Rules of Entanglement (31 page)

Hot tears stung her eyes and her throat closed tightly on something the size of a ping-pong ball. It was the only thing preventing her from cursing him aloud at the moment.

“Rule #3: Always be willing to move out of the bachelor shack into a grown-up house.” A grin hitched up one corner of his mouth where his dimple winked at her. “Even if said shack has bonus amenities you can’t get anywhere else, like mind-blowing waterfall sex.”

“Jackson!” she warned, sure her face was turning a bright red. The bastard ignored her and kept going.

“Rule #2: Always understand the balance of control and give as often as you take.” His thumb traced circles on her hand. “Even if it means admitting your chivalry can be a
little
pushy.”

“Little, my ass,” she muttered under her breath.

He gave her a wink that promised they could discuss her ass later, then he turned his expression serious and her heart caught in her chest. “And, most importantly, Rule #1.” He gazed deeply into her eyes. “Always, always,
always
…tell her how much you love her, now and forever, before it’s too late.”

Loved? Did he just tell her he
loved
her? Emotions rushed through her—joy, fear, relief, fear, happiness, did she mention fear—that she became lightheaded. She’d wanted so badly for him to love her. Half of her rejoiced, but the other half shrieked in terror like a B-movie vampire as the sun crept over the horizon.

It was in that moment Vanessa realized she hadn’t made the rules to ensure she found the right man to love her. She’d made them to prevent accepting anyone who did. Because if she didn’t allow herself to love someone in return, then he’d never have the power to hurt her. Her rules had been nothing more than a coat of armor protecting her from her past instead of a plan to protect her future like she’d thought.

She covered her mouth and nose with her hands, tears streaming on either side, unable to verbalize the overwhelming emotions coursing through her. He’d taken her coping mechanism and turned it into something positive and beautiful, each one of his rules directly correlating in some way to the ones she’d lived by for more than a decade. But whereas hers had held everyone at arms’ length, Jackson’s were vows of love, promises to her of how he wanted to treat her with respect and honor.

He could’ve written a hundred different speeches. Some may have worked, most probably not. But nothing would have made an impact on her like those seven rules did. And he knew that, because in the span of only a few days, Jackson knew her better than she knew herself. She loved that about him. She loved
him
period.

“V, please don’t cry.” He shoved the paper in his pocket and pulled her hands away from her face, placing a kiss in both of her palms before holding them over his heart. “God, baby, I am so sorry. I swear I’ll never lie to you again for as long as I live. Just please give me another chance. I love you so goddamn much—”

“I love you, too.”

“—and I— What did you say?”

She couldn’t resist. He’d taken her from depressed and cynical to ecstatic and giddy in point-oh-six seconds. Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to keep the smile from her face. “If you weren’t listening, I’m not going to repeat myself. You might want to make ‘Always listen the first time’ Rule #8.”

His lashes almost fused together and she heard the familiar rumbling of a growl deep in his chest that set off a chain reaction of heat and wetness throughout her body. Stepping into her until she was forced to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, he gave her a command as she’d known he would.

“Tell me again, while I’m not in mid-sentence, so I can hear you properly.”

Game, set, match went to Jackson. In a matter of forty-eight hours, she’d managed to forget just how much he affected her like this. She swallowed and wet her lips, desperately trying to regain some semblance of moisture, but apparently every last available drop had pooled between her legs to soak her expensive new lingerie.

“I love you, Jackson,” she said as she slid her hands up his chest and clasped them behind his neck. “I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.”

A radiant smile spread across his face, showing the lines of his dimples and accentuating the wicked gleam in his eye. “Don’t you worry about that, Princess,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and hauling her up his body, “I promise I know
exactly
what to do with a
pupule wahine
like you.”

Then, as their audience cheered—and Reid thanked God it was over—Jax gave her a little taste of his promise yet to come.

Epilogue

Six months later

Vanessa sat at the vanity in her bedroom, putting the finishing touches on her makeup and rifling through her earrings to find a pair to wear with her ever-present sea star necklace, and wondering what the hell was taking Jackson so long. He’d said he had to run an errand after training and then was stopping to pick up Reid and Lucie on his way home.

They still hadn’t figured things out logistically, with her job being in Nevada and his training being in Hawaii, but they’d been doing pretty well with switching off between states. When he wasn’t preparing for a fight, he stayed out by her. When he had to go back for a camp, or if he was just plain homesick for the sun and the waves, she visited him as often as possible when she wasn’t in court or if she could get away with catching up on paperwork and doing things remotely.

So far it seemed to be working well for them. They’d both discussed that neither were in a place to give up their current positions in their careers, but that once they were, they’d decide on the next course of action. But whatever they did, they would do it together.

Smiling, she looked down at the solitaire princess-cut diamond on her left ring finger and gave it a little wiggle. She’d had it a month already, but she still ogled it in private. She never thought she’d be a part of the fiancée club, but she was lovin’ every minute of it.

From the front of the apartment, she heard the door open and close.

“
Jax
, where the
hell
have you
been
?” she called out. “I’m going to be
late
for my
own
birthday drinks, and that’s
entirely
unacceptable.”

“You’re doing that thing where you talk like Robért again,” he yelled back.

“Am not!”

As the devil himself stepped into her room, she caught his reflection in the mirror in front of her and almost swallowed her tongue.

Half of his mouth curved up in a wicked grin. “Are, too.”

“Holy shit, who are you, and what have you done with my fiancé?”

A tux. Jackson Maris was actually in a tuxedo. Black and white with a bow tie (as yet untied), the whole penguin nine yards. The only time she’d ever seen him dress up was at Lucie’s wedding, which was to say she’d never seen him dressed up.

“What, no good?” he asked, glancing down his front. “I told Lucie I didn’t want the tie fixed until the last possible moment. How men don’t choke with these things is beyond me.” Then, almost as if he thought his attitude might ruin the moment, he quickly added, “But it’s not a rental. Reid took me to some guy who measured me in ways that made me think he should’ve bought me dinner first, so this thing better look decent. ”

She spun on her seat and stood. “Are you kidding me? You look so good I want to tear it off with my teeth and have my wicked way with you.”

“Baby, if I’d have known letting some guy feel me up and putting on a monkey suit would do that to you, I’d be wearing one of these every damn day.”

Laughing, she crossed to him and said, “Let’s not get crazy. I enjoy seeing you strut around in nothing but your shorts.”

“Listen,
wahine
, I don’t strut. I simply walk in a manly way.”

“Yeah, right, whatever. Now shut up and kiss me.”

She slid her hands up the fine material of his jacket as he bent his head to meet her halfway, when suddenly he jerked his left shoulder back with a hiss.

Her brows drew together. “What’s wrong? Did you get hurt at the gym today?”

“No, that’s your birthday present.”

“Wow,” she said slowly. “A hurt shoulder? I don’t want to hurt your feelings, too, honey, but you used to be better at this whole present thing.”

“Well, it’s too bad you don’t like it because I don’t believe in any of that laser removal shit. So I guess you’re stuck there.”

Laser removal? She stared at the place above his heart as though she could see through the layers of fabric. Did he…?

Carefully, she pushed his jacket off his left arm, then undid the buttons of his shirt with shaky fingers. Though her focus was on her movements, she felt the heat of those topaz eyes trained on her as surely as if she’d been staring back.

Once she reached the bottom, she took in a slow breath and lifted the left side of his shirt in the same manner she did the jacket. A white square of gauze beneath plastic wrap was taped to his golden brown skin.

“Go ahead, V,” he said softly.

She lifted three sides and peeled the covering back to reveal a coral-colored sea star with a capital V in script in the center, right next to one of the cherry blossoms riding the ocean waves of his tattoo.

“I gave you an engagement ring to show the world that I want you with me forever. But this…” He tapped a finger next to the fresh ink. “This is for you, for us. I wanted a tattoo of you on my skin, because I can’t show you the one you’ve already left on my heart.”

He was such a jerk. She hated crying. She’d cried more in the last six months of knowing him than she had in the last fifteen years. At least it was always happy crying. But he was still a jerk.

Taking slow, deep breaths to prevent an all-out sob fest, she gingerly secured the tape again and asked, “Where are Reid and Lucie?”

“Outside, waiting in the car. Why?”

Slipping her hand under his shirt, she pushed everything off in one fell swoop, then peered up through her lashes at the desire now flashing in his eyes.

“Well, we’d have to make it quick, but I thought maybe we could examine some different areas on my body where I could get a cherry blossom.”

She stepped in close and pressed her hips into the growing erection in the front of his pants. Groaning, his hands found the short hem of her mini dress and bunched it around her waist to grab onto her ass.

“And what if I love every inch of you so much that I can’t decide?” he asked, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. Before she had the chance to answer, his mouth assaulted her neck, alternately sucking and scraping, shattering her thoughts as soon as they appeared.

“Then I’ll get it next to my starfish.”

He nipped her lower lip and smiled widely at her sharp inhale. “It’s a sea star.”

“Whatever,” she said with an answering grin and then gladly let him take the lead.

Jax’s “Lucky 7” Rules To Love By

7. Always be 100% honest

6. Always own up to your mistakes.

5. Always negotiate in terms of forever.

4. Always use fists in the cage and to protect her when necessary, but never bring violence into your life.

3. Always be willing to move out of the bachelor shack into a grown-up house.

2. Always understand the balance of control and give as often as you take.

1. Always, always, always…tell her how much you love her, now and forever, before it’s too late.

Did you love Jax and Vanessa’s story?

Find out where it all began with

Seducing Cinderella

the
New York Times
bestselling first book in the Fighting for Love series

by Gina L. Maxwell

He’ll teach her the art of seduction
…
for a price.

Mixed martial arts fighter Reid Andrews’s chance to reclaim his title as light heavyweight champ is shattered when he’s injured only months before the rematch. To make sure he’s healed in time, his trainer sends him to recuperate under a professional’s care—Reid’s best friend’s little sister, all grown up.

Disorganized and bookish Lucie Miller needs some professional help of her own. She’d do anything to catch the eye of a doctor she’s crushed on for years, so when Reid offers seduction lessons in exchange for 24/7 conditioning for the biggest fight of his career, Lucie jumps at the chance.

Soon Reid finds himself in the fight of his life…winning Lucie’s heart before she gives it to someone else.

Chapter One

Lucie Miller didn’t bother looking up when she heard the knock on her office door. Her next physical therapy patient was early, which irked her since she hadn’t even completed the paperwork from the previous appointment. She pushed her glasses back in the proper place. He could just cool his heels in the hallway for the next ten minutes while she fini—

The knock came again, a little more insistently this time, and her resolve to not cater to someone else’s wishes crumbled, as usual. Dropping her pen to the sheaf of papers in front of her, she called out, “Come in.”

A head of perfectly styled dark hair popped around the edge of the door. “Hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Before she could order her heart to behave, it skipped a beat at the mellowy-smooth voice of Dr. Stephen Mann, Director of Sports Medicine and major hottie at Northern Nevada Medical Center. At warp speed, her brain performed an unsolicited catalog of her appearance, spitting out the usual diagnosis of “plain and disheveled.” Holding back a disappointing sigh and the urge to smooth a hand over the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail, she gave him her best smile. “Not at all. I didn’t forget another meeting, did I?”

Twin dimples winked at her. “No, not today.”

He turned to close the door, and her pulse raced. As an orthopedic surgeon, he’d visited her less-than-impressive office in the Rehab and Sports Med Center plenty of times to discuss mutual patients. But not once had he ever closed the door.

Trying hard not to jump to conclusions, she gestured in front of her. “Please, have a seat.”

“Uh…”

Lucie glanced to the single visitor chair piled high with file folders, old newspapers, and research articles. She swore she felt her cheeks actually change color as she bolted around her desk. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Here, let me just—”

“That’s all right, you don’t have to—”

“No, I insist.” She gathered the haphazard paper mountain in her arms. Not for the first time, or even the hundredth time, she wished she weren’t so disorganized. Spinning in a quick circle, she searched for a place to stash the mess. Stacks just like the one she held lined the walls of her office on the floor and over every square inch of desk and file-cabinet space. Finally she gave up and just plopped the pile into her chair before turning her attention to her guest. God, why couldn’t she be smooth and put-together like other women? Like the kind Stephen dated. “So, what brings you down into the bowels of the hospital this afternoon?”

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Normally, the gorgeous doctor was the picture of confidence. It was the reason women literally sighed in his wake. Well, that and his easy charm and Ken-doll good looks, complete with killer smile.

“The hospital’s annual charity dinner and dance is only two months away, and whereas a guy only has to rent a tux and show up, I’m aware that a woman needs ample time to shop for a dress and schedule all sorts of hair and nail appointments and whatever else it is that you women do to make yourselves beautiful.”

Lucie’s throat closed, and her fingers flew to fidget with her necklace. This was it. They’d worked together for years, sometimes even staying hours past their shifts to work on mutual cases, ordering bad Chinese when their brains refused to quit but their stomachs could no longer be ignored. They’d always been intellectually compatible, and their mutual obsession to help patients recover quicker and better bonded them as nothing else could. She’d loved him for years, but he’d never asked her out. Never made a move, instead preferring to date classy businesswomen he met during happy hour at the posh Club Caliente down the street.

But now he was here. In her office. Talking about the hospital ball. Dear God, please don’t let her faint. Taking a slow, deep breath, Lucie tried for casual. “Are you trying to ask me something, Stephen?” And failed miserably.
Damn.

A strong hand rubbed at the back of his neck, and he gave her the cutest look of embarrassment. “Ah, yeah. I’m not doing a very good job of it, am I?”

“No, you’re doing fine!”
Too much enthusiasm. Double damn!

“I know I should’ve brought this up before. And I really did want to ask that night I saw you at Club Caliente last month, but I hesitated and then you left. I was hoping I’d see you there again because it doesn’t quite seem appropriate to inquire about a date here at the office, you know?”

Her mind flashed back to the one night she’d ever stepped foot in the overcrowded, overpriced club. Her best friend, Vanessa MacGregor, had just won a really difficult case and wanted to celebrate with a few drinks and some dancing. Instead of going to their usual hangout, Fritz’s, Vanessa convinced Lucie to meet her at the much closer meat market of a club. They’d only been there for an hour tops before leaving. The club was like a frat house on steroids with a country-club clientele. The rest of their night had been spent downing tap beer and hustling guys at darts in a proper celebration.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she assured him. “I mean, not down here. The only person that could possibly hear us right now is Mr. Kramer on the treadmill out there, but the door is shut, and even if it wasn’t, I don’t think he remembers to turn his hearing aid up very often, so the chances of him hearing us over the noise of the mach—”

“Lucie.”

“Sorry.”
Oh my God, would you shut up already? You’re babbling like an idiot!
“You were saying?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled like he was preparing to BASE jump from the roof of the hospital instead of asking her on a date. “I was trying to get your friend’s number.”

“My…
what
?”

“The girl you were with that night. Is she seeing anyone?”

“Vanessa?” Lucie’s mind scrambled as it tried to follow the sharp turn off the path the conversation had previously been headed. Or where she’d
thought
it had been headed. She was such an idiot. “Um, no, she’s not seeing anyone…”

Every muscle in his body visibly relaxed as he stood, his easy smile returning to hit her with both dimples right between the eyes. “That’s great! Can I get her number? I don’t want to take the chance of waiting till the last minute to ask her. I’d like to take her on a few dates before the big event, too. You know, get to know each other better. Lord knows you can never have a decent conversation at that charity dinner without someone interrupting with shoptalk. Lucie? Are you listening?”

“What? No. I mean, yes, I’m listening. Yes, you’re right. It’s definitely not conducive to first-date discussions.” Lucie dropped her gaze to the organized disaster on her desk. Vanessa would have a panic attack if she saw it. Her friend was hyperorganized, always put together on the inside and out, never a hair out of place or an emotion uncalled for. Add in the perfect Barbie-doll looks and you had the kind of woman Stephen Mann was drawn to. The kind of woman she was most definitely not.

“Soooo… Can I have her number? Or maybe you’re playing the role of protective friend and would prefer to grill me about my intentions first,” he teased. “Maybe ask me why I think I’m good enough for her, something like that?”

She couldn’t help the small lift at the corner of her mouth. “As if you couldn’t be good enough for someone. You’re charming, smart, handsome, and successful. How could that amount to ‘not good enough’ by anyone’s standards?”

He winked. “I am quite the catch, aren’t I? Be sure to tell Vanessa that when she tells you I called her. That is, if you ever give me her number.”

“Oh! Right, sorry. Uh…” She looked around for a Post-it note or scratch piece of paper. She knew she had some, and if she could stop and think for a minute, she’d know right where they were, but somewhere in the last five minutes she’d been given a full frontal lobotomy, and now she couldn’t function.

Giving up, she grabbed her pen and his hand and scribbled Vanessa’s cell number onto his palm. She had to force herself to release him before she did something stupid like add an exclamation mark and “accidentally” use too much force for the dot, puncturing his smooth skin with the tip of her ballpoint. “There you go. All set. Now you’ll have to excuse me. I, um, have a new patient who should be here any minute.”

“I won’t take up any more of your time then. Thanks, Lucie.” Using his ink-free hand, he grabbed the knob and opened the door before looking back and adding, “I owe you one.”

She pasted what she hoped was at least a facsimile of a smile on her face as best she could. “I’ll keep that in mind, doctor.”

As soon as he was gone, she sank into her chair, not even bothering to move the stack of papers before she did so. This wasn’t anything new. In fact, being overlooked for someone else was typical. By now, she should be immune to the hurt that came with it. What was that phrase? Old hat. Yes, that was it. By now, this should be old hat, and it wasn’t even the first time a guy she liked was interested in her friend. But it still hurt. A lot.

There was no fooling herself any longer. She would never be the object of the doctor’s desire. And though the realist in her said it didn’t matter—that all she needed was compatibility and companionship with someone else—as her future came into sharp focus, the dreamer in her allowed herself to shed the tears that blurred the world in front of her.