by Lori Foster
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
Teaser chapter
FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR LORI FOSTER
OUT OF THE LIGHT INTO THE SHADOWS
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF
LORI FOSTER
Hard to Handle
“Tension, temptation, hot action, and hotter romance—Lori Foster has it all! Hard to Handle is a knockout!”
—Elizabeth Lowell, New York Times bestselling author
“A wonderful, heartwarming story with plenty of action, [and] a suspenseful mystery.”
—Romantic Times
“Another success for Lori Foster . . . a sweet read.”
—Fresh Fiction
Jude’s Law
“A delightful, lighthearted, romantic romp.”
—The Best Reviews
“It’s impossible not to feel heat radiating off the pages, especially during their hard-earned love scenes . . . [The story has] neatly dovetailing plotlines.”
—Publishers Weekly
“With her trademark blend of danger, humor, and passion, Foster has written another entertaining romance.”
—Booklist (starred review)
THE WINSTON BROTHERS STORIES AND
Wild
“Funny, fast, and sexy.”
—Stella Cameron
“Wild lives up to its title.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Her books [are] always sexy, with heroes to die for . . . Foster’s books can help you heat up during the cold, dark days of winter.”
—BellaOnline
“A talented author whose work shines, especially during erotic encounters.”
—The Romance Reader
“A sizzling voyage of discovery . . . A sensual treat that combines fascinating character development with a terrific plot . . . A tantalizing and titillating delight.”
—WordWeaving.com
MORE PRAISE FOR
LORI FOSTER
“The pages sizzle.”
—Christine Feehan, New York Times bestselling author
“Fun, sexy, warmhearted . . . just what people want in a romance.”
—Jayne Ann Krentz, New York Times bestselling author
“Foster outwrites most of her peers.”
—Library Journal
“Lori Foster delivers the goods.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Known for her funny, sexy writing.”
—Booklist
Titles by Lori Foster
THE WINSTON BROTHERS
WILD
CAUSING HAVOC
SIMON SAYS
HARD TO HANDLE
MY MAN, MICHAEL
BACK IN BLACK
Anthologies
HOT CHOCOLATE
(with Suzanne Forster, Elda Minger, and Fayrene Preston)
SINFUL
(with Maggie Shayne, Suzanne Forster, and Kimberly Randell)
WILDLY WINSTON
THE POWER OF LOVE
(with Erin McCarthy, Toni Blake, Dianne Castell, Karen Kelley,
Rosemary Laurey, Janice Maynard, LuAnn McLane, Lucy Monroe,
Patricia Sargeant, Kay Stockham, and J. C. Wilder)
CHARMED
(with Jayne Castle, Eileen Wilks, and Julie Beard)
DOUBLE THE PLEASURE
(with Deirdre Martin, Jacquie D’Alessandro, and Penny McCall)
TAILS OF LOVE
(with Stella Cameron, Sue-Ellen Welfonder, Kate Angell, Sarah
McCarty, Donna MacMeans, Dianne Castell, Patricia Sargeant,
Ann Christopher, and Marcia James)
OUT OF THE LIGHT, INTO THE SHADOWS
(with L. L. Foster and Erin McCarthy)
DOUBLE THE HEAT
(with Deirdre Martin, Elizabeth Bevarly, and Christie Ridgway)
Writing as L. L. Foster
SERVANT: THE AWAKENING
SERVANT: THE ACCEPTANCE
SERVANT: THE KINDRED
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
BACK IN BLACK
A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley mass-market edition / February 2010
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN : 978-1-101-18507-0
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To Tammy Helton
Sales Account Manager
West Chester, Ohio, Marriott
I know I speak for everyone in saying how much we appreciate all that you do to help organize our annual “Reader and Author Get Together.” The hotel accommodations are fabulous, the food provided is delicious, and the atmosphere is always friendly and welcoming. What started out as an uncertain effort to bring together readers, authors, editors, agents, and publishers has grown into a heartwarming event of major proportions, and the hotel has contributed greatly to our success. Because of your terrific management and assistance, we’re able to continue with an affordable event, and at t
he same time make significant donations to very worthy local causes.
Thank you for being so good at what you do.
~Lori Foster
www.lorifoster.com/community/readergettogether.php
CHAPTER 1
GILLIAN Noode stood against the back wall of Roger’s Rodeo, the popular bar where many fighters hung out. She was close enough to observe him, but not close enough to get noticed. Yet. At least, not by him. Plenty of other men had already given her the once-over, showing appreciation for her trim black skirt, her low-scooped white blouse, and strappy sandals. A few had even tried to strike up a conversation. Though tempted, she’d politely declined.
She’d come here for a reason, and Drew Black was it. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a comfortable black T-shirt bearing the logo of the SBC fight organization, the president of the extreme sport sat at the polished bar. Currently, he was in close conversation with two longhaired lovelies whose bloated busts defied believability. No woman that slender had breasts that large.
But Drew showed no signs of disbelief. Like a king of his own making, he openly ogled their bounty. Thrilled with his appreciation, the girls played with their long hair, flirted, and giggled.
Gillian fought a gag.
From the many interviews and television spots she’d watched, as well as her current scrutiny, Gillian surmised that Drew Black had a fighter-type physique, sculpted with honest muscle rather than the steroid-induced kind. He wasn’t quite as shredded as the actual fighters, who made workouts and a healthy diet a regular part of their routine, but he looked strong and capable.
Obviously his ego demanded that he stay in shape. After all, he was often surrounded by younger men in their prime, elite fighters with rock-hard bodies and astounding ability.
Drew Black intrigued her beyond the job at hand.
As an entrepreneur he showed great intelligence; no one could have accomplished what he had without a lot of smarts. He’d taken a mostly dead sport, banned in many states, and turned it into an astounding success.
And motivation? The man had it in spades. He couldn’t possibly sleep more than six hours a night, given his enthusiastic workload and insane social calendar.
Good looks, great body, intelligence, enthusiasm, and money . . . Drew Black would be quite the catch if he wasn’t such a sexist, foul-mouthed jerk with the tact of a mountain goat.
With her external analysis now complete, Gillian moved closer, just a short way down the bar. She could hear Drew’s deep voice—not that she expected much enlightenment from his conversation.
But Drew surprised her.
“Will you call me?” bimbo number one asked him with a pout.
Lacking malice, he gave a low and mellow laugh. “No, I won’t.”
Look-alike bimbo number two said, “How about me?” She toyed with his ear in a way that made Gillian twitch. “I can promise you a really good time.”
“I just bet you can.” Drew took her wrist and moved her teasing hand away. “But I have to pass.”
Gillian raised a brow. She’d expected him to suggest a threesome, and instead he’d rejected both of them.
Interesting.
The bimbos combined their whining complaints and attempts at persuasion until Drew appeared to get annoyed. “Girls, what the fuck? C’mon, I have shit to do and it doesn’t include having my ears ring. Go find something—or someone—else to do, okay?”
“But Drew, we waited a long time to get to talk to you,” Bimbo One whined.
Drew leaned around the woman to eye his male companion. “A little help here, Brett?”
Gillian recognized the other man as a fighter. Grinning, he held up big, capable hands. “Sorry, Drew. I have a girl waiting at home.”
“We aren’t at your home, damn it.”
He smirked. “Yeah, well, Spice doesn’t like to share me.”
Drew pulled back. “Spice? What the fuck kind of name is that for a female?”
“The kind that suits her.” Unruffled by the implied insult, Brett finished his drink. To Gillian, it looked like juice. She gave Brett points.
“Look,” Drew said to the closest bimbo, “you’re too fucking young and, frankly, too damned pushy.”
“We have to be pushy to get near you. You’re just so popular—”
“How about I give you a couple of tickets to the next SBC fight instead? Good seats. How’s that?”
The girls bounced with enthusiasm. Gillian couldn’t take it. She asked the bartender for a martini. By the time she’d been served and taken a few fortifying sips, Drew was alone at the bar with Brett.
“You’re brutal, Drew.”
“Did you see those girls? Not only were they phony from head to toes, the damn giggles were wearing on my nerves.” He worked his shoulders, as if releasing tension. “Jesus, I do have some standards, you know.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“You want the whole list, huh? Well, it doesn’t apply here, but she has to be less than forty. Older broads are too independent.”
Brett laughed. “Those two together weren’t forty.”
“No, but young and not stupid don’t have to be exclusive.”
Brett grinned. “So what else?”
“She has to be childless, because let’s face it, the whole kid thing is a major pain in the ass. No way am I fucking anybody’s mother. And before you say it, yeah, I know, those two are still children themselves.”
Brett saluted him with his juice.
“On top of being good-looking and sexy, she has to have a modicum of intelligence—at least enough that I can carry on a conversation with her. And no squealing. God Almighty, I detest broads who squeal.”
Brett commiserated. “They were squealers.”
“Can you imagine how loud they’d be in the sack, riding out a big O?” Drew laughed. “I’d need fucking earplugs.”
Brett grinned. “Braggart.”
That nasty mouth of his, Gillian thought as she shook her head. Riding out a big O. Who talked like that? The things Drew said, the crude language he used, were not befitting to the force behind the fastest-growing sport in history. That mouth had gotten him into trouble, whether he realized it yet or not.
It was her job to clean up his act, to make him a more presentable figurehead for the SBC franchise.
Daunting, but maybe not impossible. She always enjoyed a challenge.
The trick would be to beat him at his own game, to always keep the upper hand, and to grow a skin so thick that her feminist core wouldn’t be damaged in the process.
She’d also have to remember that he was a grade-A jackass toward women, albeit a sexy one, so it’d behoove her to keep her emotional distance. Trusting him, in any way, would be a mistake. She could not let herself be drawn to him.
Sadly, he was the first man she’d found exciting in a very long time.
He was the last man she could ever get involved with.
Picking up her glass, Gillian moved down the bar and slid onto the vacated seat beside Drew. Slowly she crossed her legs. While sizing him up, she removed the olive from her drink and bit into it.
Both men stared at her, not so much because of her looks, which she knew to be average, or her figure, which was a little more voluptuous than currently popular. But because she’d invaded their space—and was now staring back.
Drew swiveled around on his stool to face her fully. Without a word, he checked her out, lingering on her legs, her cleavage, and then her mouth.
When his gaze finally crept up to hers, he said in a low voice, “Hello, there.”
Oh, men were so easy. Smiling in triumph, Gillian held out a hand. “Hello.”
A very warm, firm hand, twice the size of her own, enveloped her fingers—and held on. “I’m Drew Black.”
“Of course you are.” Still smiling, she retrieved her hand from his. “Gillian Noode.”
“Nude?”
Of course he wouldn’t let that one slide. With a chastising look, she spelled,
“N-o-o-d-e.”
His mouth quirked. “Hell of a name.”
“Yes, and I’ve heard every joke there is, from every grade-school boy out there.” She reached beyond Drew to the fighter. She’d heard Drew use his first name, but she liked proper introductions. “And you are . . . ?”
He took her hand gently. “Brett Bullman, ma’am.”
Unlike Drew, who shaved his head, Brett had shaggy brown hair a little too long, a little too unruly. Gorgeous green eyes showed good humor.
He also had a name familiar to her. “The Pit Bull, right?”
His mouth twisted with chagrin. “I hear that’s what they’re calling me.”
“I’ve read about you, Brett. You’re touted as a self-taught phenom taking the fight scene by storm.” Gillian tilted her head at him. “You don’t like your nickname?”
He shrugged with indifference and shared a friendly smile that had surely melted many female hearts. “Long as the contenders know who I am, I don’t care what they call me.”
She lifted her glass at him. “You’ve certainly earned some respect.”
“Maybe. The thing is, I haven’t really been challenged yet.” He gave a nod at Drew. “Hopefully we’ll correct that.”
So it was a business meeting. “And I’m interrupting. Shame on me.” She stood to leave. She could wait for their negotiations to conclude. “Congratulations on your recent success.”