Fight for Her (3 page)

She couldn’t see him, but she heard Drew Ellis giggling, his voice echoing as if from above her somewhere.

And then Gunner King was standing there, dressed the same as he’d been when she’d seen him that day—jeans, work boots, white t-shirt. “Give me your hand,” he said.

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m stuck.”

“I’ll come in after you,” he told her. “Hold on.”

But she was sinking quickly, now. The quicksand was at her neck, and then moments later, her chin. She was going to scream soon.

Gunner dove into the quicksand, headfirst. She was terrified that he was going to drown doing that, but somehow, he was able to swim and soon his arms were wrapping around her. She’d never felt arms so strong and protective before. As he pulled her out of the swamp, she cried in gratitude.

“Don’t you know I’d do anything for you?” he whispered in her ear.

“I have something to tell you,” she said.

“It’s okay, I know what you did.”

“You do?”

His hand caressed her cheek softly. “Just be careful, Krista. I might not be here next time to save you.”

And then he walked away, and as he faded into the darkness of the jungle, she tried to run after him, and in doing so, fell into another swamp. This time, as she began to sink, Krista knew that nobody was coming for her.

And the darkness took her. The quicksand went in her mouth, flooding her windpipe, choking her, taking her breath away.

She awoke, a scream barely stifled in her throat, sitting up in bed and clutching her blanket. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she realized where she was.

The fear from the dream was rather slow to dissipate, which was strange.

Usually, when Krista had a nightmare like that, she found that the anxiety went away almost as soon as she woke up and realized she was safe.

But not this time. She was unable to shake the feeling of fear that had wrapped around her in the night.

It was early, but not too early. She got out of bed and went to the bathroom for a shower and to get dressed and ready for her big talk with Gunner.

She was alternately excited and fearful of what was to come. Krista wanted to see Gunner, wanted to be near him. She thought about his voice, the look in his eye, and the way he moved. He was sexier and more intimidating than any man she’d ever met, and as Krista showered, she grew excited thinking about him.

Don’t even go there
, she told herself, as the hot water sprayed her body.
Gunner
has supermodels chasing him, and yet he’s out in the mountains by himself. That should
tell you something about the kind of standards he has. You don’t have a chance with him.

And besides, I’m here to do a job, she thought.

She dried off and then got dressed in a simple but flattering outfit—dark jeans, heels, and a gray cardigan sweater. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror as she applied a light amount of makeup.

Krista was dark haired, and her hair was her favorite feature. It was silky smooth, full, and long. The rest of her she could take or leave. After being in Vegas, it was hard not to be critical of yourself. If you didn’t have D cups and platinum blond hair, you felt like an ugly duckling.

As she put the finishing touches to her makeup, it was hard not to feel a little bit self-conscious about what Gunner would think of her.

Is it crazy that part of me is hoping he finds me attractive?

Well, no, she thought, washing her hands and then drying them on a cute little monogrammed towel. Almost every woman in this situation would hope that Gunner would find them attractive.

What’s crazy is thinking it’s even a remote possibility.

And the truth was, she didn’t think that. She knew that her feelings for him were based on the fact that he was smolderingly sexy and physically powerful. Women were genetically wired to be attracted to such things. It didn’t mean that there was a real connection between them, or any real mutual interest.

What there was, she told herself, as she got her purse and readied herself to go downstairs to the restaurant, was a job to do.

And if she failed at it, she’d be looking for a new one all too soon.

***

The restaurant was open, but there wasn’t a lot of traffic just yet.

There was a lunch counter with bar stools in front of it, an open seating section with some tables, and then a row of booths that was set apart from the other tables by a wide aisle.

When she first arrived, a guy just a few years older than her with light blond hair and blue eyes gave her a little wave. “What can I do you for?”

She was relieved to note that Gunner wasn’t there yet, which would give her some time to prepare mentally. “I’m just going to have some coffee. I’m waiting for a friend.”

“Sit wherever you like,” he said, gesturing to the entire restaurant, before taking a cloth and wiping down the counter.

An old man eating an egg sandwich and reading the paper, said something inaudible, and the younger man nodded and smiled at him.

As she walked to one of the booths, she saw another guy that could have been the blond man’s twin working the stove in the kitchen. There was a wide pass through between the kitchen and the front of the restaurant, and so you could see what was going on in back.

It was all very old fashioned here, she thought. Middle River was like the town that time forgot or something.

She grabbed the furthest booth in the back and sat down.

A moment later, the blond man came by and slapped a mug down on the table, expertly filling it to the brim with steaming black coffee. “Cream and sugar’s on your left,” he said. “I’m Cole and I’ll be serving you.”

“Can I ask you a question?” she said.

“Sure.” He waited for her to speak.

“Is that your brother working in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, that’s Caden,” he said, grinning. “People think we’re twins, but actually I’m the older one by two years. And smarter, by the way. He’s just good at flipping pancakes.”

Krista laughed. “Sibling rivalry?”

“Of course. It’s what gets me through the day. When your friend comes by, I’ll stop over again,” he said. “Otherwise, give me a holler if you need anything.”

Cole strode purposefully off to deal with other customers. The place wasn’t exactly filling up with people, but one or two were coming in now, in dribs and drabs.

Many of them were older folks who sat at the counter and seemed to enjoy shooting the breeze with Cole.

Krista sipped at her coffee and tried to calm her jangling nerves, which were getting worse by the second. She was starting to get the feeling that maybe Gunner had never really intended on meeting her this morning for an interview. It had all been an act in order to get her to leave his house.

God, how humiliating, she thought, her stomach churning. She pushed her mug away and put a hand on her forehead.

Of course he said whatever he needed to say to get you to leave him alone. He
probably thought you were crazy. He values his privacy, can you blame him?

She couldn’t really blame him at all.

But then there was a tinkling as the door opened, and instead of another retiree coming in to sit at the counter, Gunner strode inside.

Her heart leapt in her chest and started galloping a mile a minute.

Gunner nodded to Cole, who was filling coffee mugs for a couple seated near the window. “Hey,” Cole said, upon seeing Gunner. “You want the usual?”

“No,” Gunner said. “Just coffee.” He glanced around the restaurant until his gaze fell on Krista. There was no smile, no warmth, just a subtle acknowledgment that he was here and so was she.

He strode towards her booth with an easy stride. He was wearing a different pair of jeans, and they were clean and fit him well. Instead of a plain white tee, he wore a black t-shirt with some logo that she didn’t recognize on the front. But that didn’t matter, because all she could do was try not to stare at his chest as he came over and slid in across from her.

She could instantly smell him, a combination of fresh shampoo and a manly cotton scent that she associated with her daddy’s t-shirts fresh out of the wash.

Those intense brown eyes locked on hers as he settled into the booth. He was so tall that his knees were brushing her legs beneath the table, and the touch sent a shock of electricity through her entire body.

“Thanks for coming,” she said softly.

“I’m a man of my word,” he replied, and that phrase cut deeply, like a knife to her stomach.

She winced inwardly. She liked to think of herself as an honest person, too. Until now, anyway. “So,” she said, taking a breath, “should we jump right into it, then?”

Cole stopped over and put down a second mug, filled it expertly, topped off Krista’s and then departed.

Gunner brought his cup to his lips and took a small sip. She couldn’t take her eyes off his lips. They were perfect, she decided. They looked soft, but not too soft—

and she imagined that if those lips touched hers, they would be warm and insistent, and passionate.

“Fine, let’s jump into it,” Gunner replied, startling her out of her imaginary make out session.

“Okay,” she said, trying on a phony smile. She worried that he’d see her shaking hands and start to pick up on the fact that she wasn’t being honest. She hid her hands under the table. “So, let’s start with when you decided to pull out of your upcoming fight.”

Gunner placed his cup on the table again and sat back. “Wow, you really
are
new at this journalism thing,” he said.

“What—why?” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I mean, I am new, I told you that. But am I doing something wrong already?”

He raised his eyebrows and scratched his cheek. “Well, normally they do tend to record these things.” His eyes met hers and he cracked a small grin.

“Oh, shit,” she said, immediately fumbling for her purse. “I…I have a recorder…you know, on my phone. It’s an app. I have an app for that.”

When she got her phone out and finally looked at him again, she saw that he was trying hard not to laugh at her, but failing miserably.

“I’m glad you have an app for that,” he said, chuckling.

A wave of embarrassment rose up, threatening to bring tears to her eyes. This was humiliation at its finest, and on top of that, she felt she deserved it for lying about who she was and why she was really here.

Krista managed to control her emotions and get the voice recorder working on her cell phone. Then she placed the phone in the center of the table, something she was sure she’d seen journalists do in the movies. “There we go,” she said. “It’s all on the record now,” she added, throwing in another phrase she’d heard in a movie.

Gunner nodded, as if impressed by her newfound professionalism. “I’m glad to get something on the record,” he told her. Then he sipped his coffee and looked at her.

“You know, you’re kind of cute when you’re nervous.”

“Thanks,” she said, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. “Ummm….so…moving on…”

“What? Why do we have to move on? I mean, I kind of like talking about how you’re cute when you get nervous. I think it’s a great subject for an article.”

“But not this article,” she said.

“Are you sure about that?” His eyes twinkled playfully.

Is he flirting with me? Is Gunner King truly flirting with me?

She couldn’t be sure. She also thought he might either be making fun of her, or just trying to throw her off balance so she wouldn’t be tough during the interview.

Whatever the reason, Krista knew that she needed to remain poised at all costs.

A mistake at this point could prove very costly to her.

“I’m sure that we have way more important topics to discuss than my cuteness or lack thereof.”

“I disagree.”

“It’s my interview,” she said.

He shrugged, took another sip of coffee. “Who’s going to run this piece anyway?”

She froze for a moment. “Well…I’m…you know…” she swallowed.

“God, you’re writing this on spec?” Gunner shook his head.

She didn’t have a clue what spec was, but it didn’t matter. He was still talking.

“You really must be naïve,” he continued. “What year are you in school anyhow?

Don’t tell me you’re a freshman or something.”

“Actually, I’m in graduate school,” she told him. She’d been considering grad school, at least, so that wasn’t a total fib—although she’d intended to do it for business.

“Hmmm. Good.”

“Why is that good?”

“I can’t be calling some freshman in college cute. It’s too weird,” he said. “So, good, you’re in grad school. Where?”

“Boston University,” she replied promptly. She’d thought that one up last night before falling asleep

“That’s a decent school,” Gunner said. “But journalism, for a career?” He grimaced. “I’m not sure that’s the best decision.”

“I can understand why you might not appreciate that career path,” she said.

“I didn’t say I don’t appreciate it. I just said it’s not necessarily the best decision.

Right now, jobs in the field are shrinking and a lot of journalists aren’t being fairly paid for their work. Shit, the Internet’s all about Tweeting and Facebooking now. People don’t want real journalism anymore.”

Krista stared at him. Her nervousness shot through the roof, because Gunner wasn’t just gorgeous and sexy and strong and extremely charismatic. He was also really, really smart. “Getting back on track,” she said.

“We are on track, Krista.” He leaned over the table slightly, his chin angling towards her, his eyes gazing at her intently. “Look, I want to help you. If we do this whole interview thing, you’re going to have a really big scoop on your hands. I need to help guide you through this, make sure you cut a good deal for yourself.”

“But first we need to actually do the interview,” she told him. “And so far you’re asking all of the questions.”

He sat back and waved her off. “Fine, ask your questions. Go on.”

“Well,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and trying to get composed again. “Let’s start at the beginning. Why did you decide to pull out of this fight, the biggest of your entire career?”