Back in Black

by Lori Foster

  A few guys protested that. Obviously they liked their fast food.

  “There’s little time for girls, or family.”

  More complaints, these a little louder, and Gillian didn’t think it was the prospect of little family interaction that had set them off.

  Drew strolled out into the audience. “This is not a career choice for candies, let me tell you. You have to have a stand-up and a ground game. And you absolutely have to be in shape. I’m talking gas in the tank. I’ve seen more fighters lose because their cardio sucked than I’ve seen knockouts. It’s pathetic.” He moved among the boys. “But most importantly, a fighter has to be smart.”

  One boy said, “You don’t have to be a genius to throw or take a punch.”

  “Maybe not,” Drew agreed. “But raw power is only going to get you so far. You think any of the top fighters are dummies?” He looked around at the boys, and with a crooked grin he added, “I sure as hell wouldn’t call any of them dumb.”

  Robust agreement erupted.

  “A fighter has to remember hundreds of moves until they’re automatic. He has to be able to analyze his opponent, figure out a game plan, and adjust accordingly during a fight. But he also has to be smart enough to manage his career, to make good decisions along the way.”

  Another boy stood. “You talk tough, but you ain’t no fighter.”

  Not in the least offended, Drew agreed. “Hell no. I don’t want to diet all the time and run twice a day. And when I don’t get much sleep, it’s because I’ve stayed out late, not because I have an injury or too many bruises to count.” Sotto voce, he said to the crowd, “Those guys are tough as nails, no doubt about it.”

  When the boys stopped laughing, Drew put his hands in his pockets and started strolling among them again. “I’m not a fighter, and I know it. So that means I had to find something else that I’m good at.” He glanced toward Gillian. “I’m good at running the SBC. I’m good at understanding fighters, and I’m an incredible businessman.”

  “And real humble,” someone called out, igniting more chuckles.

  He released Gillian from his gaze and laughed with the boys. “Hey, I’ve got the background to prove it, ya know? The thing is, there’s always a choice. No matter how bad shit seems, no matter how others try to drag you down. Every one of you is good at something, and you should know it. There’s nothing wrong with recognizing your talents. If it’s fighting, then come see me when you’re eighteen and I can recommend some good camps where you’ll get the best training. If it’s business management, then Mr. Darwich can probably recommend some classes—”

  Boos erupted.

  “What the hell?” Drew said. “You telling me you guys are too wimpy to cut it in school? Do you know that at least fifty percent of the SBC fighters have a college degree? A lot of them have more than one degree.”

  Gillian drew in a breath at Drew’s cursing—not out of disapproval, but rather admiration. Drew had analyzed his audience and knew the second he started to lose control of things. Just as he said a fighter should react during a fight, Drew had adjusted accordingly to keep them engaged. A few choice curse words had left the boys with a feeling of association, an affinity.

  More questions were asked and answered, and through it all, Drew really reached the kids. By the time Mr. Darwich rejoined him back on the stage for a final thank-you, the boys were all pumped up and excited and making plans.

  Then Drew stunned her, and them, by saying that, with Mr. Darwich’s approval, he’d like to donate an entire library of SBC DVDs. Most of the DVDs were taped fights, but some of them were instructional videos by the fighters themselves.

  And for that, Drew got a standing ovation and raucous cheers.

  Gillian applauded, too.

  Drew Black had surprised her—again. Every minute that she knew him proved him more outrageous, and more considerate, than any man should be.

  CHAPTER 4

  As they left the group home and walked out to the lot where Drew had parked, Drew caught Gillian’s arm. She turned to him with a brow raised.

  He took up the pace beside her. “So what’s the verdict?”

  He needed reinforcement? Did her opinion really matter to him, or was he only concerned about his position as president of the company? Either way, she didn’t have the heart to leave him wondering. “Two thumbs up.”

  “Seriously?” Skepticism beetled his brows. “I don’t lose points for slipping in a few curses?”

  “Not at all.” He deserved to hear the truth. “I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Your methods worked. The boys listened to you.”

  “Yeah?” Pleased, he shrugged and said, “Thanks.”

  As she again started away, he asked, “Where are you going?”

  “I parked in a lot down the block.”

  Puzzled, he looked from her, to where she indicated, and back again. “Why?”

  To avoid this very situation. She hadn’t wanted to be tempted to leave with him. And he was tempting, too much so. He affected her too strongly for her to test her own powers of resistance.

  She fudged the truth by saying, “I wasn’t sure if the lot would be full.”

  “Yeah, lot of traffic at a boys’ home, huh?” His dubious expression gave little credence to her lie. “Well, it’s too bad you insisted on driving yourself. We could have . . . chatted on the way over here.”

  Gillian pasted on a very practiced smile. Drew had offered to pick her up, but being alone with him, even while traveling for business, was out of the question. “I had to drive because I have other commitments tonight, but—”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  She stalled, and her rehearsed spiel about keeping things professional dissipated like a weak mist. “What do you mean? What are you doing?” Good Lord, she sounded far too curious, and far too . . . possessive. To cover up her reaction, she gave him a severe look of warning. “I trust you won’t be getting into trouble.”

  “Nothing for you to faint over.” He paused beside a sleek black BMW, leaned back on the fender, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m going to Roger’s Rodeo. Supposed to meet some folks there for drinks and conversation.”

  “Business?”

  “Not really, no. But if you’re worried about it, you could join us and keep an eye on me firsthand. What do you say?”

  She really wanted to, but . . . she’d already laid claim to other plans. Drat. “I wish I could, Drew, but I’m needed elsewhere.”

  “Needed, huh?” His gaze dipped to her chest and remained there. “As in sexually, you mean? ’Cause if that’s the case, I have some needs of my own—”

  In self-preservation, Gillian smashed a finger over his mouth. If he continued like that, she’d never be able—

  His hot tongue touched her finger and he drew her into his mouth.

  “Drew.”

  Catching her wrist so she couldn’t pull her finger away, he licked her again.

  It felt . . . sinful.

  “So.” He wore that Got you look and continued to hang on to her wrist as he kissed her palm and then the inside of her wrist. “What is it you have going on tonight, Gillian?”

  As if he wasn’t doing the most sexually suggestive things to her, as if she wasn’t breathless because of it, he casually waited for her reply.

  Gillian curled her fingers into her palm and tried to still the racing of her heart. There was nothing she could do about her trembling voice. “You may not take such liberties.”

  “Of course you’re right.” Moving away from the car and bending his knees just a little, Drew met her gaze at eye level. Speaking oh so softly to her, he said, “Know what I think you should do about it, Gillian?”

  The way he kept using her name was as effective as his touch. “I am not quitting.”

  “Good.” He straightened and, still holding her wrist, stepped closer. “I don’t want you to. Not anymore.”

  He didn’t? “Then . . . what?”

  Close to her ear, his jaw b
rushing her cheek, he whispered, “I think you should come by my house tonight so we can get all this sexual tension out of the way. What do you say?”

  Yes. “No.” As much to convince herself as to deny him, she shook her head. She had a job to do, an important, well-paid job that would enable her to start her own company wherever she wanted. “It wouldn’t be ethical.”

  Putting his fingers under her chin, he lifted her face. “And ethics are the only thing keeping you out of my bed?”

  How could she answer that without further exacerbating the situation?

  When she said nothing, his eyes darkened. “You’re telling me that you’re as attracted to me as I am to you? If we weren’t working together, you’d be saying yes instead of no?”

  “Drew . . .” Floundering, Gillian lifted her shoulders. “The fact is that we are working together and getting personally involved with you would discredit me to my employers.”

  “Well, damn, woman.” He cupped her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “I’m going to have to see how I can remedy the conflict.”

  Gillian started to say something—she had no idea what—and his cell phone rang.

  After a hesitation where he visibly struggled with himself, responsibility won out and he glanced at the caller ID.

  “Damn it, I’m sorry. I need to answer this.” Taking a step away from her, he said, “Give me just a second,” and he opened the phone.

  Still unnerved, unsure what to do, Gillian stood there. Maybe she should just get the sexual tension out of the way. After all, they were both adults, both free of romantic commitments. If she lost this opportunity to explore the hottest sexual attraction she’d ever experienced, wouldn’t she regret it later? How much harm could it really do . . . ?

  No. Putting a hand to her brow, she turned away from Drew. What in the world was she thinking? She was a rational, reasonable woman. She was not a woman influenced by base desires.

  At least, she hadn’t been that kind of woman before meeting Drew Black.

  Drew’s voice rose with an edge of urgency, reclaiming her attention.

  Judging by his expression and tone, it was not good news. It’d be best if she excused herself now and gave him some privacy for his call.

  But when she gave a short wave and started to ease away, he reached out and caught her hand. He didn’t look at her, and frustration showed in his stiffened shoulders and the set of his jaw. But his hold on her hand was gentle, a request rather than a restraint.

  Gillian subsided, willing to wait for him to finish the call.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there in . . .” He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes or so, give or take traffic.” He returned the phone to his pocket, drew her close, and kissed her, but it was a quick kiss of frustration. And then he just frowned at her.

  Gillian sputtered. “What . . . ?”

  “I like you, Gillian Noode. Hell of a predicament, isn’t it?”

  “I, ah . . .”

  Releasing her, Drew ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t suppose you could change your plans tonight?”

  If she had any sense, she’d take him to task over that careless kiss; the man truly knew no boundaries. But at the moment, a bad foreboding got the better of her.

  Gillian let out a breath. “What’s wrong, Drew? What have you done now?”

  “What have I done?” Affronted, he fried her with a look. “Not a damn thing. But one of my fighters . . .” He drew up short, shook his head in stubbornness. “Never mind. It’s not your problem. Forget it.”

  “No, wait.” Guilt left her flustered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just assumed . . .” Trying again, she cleared her throat. “Was there something you wanted me to do?”

  “Besides have sex, you mean?”

  It didn’t take him long to recover, obviously. Mimicking him, Gillian said, “Never mind. Forget it.”

  Drew laughed. “I’m sorry. That was bad even for me.”

  “The apology loses something when you’re so amused by it.”

  He wiped away his grin and held out his arms. “Behold, a serious man. Dead serious, actually. I don’t have time to explain, but one of my fighters is having a meltdown and I need to go get him before the cops are called. I just thought . . . that is . . .”

  “You’d like company?” For whatever reason, the idea that he wanted her with him during a difficult time softened Gillian. “Is that it?”

  “I wouldn’t mind another rational person going along for the ride, yeah.”

  So he did value her input. She more than softened; she went all mushy, and she was not a mushy person. “Then of course I’ll go with you.” Man, she was easy. “Along the way, you can tell me what’s going on.”

  “Thanks. Let’s get going.”

  Gillian walked around to the passenger side of the BMW. Like a true gentleman, he opened her door and waited for her to be seated before striding around the hood to the driver’s side.

  As he started the engine, he asked, “Don’t you need to call someone?”

  “For what reason?”

  “To cancel your plans.”

  Oh, yeah. Her plans. “It was a group gathering,” she hedged. “My absence won’t stall things.” Anxious to change the subject, Gillian settled into her seat. “So what happened to the fighter?”

  “It’s pretty fucking stupid, if you ask me.” They left the parking lot and entered the thoroughfare. “Dickey Thompson’s girlfriend broke things off with him, and he’s having a damned meltdown, I guess. He went to a tattoo parlor to have a design put over her name.”

  “He had his girlfriend’s name tattooed onto his body?”

  “Yeah, right over his heart. Do you believe that shit? Some of these guys . . .” Drew shook his head. “But I guess the little lady doesn’t like being left at home while Dickey’s away for a fight or training, and he doesn’t make enough yet to afford taking her along.”

  “I don’t recognize his name.”

  “He’s newer. Got a lot of potential, but a lot of baggage, too. He has to get his damned head together. I tell you, girl-friends fuck up more fighters than steroids ever could.”

  Trying to sort things out in her head, Gillian asked, “And Dickey called you?”

  “He doesn’t really know too many people in the area, so he gave my name and number to the tattoo artist.” The repercussions of that struck Drew with new fury. “Which means that now some fucking tattoo artist has my fucking cell phone number.” He squeezed the steering wheel. “I just might strangle that little prick.”

  “Is he little?”

  “Physically? Fuck no.”

  At the continued foul language, Gillian lost her patience. She touched his biceps. “Drew, I know we had an agreement about you being you when we’re out of the public eye, but once we reach the tattoo parlor—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I won’t embarrass you.”

  Did he really think that was her only concern? She wasn’t such a delicate flower that a few words meant that much to her. She was more worried about him damaging his already flogged reputation. “It’s admirable that you’re available to the fighters when they need you.”

  “Don’t get the wrong impression. Usually I’m nowhere around when shit like this happens. And don’t think I excuse his dumb-ass behavior, because I don’t. I’m not a damned coddler.”

  Droll, she shook her head. “No, Drew, I doubt anyone would accuse you of coddling.”

  He shot her a quick look, then tried to relax. “Know what really pisses me off?”

  Inexplicably, Gillian found herself amused with Drew’s mood. Like a surly bear, he growled and snarled . . . but he was still going after Dickey to help him.

  Drew Black’s bark, she realized, was much worse than his bite.

  Smiling, relaxed despite his sizzling temper, she said, “Tell me.”

  “We got interrupted.”

  Alarm bells went off in Gillian’s head. She could think of nothing to say.

&n
bsp; Holding the steering wheel in an edgy, frustrated way, Drew picked up where they’d left off as if there’d been no interruption at all. “Let me get this straight. If we weren’t working together, we’d be burning up the sheets?”

  How could she have forgotten, even for a second, how unpredictable the man could be? Gillian fidgeted in her seat. “It’s . . . more than our working relationship, Drew.”

  “What, then?” Again he glanced at her, at all of her, before returning his attention to the road. “And don’t tell me you don’t want me. I have plenty of bad credentials, but obtuseness isn’t one of them.”

  More fidgeting. “No . . . I mean, yes, I do want you.”

  Good Lord, why would she admit such a thing?

  Gillian rushed into explanations. “But let’s face it,

  Drew, you’re known as a womanizer, and I don’t want to be just another notch on your belt.” All of his tension seemed to have eased away. “How do I know I won’t be a notch on your belt?”

  She gave him a long look.

  “Lady, you know how to tease. Admit it. You look at a guy and you have him drooling in a heartbeat.”

  Warm pleasure spread through her. Did he really think she could be so effective in seduction? “I don’t see you drooling.”

  He made a rude sound. “I’m more interested in figuring out how to have you than daydreaming about it. And speaking of that, let me make sure I understand the scenario. You don’t want your personal or professional reputation tainted by being with me. Do I have that right?”

  Hearing him say it aloud like that made it sound really . . . horrid. Gillian’s face went hot at her lack of sensitivity. “Drew . . .”

  “Just work me with here, okay?” Far from wounded by her reservations, he asked, “What if I swear not to tell anyone? It could be our own, very private fling. No one has to know, right?” He took a left into a busier business area. “And Gillian, for the record, my word is good.”

  She believed him. He might be many things, but he wasn’t a liar. Drew told you what he thought, no holds barred. He had no reason to lie.

  “Think about it—an exciting, illicit affair without repercussions of any kind. Sounds tempting, huh?”