stupid to think there was even a chance he’d give it up if something between them were to develop. And why would he? The fame, the money, and all the tits and ass he could possibly want. What red-blooded male would ever want to leave that behind? And she refused to be a part of that lifestyle—not again—not ever. He was here because Marcus expected her to get him ready for the cage, not so that she could fall for the guy who’d never want more from her than a fling. If no woman had managed to steal Cole Easton’s heart by now, it was doubtful one ever would, and she certainly wasn’t going to be the one who tried.
But damn, that dream had been hot . . . Katie wasn’t sure how she’d be able to face Cole this morning without remembering every lick, every touch, as the dream version of him explored and laid claim to her body. Just thinking about it now made her cheeks heat with embarrassment and unfulfilled desire. Her breasts felt heavy, nipples hardening to achy points. She shifted restlessly, attempting to relieve the gnawing emptiness centered deep between her thighs. What she wouldn’t give right now to trade the damp cotton of her panties for Cole’s tongue.
Katie closed her eyes, imagining it, easily calling her dreams back to mind as she let her fingers glide down her stomach to the cotton-covered juncture between her thighs. As she replayed the scene, she couldn’t help wondering how close her imagination was to reality. Would his lips fit as perfectly against hers? Would his tongue be so bold? What would he taste like?—feel like as he ground his hard body against hers?
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