Authors: Lori Foster

Back in Black (3 page)

BOOK: Back in Black

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Brett nodded. “I’ll be training. Whenever you say, I’m ready to go.”

After one more glance at Ms. Fancy-pants sitting all prim and sexy at the bar, Drew walked out of the main bar area and into a hallway. It was a little quieter here, making the phone call easier.

He hit speed dial on his cell, listened to the fourth ring, the fifth. A glance at his watch showed it was only a little after ten P.M. Loren had probably left the office hours ago.

In a grumbling, irritated voice, Loren picked up on the sixth ring. “Make it work with her, Drew.”

Son of a bitch
. Loren had obviously expected his call, because he knew Gillian would be talking to him tonight. “No fucking way, Loren. It ain’t happening. I don’t need a damned babysitter, and you know it.”

Exasperation sounded in Loren’s tone. “Drew . . .”

“I fucking well built this company without any help from some stick-in-the-mud, prim-and-proper skirt getting in my way.”

“No one is disputing that. But it
has
grown, so—”

“I never heard you complaining when I put in seventy-five-hour weeks and more, or when your investments more than fucking doubled.”

“It’s not entirely my idea, Drew. There are other factors at play.”

“Like what?” He’d crush whoever was responsible for doing this to him. He’d annihilate . . .

“Listen up, Drew.” The new voice on the phone was more feminine, but no less powerful. “You’re doing this, so suck it up and be a man about it.”

Fran
. Drew pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He should have known that if Loren was still in the office, Fran was, too. He pictured the two of them waiting around for his call, knowing damn good and well how he’d react, and it ratcheted up his anger even more.

Loren’s sister was co-owner of the SBC, and while Drew appreciated her business savvy, he detested dealing with her. In most cases, she wasn’t nearly as manageable as Loren. “Frannie, listen . . .”

“You know I loathe that name, Drew. You use it just to annoy me.”

Yeah, he did, but Fran was the type of ballbuster woman who just naturally brought out the worst in men like him. Drew dropped his hand from his brow and began to pace.

He disliked cajoling, but with Fran instigating this, he had little choice. “Fran, come on. We both know you’re a smart gal with a keen mind for business.”

“Agreed.”

Like most women, Frannie loved a compliment. “So you damn well know that it doesn’t make sense to mess with success, right?”

Catching on to him, she sighed. “You are such a pig, Drew.”

Drew could almost see the satisfied smile on her striking face. “That’s harsh, Frannie, even for you.” Not that he gave a fuck what Fran Ferrari thought of him.
Except that she had the power to shit-can him on a whim.
Drew held a sliver of ownership in the company, but the controlling shares went equally to Loren and Fran.

If he wanted to keep his position as president of the organization and spokesperson for the sport, he had to win her over.

“You’re not only a pig,” she said, “but you’re proud of it.”

Okay, Drew thought, continuing to call her Frannie had maybe exacerbated things.

“However,” she went on, “Gillian Noode is known for her talents in cases like these.”

“What the hell does that mean?”
Cases like these
. So now he was a damned case?

“She has a reputation of taking pigs and turning them into silk purses.”

“Great. Just the image I want.” The president of a hard-core sport could not be seen as a fucking silk . . .
anything
. “Put Loren back on.”

She didn’t. “I suggest you work with her, Drew, because I’ve had it with you. And don’t think to bully Gillian, either. I’m paying an outrageous fee to an elite company for her to conform you, enough that Gillian will soon be able to establish her own business in a big way. She’s motivated enough to ignore any efforts on your part to get rid of her.”

Ah,
Drew thought, grabbing hold of a possible lifeline.
So Ms. Noode needs this job, does she?
Gaining his compliance would help her to obtain her own goals.

Loren came back to the phone. “Sorry, Drew, but Fran is right. With every new fight card, we go more mainstream. We want the networks to pick us up. But sometimes, and I’m only saying sometimes, your temper and . . . colorful way of speaking shed a bad light on things.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He could be as circumspect and tactful as the next guy. But those attributes hadn’t gotten him where he was today. “Lose the babysitter and I can show you—”

“It’s too late for that, my friend. This is Fran’s project, so you and I both might as well go along with her until she has her way.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Drew said, and he disconnected the call.

Through the open doorway to the main barroom, he could still see Gillian, now surrounded by men. She laughed at something, and it made his muscles tighten. The woman had a teasing way of looking at men that made them stupid. The guys around her acted like a bunch of lapdogs, waiting for her attention.

Just then, she looked toward him, saw him standing there watching her, and she had the audacity to
wink
. She knew his balls were in a wringer on this one.

But what she didn’t know was that he was a master manipulator. He hadn’t gotten where he was now by being a wimp or by backing away from a challenge. Thanks to Fran’s bragging, he knew this job was important to her, and he knew why.

That information could be used to dissuade her, no two ways about that. And in the process, he’d get what he wanted—
her
—and his freedom to run the franchise as he saw fit.

When he smiled, slow and triumphant, her eyes widened before she narrowed them again. With little more than a word, she sent her entourage away and left the stool to approach him.

He met her halfway. The noisy confusion of the live band, and the loud drone of conversation, blared around them.

And still, being only a foot from her felt somehow intimate.

Drew could smell her light perfume and the warmer scent of her skin and hair. Her glossy black hair picked up the low lights in the room and her blue eyes shone with amusement. He appreciated the moue of her sexily painted mouth.

Standing a half foot taller than her, Drew looked down into her face and waited, leaving it up to her to speak first.

Trying for a confidence that wasn’t there, she said, “I trust you got everything straightened out?”

“Yeah, I did.” Unable to stop himself, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek.

Such a simple touch, but it charged him. “We need someplace more private to talk.”

Alarm stiffened her shoulders, but she brazened it out. “Yes, of course. I have a game plan I’d like to go over with you anyway. Why don’t we meet over lunch tomorrow and we can discuss everything?”

“I’m busy.” He took a step closer and leaned down on the pretext of ensuring she’d hear him. “Make it dinner, and I’ll be free.”

At his nearness, she caught and held her breath.

A telling reaction, that. She’d picked up on the same chemistry he felt. That’d make things easier.

And hotter.

With his mouth almost touching her ear, he whispered, “Gillian?”

“Oh.” She shivered, then leaned away from him. “Yes, dinner is fine.”

Sensitive ears. Where else was she sensitive? He couldn’t wait to find out.

“My place, then.” Drew took out a silver card holder from his pocket, flipped through it for his more personal card, and handed one to her. “My address is on there. I’m sure a sharp businesswoman like yourself can find her way there. Six o’clock. Don’t be late, Gillian.”

She tried to protest, no doubt preferring they meet at an impersonal restaurant, but Drew had already turned away. On his way out the door, he smiled.

He’d give Ms. Gillian Noode a week, no more, and she’d be packing it in for easier game. But before then, he’d have her, and he’d show her such a good time, she’d give up the challenge with no regrets at all.

CHAPTER 2

B
RETT walked past Ms. Noode, where she stood motionless, staring at . . . nothing. He put a hand to her back.

“Ms. Noode? You okay?”

She blinked and focused on him. “What? Oh, yes. I just got outplayed, that’s all. But no worries, I’m better at this game than that chauvinist jerk thinks.”

Brett had no idea what she was talking about, but he assumed the jerk was Drew Black. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“Ha!” She stowed the small business card she was holding into her purse before turning to him. “I need to go now. There are plans to formulate.”

She was so serious, Brett had to fight a smile. “Yes, ma’am. Did you want me to walk you out?” Roger’s Rodeo was a nice enough bar, in a nice enough area. But a parking lot was no place for a lady alone.

“I don’t want to put you out.”

He looped his arm around her. “I was leaving anyway.”

She went along without further argument. “That’s very sweet of you, Brett. Thank you.”

At the exit, he asked, “Did you have a wrap of any kind?”

“Not tonight. The weather is just beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Not bad.” For late March, the temperatures had been mild even through the night. Even in this commercialized area, spring flowers bloomed everywhere, filling the air with sweetness.

They stepped outside to a full brilliant moon—and feminine chaos.

“Oh, my word.” Gillian got jostled by a gathering crowd of women.

Frowning, Brett took notice of one particular woman. Blonde hair bounced around a pretty face dominated by big brown eyes. She wore no makeup that Brett could see. All serious business, she was handing out stacks of flyers to the other women, who all talked at once.

“What do you suppose is going on?” Gillian asked.

“Don’t know.” He reached out and snagged a flyer for himself. No one paid any notice to him. He skimmed the words—
WAVS: Women Against Violent Sports
—and laughed. “Drew isn’t going to like this.”

“What is it?” Gillian accepted the flyer he handed to her. She read it quickly, then let out an exasperated breath. “My job just got harder, didn’t it?”

Brett barely heard her. He and the petite blonde had locked gazes. She was small enough that she’d barely reach his chin. Not exactly a good physical fit, but the lower parts of him didn’t seem to care.

He smiled and gave her a nod.

Color rushed to her face and she jerked around, giving him her back as she talked to a redhead. Brett didn’t mind the snub because it afforded him a quick survey of her hips in the slim, faded jeans.

Cute. Real cute.

Gillian elbowed him. “Really, Brett. Men are
so
easy.”

Drawn back to her, he laughed and took her arm, urging her across the street. He’d come back and talk to the blonde after he saw Gillian safely to her car. “And you think women aren’t?”

“Not in the same way, no.”

“Amen to differences.”

Gillian smiled, too. “It doesn’t bother you that she’s protesting your sport? What did the flyer call it? Human cockfighting?”

“She doesn’t understand it, that’s all. No big deal.” A lot of folks were misguided about the level of dedication it took to compete in MMA fighting. It wasn’t just one discipline of fighting but a complex, complementary set of combat techniques including boxing, kickboxing, martial arts, grappling, and wrestling.

He sure as hell wouldn’t let a feminine fear of the sport keep him from pursuing a woman who interested him.

“You plan to explain it to her?”

“Why would I?” They reached Gillian’s sporty RX8, and Brett waited for her to unlock the door.

“You don’t feel defensive about it?”

He shook his head. “Everyone has a right to his or her opinion. Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well.” She slid into her seat. “You show admirable restraint. If it was me—”

“You’d be bristling, I know.” He braced a hand against the roof of the car and leaned down toward her. Grinning, he said, “I saw you get all miffed about a supposed insult to those groupies trying to get a free pass at Drew.”

She lifted her chin. “It was an insult.”

“The comment about their implants? Just a fact, nothing more.” He tapped the roof of the car and stepped back. “Man has a right to his preferences.”

She peered across the street toward the protesters. “Such as a preference for that one?”

Brett looked, too. She was short and slim in a very sweet package. “Yeah.”

Gillian laughed as she shook her head. “Good luck, then. But you know, as soon as she finds out that you’re a fighter, you’ll be at a disadvantage.”

Probably. “If she doesn’t ask, I won’t tell her.” Brett closed her door. “Drive safe, now.”

Still smiling, Gillian started her car and drove away.

Heading back over to the cluster of women, Brett saw the little blonde take note of his approach. Visibly flustered, she made herself busy real fast.

The act didn’t deter Brett; at least now he knew that she was aware of him, too.

He’d always been partial to little gals, and this one, with the mulish set to her mouth and her determined air, especially intrigued him.

Rather than scare her off by being too direct, he asked the group, “You ladies enjoying the night air?”

Almost as one they turned to look at him and went mute. A few twittered. One smiled at him. And another said in a low, throaty tone, “Well, hello, there.”

The redhead, in a protective gesture, stepped in front of the blonde who interested him.

Brett grinned. He’d always enjoyed female attention, and now was no exception. “Hello back atcha.”

The blonde stepped out from behind the redhead and huffed. “Excuse me, but we’re trying to work here.”

BOOK: Back in Black

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