Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (107 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kya

When
I gave the front desk clerk my company credit card and requested a suite, I had
no idea what I was getting. Within minutes, a porter accompanied me to my old
room, gathered up my suitcase and carryon, and whisked me five stories higher.
There, he unlocked the door to a miniature paradise.

Large picture
windows overlooked the pool. From that height, it was a jungle-like vista with
spots of bright blue. The rest of the view stretched out over Vegas with all
the major casinos easily identified. I stood and had to admire the bright,
garish architecture of the town.

It was easy to
understand why people loved Las Vegas. There was no mistaking it for any other
place and that made escaping the normal day-to-day almost automatic. Except I
was there to work. I turned to explore the suite and laughed out loud.

A full kitchen
complete with restaurant-grade appliances and hand blown glass fixtures
overlooked a wide sitting area. A gas fireplace glowed against the bright
sunlight of the room, promising to be a warm and cozy contrast to the neon
lights later that night. Two rooms with double-doors swung wide flanked the
main area and both had king-sized beds and luxury bathrooms. The master suite
was distinguishable by an added hot tub alcove in the corner.

I finally understood
why so many endorsement agents got seduced by life on the road. Expense
accounts were easy to abuse under the excuse of wining and dining a client.

"Come
in," I called at a knock on the door.

A tall man with a
golden tan and flashing white teeth strode into the suite and placed two cases
on the granite counter of the kitchen. "The front desk told me you were
thinking about dining in this evening. I am the personal chef assigned to your
suite. Room service is also available, but I thought I would let you know I am
free this evening if you would prefer something prepared fresh here just for
you."

I blinked,
thinking he might be a mirage. Had I stared out the picture windows at the
desert sun too long? "I, um, am planning to entertain a client tonight.
The Mixed Martial Arts fighter, Fenton Morris. Have you heard of him?"

The blond chef
smiled. "If I had missed his billboards, I certainly would have heard
about his big scene at the MGM this morning. Seems like a rough customer, but
easy to cook for. Steak, risotto, fresh vegetable medley. It'll be nice to cook
for an athlete that might actually eat leafy greens."

"That sounds
wonderful," I said. I wrung my hands and looked around at the suite again.
Was this for real?

"And, how
about a glass of wine for you? Perhaps a nice peppery Cabernet?" The
handsome chef tied on a white apron and opened the larger of his cases. He
selected a bottle of wine and cocked a questioning eyebrow at me.

"Wine? Yes,
now. Now would be good," I agreed.

He laughed.
"Don't worry. Drink this and take your time getting ready. I'll have
appetizers ready for your guest when he arrives. Stuffed mushroom caps and
parmesan crostini, always a hit."

The personal chef
winked as he handed me a large glass of wine. I stammered my thanks and wandered
into the master suite in a daze. Only twenty minutes ago, I had sat in my small
hotel room struggling to send just the right invitation to Fenton. Now, I was
sipping wine in a luxury suite while contemplating which dress to wear.

"I can do
this," I said out loud. "I can land this client."

I had started to
refer to Fenton as “this client” because otherwise, all I could think about was
his laser blue eyes watching me across last night's wild party or his wide
hands catching me around the waist, his warm lips trailing down the side of my
neck. I shook myself out of the lingering thoughts and selected a coral red
dress with a conservative neckline. To make up for the high neckline, I swept
my hair into a loose bun, careful not to imagine my client's hot kisses along
the skin I exposed.

I was ready.
Heavenly smells drifted from the kitchen. And it was already ten minutes past
the time I put on the invitation. The picture window framed a stunning desert
sunset, but I could not enjoy a second of it. My heart sank faster than the
fiery sun. Fenton had no reason to come. All of this was a waste and instead of
a bonus, I would be paying off my expense account for the next six months.

If the client
would not come to me, then I would have to go to the client. I had already
suffered through an innuendo-laced conversation with Kev Casey and found out
the gym where Fenton was training. He'd also let it slip that Fenton had slept
there last night. I would head there first and then, I gulped at the thought,
search all the strip clubs in Vegas.

I pulled open the
wide door of the suite and teetered backwards on my gold strappy high heels.
"Oh, you came! I mean, hello. Please, come in."

Fenton was caught
halfway between the elevator and the suite door, clearly hesitating about which
way to go. When he saw me, he scrubbed the back of his neck and ducked past me
into the suite. "You didn't need to do all this. I think we've talked all
the business we're going to talk," he said.

"Can I get
you a drink, sir?" the personal chef asked. His light blue eyes iced over
Fenton. "Ms. Allen, I hope you are enjoying that wine. Would you like
another glass?"

I thanked him and
he fetched the glass I left in the bedroom. Fenton watched him go and chewed on
his lip. The blond chef refilled my glass and winked at me as he brought it
over.

The muscles in
Fenton's shoulders rippled as he shrugged. He sauntered over and took my hand
holding the wine glass. He brought it to his lips, sipped lightly, and then
brushed a kiss along my fingers before releasing my hand. "Delicious. I'll
take a glass of whatever she's drinking. Then, how about a tour?"

The tension
between the two men did not dissipate until the chef returned to the kitchen.
Fenton gave him one last look and then wandered into the master suite. I shook
my head and followed. I was not used to being fought over, and it was every bit
as thrilling as it was frustrating. This was just business, but I wondered if I
was the only one thinking of it that way.

"So, tell me
about the new gym? Probably nice to be in a real boxing gym versus the
backstage setup at the MGM," I said. I kept my tone light as if the choice
had been Fenton's.

"Getting
kicked out has certainly boosted my notoriety," Fenton said. "Ticket
sales for my next fight are through the roof."

"I'm glad it
all worked out," I said.

"Why haven't
you unpacked?" he asked. He circled around the master suite and ran a hand
along the rim of the hot tub. "You changed for dinner, but you didn't take
anything else out of your suitcase. Aren't you staying?"

"I am. I just
have not decided which room I prefer," I said.

"Really? I
would think a nice hot soak before bed would help take the pressure off landing
your next big client," he said.

I leaned on one
hip and tapped the toe of my other foot. "Funny, I thought the same thing,
except I imagined you might like a nice long soak to ease your sore muscles.
But, if you prefer sleeping at your gym, I guess that's up to you."

He scowled and
planted both his feet. He took up a fighter's stance every time he was
uncomfortable. "I told you, Kya, I don't need your charity or your bribes.
I'm perfectly comfortable at the gym. I've slept in worse places."

I could hear my
boss' advice in my head –
The way to a
client's signature is through his stomach, or if you're feeling it, through his
pants
.

"The chef
said something about mushroom cap appetizers. I'm hungry, are you?" I
asked. I headed back to the main room and found the appetizers artfully
arranged on a silver platter. I picked one out and held it up to Fenton's
frown. "Here, taste this. Let's forget about business for awhile and enjoy
ourselves."

He opened his
mouth and accepted the savory bite. A shiver ran up my arm and tingled down my
spine as his bottom lip brushed my fingers. "Delicious," he said and
licked his lips.

The only way to
break off from staring was to grab another appetizer. This time, it was a hard
slice of cheese topped with a light dab of mustard and sprinkled with thyme. I
held it out to him on a napkin, but Fenton stepped closer and opened his mouth
again. The corners curled up as I gave in and fed him a second bite. I stood
transfixed as he savored it slowly.

"My
turn," he said. He selected another slice of cheese and brushed my hand
away as I tried to take it from him. "Trust me, it tastes better this
way."

I let him feed me
the fragrant bite. My senses jumped as the perfect blend of flavors touched my
palate and he brushed an extra flake of thyme from my bottom lip. I sunk to the
sofa and took a long sip of my wine.

The chef cleared
his throat. "Dinner is served."

"Excellent,"
Fenton said. He gathered up the silverware and both plates. "Smells great.
Thanks. I think we can take it from here."

He left the chef
holding out a chair for me and returned to the sofa. Fenton set the dinner
plates down on the coffee table and picked up a mushroom cap appetizer to feed
me. I opened my mouth to accept the taste, unable to deny my growing hunger. As
I chewed, I caught the blond chef's eye and blushed. All I could do was nod. He
packed up his cases and left before I could swallow.

"I hope I
ordered the right thing," I said.

Fenton nodded and
picked up a complicated remote. A few buttons later, the lights were dimmed,
the fireplace flickered warmly, and a slow song drifted out of hidden speakers.

"I love
steak," he said.

I gripped my knife
hard enough to hide the tremble in my fingers and cut a small piece. Fenton
accepted the bite, sliding closer to me on the couch to catch all the juices.
My mouth watered as I watched him.

He closed his
eyes. "So good," he sighed.

My lips tasted the
peppered char of the steak as I leaned in and kissed him. Fenton's blue eyes
flew open then closed on another delicious sigh. The heat of his lips warmed me
from my toes to the tips of my ears and when he pulled back to look at me he
laughed.

"Ms. Allen,
are you blushing?" he asked.

"It's the
fire," I lied. "It's a little too warm. How about we move back to the
table?"

"And let you
cross back over to business? I don't think so," he disagreed. "I
think I'm starting to agree with my coach. He doesn't believe business and
pleasure should be separate if they come together naturally. It’s like holding
apart magnets, just a waste of energy standing in the way of something like
that."

This time, he
kissed me and it was a deep, plunging taste. The hunger in my core sharpened,
but it was not for any of the delectable food set out in front of us.

"So you'll
stay?" I asked.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fenton

Her
green eyes were so
hopeful. Kya's lips curved in a smile more tantalizing than any of the food so
far. I had to kiss her again. Underneath the pepper and cherry of the dark red
wine, there was the addictive taste of her. As my tongue lapped deep in her delicious
kiss, I pulled her onto my lap.

She came
willingly. Her hands gripped my shoulders as she wriggled closer. I could not
get enough of her. This was exactly what I needed. Her hunger for me, a long
stretch of private hours, and her satin lips pressed against mine. Her fingers
tangled in the hair at my neck and pulled me deeper into the kiss.

I swept my hands
up and down her back. Gripping tightly at her waist, I pressed her to me. Then,
my hands roved again from the soft material of her dress to the silk of her
warm skin. Her legs were bare, and her high heels already kicked off onto the
floor. I could run my hand up the length of her. I could brush aside the chaste
hem of her dress. I could have Kya and finally get her out of my system.

Unless
she's just doing this for the endorsement deal
,
I thought.

The jagged thought
cut a pause in our kiss. I took a swig of wine to cover it up. When I caught
her lips against mine again, I let a dribble of wine escape. I moaned when she
lapped it up.
Is she seducing me or is it
the other way around?

If I wanted to be
free and clear of Kya, I had to make sure I had the upper hand. I pulled away
from the lips and tasted the slope of her neck. I licked the point where her
pulse jumped and had to swallow another moan. It took all I had not to devour
her. Instead, I nibbled the sensitive spot underneath her earlobe. Then, I
brushed a hot breathy kiss over the curve of her ear. She shuddered with
pleasure.

She tipped her
head back, exposing more of her neck, and I licked my lips to comply. All Kya
had to do was submit to my hot kisses and hungry tastes. Her little gasps of
pleasure were all the seduction I needed. I wanted her with every electric
throb of my body. If this was her plan to soften me up, it was working. All my
rational thoughts dripped away to pool at her feet.

"Dinner
getting cold," I said.

"I'm just
hungry for you," she said.

I twisted on the
couch, laying her down. She reached up and pulled me to her. Our lips met
again, tangled, and tasted. My head spun as I shifted to press my length
against her. Kya's back arched up to meet me and every inch of friction between
us gave off incredible heat. Her legs slipped open underneath me, cradling me
closer. I gritted my teeth and allowed myself one rocking thrust against her.
Through the stiff barrier of my pants, I still felt the warm softness of her.

"No. I can't.
We can't." I pushed back off the couch and stumbled back a few steps. The
edge of the coffee table knocked against the back of my calf, and I held out my
hand to steady myself.

Kya grabbed my
hand and pulled. "Don't worry about it. It’s just pleasure, no business.
Please."

Her emerald green
eyes were heavy with passion. I could not tear my eyes off her lips, pink and
swollen from our kisses.

"It’s neither,"
I said, scrambling to leave. "I can't explain. I've got to go."

I knocked my
forehead against the elevator wall.
It's
neither?
Somehow, kissing Kya, feeling her body pressed against mine, was
more than pleasure. And, I knew if it was business to her, it would kill me.

"Lose big
time, buddy?" the cab driver asked. "You got the look of one down on
his luck."

"I don't
believe in luck," I said.

"Yeah, you
keep telling yourself that. Things'll come around. Don't worry," the
cabbie said. "How much you lose?"

"I don't
know. I wasn't playing with money."

"Oh, man, I
underestimated your problem." The man eyed me in the rear view mirror.
"Rolling the dice on a love affair, eh?"

"Exactly,"
I agreed. I straightened up in the seat. "How am I supposed to know if
she's just using me to get a good business deal or if she really wants
me?"

"Buddy, if
she's as good as all that, who cares?"

I looked into the
mirror and caught the lipstick smudges around my mouth. My shirt was
unbuttoned, my collar half scrunched up. I smoothed down the hair at my neck
where Kya had tangled her fingers. The sensory memory made my blood pound again
and I cranked open the window.

"Oh, man, you
lost it all. I can tell. I've seen that look before." The cab driver
chuckled to himself and turned up the radio.

I opened my mouth
to ask him how many couples he had driven to the little white chapel. What was
I thinking? I had my chance to sleep with Kya and get her out of my head.
Instead of taking it, here I was letting her spin my thoughts out of control.

"I don't
lose," I said. I paid the cabbie and wished I could believe it.

It was not as
simple as having sex with Kya and moving on. I knew now that one taste of her
lips was not enough. I was afraid nothing would be enough. I wanted more from
Kya, and the realization was all consuming.

I did not realize
the lights in the gym were off, even though it was open until midnight. Where
the place had been busy with off-shift workouts the night before, now it was
silent. I took three more steps inside the main entrance and ducked on
instinct.

A heavy fist sang
past my head, followed by a thick shoulder. I twisted away and crouched into a
low position to take on my attacker.
 

My
shadowy assailant came back at me with heavy feet. I planted a heavy uppercut
into his midsection only to discover he was a thick man with a wide layer of
belly fat. I changed tactics and swiveled away before he hammered me with a
mallet-like fist. If he was just a common brawler, I could keep moving until he
was worn out. Something told me he was not alone; so it was better I took care
of him quickly.

He charged again,
planning to flatten me with his truck-like momentum. I stepped aside and kicked
hard at his knee. It was enough to send him off balance. The big man toppled
over in the dark, taking out a shelf of free weights in his fall. I waited
until he sat up and used his own movement to increase the impact of my fist as
I jabbed downwards. We met hard in the middle.

The large man
slumped onto the floor and everything went quiet. Now that the fight had
cleared my head, I knew there were two more people in the darkened gym. I
waited until someone flicked on the overhead lights. The big cage lights warmed
up slowly and two men appeared near the boxing ring.

One man wore a
dark gray suit, too shiny for my taste. His companion wore dark black pants and
a black t-shirt. The tight shirt did nothing to conceal the gun he had strapped
under his arm. Both men applauded my performance. I glanced at their defeated
friend – a military man long retired from the look of his dog tags and generous
girth.

"They have
classes here, demonstrations, if that's what you're interested in," I
said.

"You haven't
fallen so far as that. Just a few fights away from the MMA title, if you can
keep it together," the man in the suit said.

"Thanks for
the advice. I'll keep it together," I said.

"We can help
with that. Might be a little easier to keep things running smooth if you had a
little extra cash." He rubbed his fingers against his thumb when he
mentioned money.

"Sorry, I'm
not signing any endorsements or any other deals. I'm fighting for myself all
the way up to the title." I tried to walk past them, but the man in the
black pants blocked my way.

"You'll like
this deal, I promise," the man in the suit said. "You lose your next
fight and you make a tidy little sum."

"And, what if
I win?" I asked. I saw movement near the side door and hoped it was my
manager. I had never wished to see Kev Casey, but his smarmy face would have
been the most welcomed sight. If anyone could send off a couple of slime ball
fight fixers, it was my slime ball manager.

Instead, the gym
owner strode in and froze. His eyes darted over the pile of free weights and
the unconscious man. Then he glanced over the man in the suit and his friend in
the dark pants. He did not meet my eyes. He pursed his lips tight and looked
back at the man in the suit. The wild hope that he would kick the men out died
when he gave the man in the suit a small nod. He recognized them and said
nothing.

"You closed
up early, went to take your lady out for dinner," the man in the suit
said.

The gym owner gave
another small nod and turned on his heel. He was out the door. We all watched
his shadow dart across the parking lot and heard the slam of his car door. The
engine fired up seconds later, and his tires tore out of the parking lot. I
shook my head, certain he was not calling the police from the safety of his
locked car.

"If he closed
up early, then I better get going," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Wouldn't want to be trespassing after hours."

"No need to
hurry. We go way back with the owner. He won't mind if we finish our business
discussion."

"We don't
have business together, and there is nothing more to discuss," I told him.

The man in the
suit took a few steps closer to me. His eyes were narrowed and his smile sharp.
"Like I said, you'll like this deal. However you want to lose is up to you.
Just know when you do, there will be a nice fat wad waiting in your locker
here."

"And what
happens if I win the next fight?" I asked again.

"If you lose,
we'll pay you. If you win you'll pay," the man said with his same sharp
smile.

"I'll pay?
Who's going to make me? I think you saw what I did to your friend." I
crossed my arms over my chest.

"Why make
things hard for yourself or your friends? Not everyone can face Tony with such
aplomb."

"I'll take
the compliment, but not the deal," I said.

"Make no
mistake, Mr. Morris. Unless you lose we'll find a way to make you pay," he
said.

"You don't
know much about me, do you?" I asked. "I don't have friends, and I
don't much care what happens to me. I like to fight. I like to win. I don't
need your deal."

The big man called
Tony groaned and heaved himself to his feet. He rubbed his jaw and checked his
teeth before glaring at me. "He understand yet?"

"He
will," the boss man said. "For God's sake, go get some ice. We're
taking care of this."

"All you're
doing is getting out of my way," I said. "You don't have any leverage
over me and I'm not taking your rotten deal. I fight to win and I'm not bending
for anyone."

"What's that
saying? Some proverb or something about bending. If you don't bend, you
break," the man said with a curled lip that made his smile a snarl.

His companion in
the dark pants and shirt stepped forward and flashed his gun. "Lose if you
want to stay lucky."

"I don't
believe in luck," I said.

The men laughed
and left, leaving a hollow silence behind them.