His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit) (38 page)

She watched the fighters circle each other until April grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. Together they made their way through the crowd, weaving through throngs of men, not stopping until they stood ringside.

While the fight continued, Jess tried to subtly glance at the men closest to her. Most were nearing middle age. A bearded bald man to her left openly leered at Jess’s breasts. She did her best to ignore him, edging a few inches closer to April. Eventually, he turned back to the fight.

Jess realized he wasn’t the only one ogling. She and April seemed to be the only women present. That fact garnered a fair amount of unwanted attention, and while April took it in stride, it made Jess’s skin crawl. There was nothing respectful or even flirtatious about the way these guys eyed her. It was more than sexual interest—there was something predatory in the way they stared.

She crossed her arms in an attempt to discourage anyone’s gaze from lingering too long on her chest, and tried to concentrate on the fight. For the next ten minutes, the boxers circled each other, trading jabs. As they sparred, their biceps flexed and their abs contracted in a graceful, brutal dance.

Finally the one in green shorts, with the cut above his eye, ran out of steam. After his opponent delivered a solid punch, he face-planted in the center of the ring, tipping over like a felled spruce. He lay on his stomach, blood spurting from his face and pooling onto the canvas.
Oh God. So much blood.

April shook her head. “Ouch.” She glanced over at Jess and did a double take. “Oh no, you’re freaking out, aren’t you? It’s the blood thing?”

Jess waved her off. “I should have braced myself. I’ll be all right. Really.”

April gave her arm a squeeze. “It’s almost over. It’ll be okay.”

Of course it would. It was only a little fluid. Nothing to panic about, right? After a few deep breaths, Jess raised her eyes and focused on a dark-haired woman she hadn’t seen before. Wearing a pair of blue scrubs and matching latex gloves, she entered the ring and rushed to the unconscious man. She knelt next to him, completely oblivious to the red puddle forming around his head. Then she whipped out a pen light, peeled back his eyelids, and checked his pupils.

“I hope he’s all right,” Jess said. “I wonder if he has a concussion.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fi… Hey, watch it, asshole.” The man next to April had gestured with his cup and splashed beer over the hem of her jeans, dousing her purple faux snakeskin heels. He shrugged instead of apologizing. “Goddamn it,” she said, “look at this. Now I’m going to smell like I’m on tap for the rest of the night.”

Jess immediately rooted through her purse and pulled out a tissue. “Here. We should find the restroom, get you cleaned up.”

April bent over and dabbed at her foot. “No, you stay here. I won’t be gone a minute.” Without waiting for a reply, she took off at a quick pace, melting through the crowd and leaving Jess alone. With all these men.

Shit.

Jess thought about traipsing after April, but curling her toes in her pointy black pumps, forced herself to stay put. Surely she could handle being on her own for a few minutes—even in this crowd. The cautious, predictable side of her personality needed to take a backseat tonight. There was a new Jess in town, and she wasn’t afraid to take chances.
Yeah, right.

Throwing her shoulders back, she glanced around the room, not making eye contact with anyone in particular. Too bad all that self-talk about embracing new adventures hadn’t covered this kind of testosterone-fueled situation. The men on either side of the ring—not to mention the perv standing next to her—ate her up, their heated gazes ripping through her bravado like it was tissue paper. Maybe she should have listened to her instincts and followed April. All this lust-filled attention was making her very nervous.

In an effort to shut them out, Jess whipped out her phone and checked for a signal—still no reception. The anxiety she’d felt earlier slammed into her once again. Which one of these unruly horndogs could she trust to give her a ride home? None, and it was a long, dark, bumpy five-mile walk back to the train station.

Jess cut a glance to the left. The bearded asshole stared at her and slowly licked his lips, leaving them wet and slick.
Gross
. When he made a rude gesture with his tongue, she angled away from him and surveyed the men standing on the opposite side of the ring. That’s when she saw
him
for the first time.

He stood near the back of the room, head and shoulders taller than everyone around him. He stared at Jess with an unyielding, narrow-eyed intensity that caught her off guard. Easily six-and-a-half feet tall, his shoulders were so broad each one needed its own zip code. The sky-blue T-shirt he wore not only clung to his torso, outlining his solid chest and bulky arms, it also matched his light blue eyes. Thick, burnished waves framed his face and brushed his square jaw.

More rugged than handsome, his angular cheekbones were sharply chiseled, not molded. The flat, blunt bridge of his nose blended with the ridge of his brow line. It had obviously been broken more than once. But none of that rendered him unattractive. Instead, it made him seem rock solid. Manly. Rough around the edges, and unapologetic about it.

He studied Jess just as thoroughly, but not in a sexual way. In fact, he seemed almost detached. Aloof.

Everything about him, from his casual posture to the upward tilt of his strong chin, made it clear that he was in charge of his own world. Powerful. Intimidating. Not Jess’s type at all. She’d lived her life around men who’d do anything to get their own way—first her father and his political hack friends, then Derek. She’d had her fill of alphas, thank you very much. Not that this man seemed particularly interested in her. Still, he didn’t look away. He trapped her with those blue eyes, refusing to break contact.

If there was one thing Jess knew about alphas, it was that they didn’t like to be challenged. She should drop her gaze first, which was exactly what she’d done in the past. When her father lectured her for not smiling enough in photo ops or ditching Derek three months before the wedding, Jess would lower her eyes in defeat. It was a useful tactic, and at the time, seemed a small price to pay for a little peace. But it’d cost her dearly. Every time Jess conceded, she’d lost a bit of herself.

Old, careful Jess would submit to this man. She’d lower her head and back away slowly, then scamper off to find April. But that Jess wouldn’t be at a fight club in the first place. That Jess would be back in Kansas, married to a candidate for the state senate, using her vibrator, bored out of her mind.
This
Jess was bold and brazen, open to new experiences. So instead of letting this man win, she quirked a brow, daring
him
to look away first.

That move earned her a scowl, causing the lines bracketing his mouth to deepen. Nope, he didn’t like that at all.
Too damn bad, hotshot.

To add to her rebellion, Jess lifted her chin and angled her head just a fraction.
You’re not going to intimidate me, tough guy.
I’m a grown-ass independent woman.

His eyes widened in surprise, then his brows slammed together in irritation.
How
dare
you not cower before me?

She smiled at his reaction. Oh, she was starting to like this brave new side of herself. It was fun. And reckless. In a sea of men, she found herself in a pissing contest with the biggest shark. What the hell had gotten into her?

Then the perv on her left shuffled a few inches closer, brushing his arm against the side of her breast, bringing Jess back to reality with a thud.

* * *

For the last ten minutes, Aidan O’Shea had been watching the beauty across the room. She was out of place among these shitfaced savages and far too posh for this event. That lovely face was so terribly expressive. Every time Byron had taken a hit in the ring—and since he wasn’t an experienced fighter, he took quite a few—she cringed. When he finally went down, she couldn’t bear to watch. Obviously, she wasn’t used to violence. So all this begged the question: What the feck was she doing here in the first place?

Without shifting his gaze away from her, Aidan reached out and grabbed his brother around the back of the neck, pulling him close. “Who is she?” he yelled in Liam’s ear.

“Who’s who?”

Aidan gripped Liam’s neck a little tighter. “Across the room. Dark hair, blue eyes.”
Bleeding gorgeous.

Liam scanned the crowd, then found her. “Don’t know, but she’s well fit, isn’t she?”

Aidan growled and shoved Liam away. “You’ll steer clear of her.” Even as he gave the warning, he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. She moved with an innate grace, right down to her delicate pale pink fingertips. There was something innocent about this woman. Sheltered, maybe. Refined—definitely.

Her presence here drew too much attention. Aidan could feel it in the air, a restless mood that rippled through the crowd. He could see it stirring in the eyes of the other men who also watched her, and it brought forth something he hadn’t felt in a very long time—a protective instinct. Which was rubbish, of course. If she should be protected from anyone, it was Aidan himself. He’d shag her in a heartbeat, given half a chance.

“What about her friend?” Liam asked. “Can I have a go at her?”

“Don’t care.” Aidan had barely noticed the friend. But the brunette…now she was captivating. Her large, blue eyes were made brighter by her pale skin and long, dark hair. She probably smelled like heaven—rich and expensive.
She’s out of your league, ya mucker.
That she was. It didn’t stop him from looking his fill, though.

She began scanning the crowd, her restless glance not lingering on anyone or anything for very long. Then out of nowhere, she flashed those blue eyes on him, and Aidan found himself completely ensnared. They locked gazes for a long moment, before hers flickered over him. She didn’t look impressed by what she saw. In fact, she quirked her brow in a move that said
what the feck are you looking at?

It was one thing for Aidan to admit she was above him in every way. Another thing altogether when
she
acknowledged it.

When she inclined her pretty little chin, looking down her nose at him, it raised Aidan’s hackles. Who did she think she was, coming into
his
house and acting all superior? She didn’t belong here in the bleeding first place.

And he was more than happy to show her.

There are so many people that help a book get from my computer to your hot little hands. First of all, the Sourcebooks team. You guys are amazing. Cat, Rachel, Dawn, Becca, Morgan, Amelia—you ladies are lovely and wonderful to work with. A big special ginger hug to Mary Altman, my editor. I can’t even tell you how much I love working with you. You are a joy and a delight. Thank you!

My sweet husband, who grocery shops and cooks without complaint. Thank you!

Sherry, Kathy, Larissa, Sara—thanks so much! You are always there. I love you guys!

As a girl, Terri L. Austin thought she’d outgrow dreaming up stories and creating imaginary friends. Instead, she’s made a career of it. She met her own Prince Charming and together they live in Missouri. She loves to hear from readers. Visit her at
www.terrilaustin.com
.

Thank you for reading
!

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