Got A Hold On You (Ringside Romance) (13 page)

“I had nothing to do with it, Mr. Hudson. Although
considering the audience reaction, I’d say it seems to be a clever story line. ”

“Clever.”

“Yes, clever.”

“And you didn’t dream it up? I’m surprised.”

He crossed his arms over his chest letting his gaze
drift from her mouth to her breasts, down to her legs, then back up again. She
lifted her chin and pressed her fingers to the lapels of her suit. There was no
way she’d be intimidated by his sexual energy. Time to mark her territory.

“The marriage will fit in well with the promotional
dates I’ve set up. You and Tatianna will be a big draw as man and wife.” She
glanced across the parking lot. Where was that car? She needed time alone, time
to sit with her thoughts and decide to what lengths she’d go to protect her
uncle.

“Where is my wife, anyway?” he asked, an edge to his
voice.

Great, now he hated Frankie as businesswoman and cat
wife.

“She’s got friends in town and decided to stay over.”
It was getting awfully easy to lie to this man. What was happening to her?

A black stretch limousine pulled up.

“Here’s my ride.” She escaped into the car and shut
the door, finally able to take a deep breath to calm her nerves. She glanced
out the window. Jack stood there watching her through the tinted glass.

She lowered her window. “Is there a problem?”

“I need a ride.”

Before she could hit the automatic locks, Jack whipped
open the door and shifted onto the soft leather seat across from her.

It was going to be the longest two hours of her life.

They pulled out of the lot and she stared out the
window at passing office buildings, resentful that the man’s very presence did
things to her insides she couldn’t describe. She heard him fiddle with the
mini-bar. Great, now he was going to get drunk and verbally abuse her.

She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned back
against the supple leather and closed her eyes. Yeah, as if that would wash
away the image of the man sitting across from her: his pecs thick and hard to
the touch, his hair floating wildly across his shoulders. She found herself
fantasizing about running her hands across the hard planes of his chest, down
his stomach to other, more private places.

Bradley, she had to think about Bradley. He was the
one she should be fantasizing about, not Cro-Magnon man. A smile played at her
lips at the memory of Bradley straightening her shirt collar before work one
morning when he’d slept over the night before. It was nice waking up next to a
warm body in bed. She’d even suggested they live together. But Bradley was a proper
gentleman and believed in cohabitation only if a couple was married. He planned
to propose the day he got promoted to partner. That way he’d feel like a
success, a true provider for his bride.

Frankie remembered a Saturday morning when they’d
analyzed their five-year calendar, planning when to buy which items for their
dream house and how to invest for a perfect future. He didn’t mind that they’d
have to cover the entire wedding expense when usually the bride’s family footed
the bill. Mama didn’t have that kind of money and she’d forbidden Frankie to
ask Uncle Joe.

In time it would all come together. She and Bradley
would save twenty percent of every paycheck, invest in a combination mutual
fund and stock program and before she reached the age of thirty-five she’d be
walking down the aisle to say “I do” in front of a priest.

A priest. That’s it. She wasn’t really married to Jack
because the Rev. Gardner wasn’t a minister of her own faith. What a lame
thought.

“You could have at least warned me,” Jack’s sultry
voice whispered in her ear.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Her eyes popped
open and she froze at the sight of his tanned, stubbled jaw a mere inch away.
He was close, way too close. And all she could do was stare at his lips.

“What are you doing here?” She dug her fingernails
into the leather seat.

“You offered me a ride, remember?” His eyes twinkled
with mischief.

“I meant, why are you sitting next to me?”

“I wanted to make sure you heard me loud and clear.”
His ran his tongue across his lower lip and her pulse did a double-time rumba.

“I can hear you,” she said, struggling to maintain a
firm tone.

“Good. Because I want you to know how upset I am right
now.”

Flattening her palms against the soft leather seat
beneath her, she edged away from him until her back was jammed against the
door.

He leaned forward.

She wanted him to come closer.

She wanted him to jump from the car.

“You’re upset. I understand,” she said.

“I don’t think you do. I’ve done the marriage thing
once. That was enough.” He downed a shot from a small bottle of scotch and
swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. The thought of tasting hard
liquor had never crossed her mind until she spied a drop clinging to his upper
lip.

“And nearly twenty years in this business is enough.”

As he scrutinized her skin, hair, and eyes, her skin
burned red hot. She needed air, needed to put space between them.

“I’m sure the marriage thing isn’t legit,” she said,
her stomach tied in knots. “But I can’t help you with your contract. It’s a
binding document.”

“Oh, you could help me.” He cracked a seductive smile.
“If you really wanted to.”

What she wanted at the moment had nothing to do with
money and everything to do with raw, unbridled sex.

No, don’t let
him control you like this! Fight back. Don’t let him melt you like butter on a
frying pan
.

Giving her blazer a tug to regain control, she cleared
her throat. “A contract’s a contract. I don’t see what the big rush is about.
It’s not like you’re an award-winning scientist who has to discover a cure for
cancer.”

A new emotion flashed in his eyes, similar to the
sadness she’d seen on the catwalk only different.

“No, that I’m not.”

He edged away, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Brains have never been my strong suit,” he said,
glancing out the window.

She’d hurt him. Intentionally or not, she’d struck a
nerve. But she couldn’t help herself. Worried sick about her uncle, she simply
wasn’t thinking straight.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was unfair.”

He tapped a fisted hand against his thigh and
continued to study the Wisconsin countryside.

“I’m not usually like that,” she continued. “I got
some bad news about my uncle.”

He eyed her. “Yeah? The old man got three months to
live or something?”

She clenched her fist, wanting to lay one right
between his eyes. His gaze drifted to her hand and he grinned.

“No kidding? Don’t tell me—he’s got a tumor in
his brain the size of a football,” he said, hopeful.

“He doesn’t have a tumor.”

“What then? Bad sushi? A parasite’s eating away at his
intestines?”

“Forget it.”

“Ah, come on, Frank. Sully’s been like a father to
me.”

“And I’m Santa Claus.” She glared out the opposite
window.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied him shift
beside her. He touched her hair and goose bumps tickled the back of her neck.

“Come on, sweetheart, it will make you feel better to
talk about it.”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“You brought it up.”

She turned and stared him down. “And I’m dropping it.”

“Maybe I can help.” He brushed lint off her blazer
lapel right above her breast. She glanced down at his hand, then up into his
eyes. His smile faded. She couldn’t move. He was going to kiss her.

“Confession is good for the soul,” he said, his lips
slightly parting.

She jumped to the other side of the limo and crossed
her arms over her tingling breasts. “He’s in trouble, that’s all you need to
know.”

“Man, it’s hot in here.” He pulled the T-shirt out of
the waistband of his jeans, flashing a generous amount of taut, muscled
stomach. Her pulse tapped against the base of her throat. How pathetic, getting
turned on by a glimpse of the guy’s gut.

“What kind of trouble did old Sully step into this
time?” He adjusted his shirt to cover his bare flesh.

“He got involved with…” Her voice trailed off as she
watched him stretch his arms along the back of the seat. His shirtsleeves cut
into his biceps accentuating hard, rounded muscle.

“What? I didn’t hear you. Damn, I’m burning up. You
don’t mind if I take this off, do you?” He reached for the back of his shirt.

“He got in involved with the wrong crowd, okay? Keep
your shirt on.”

He leaned back and shot her a victorious smile. “Wrong
crowd? That’s what they said about me when I stole Kurt Porter’s bike in the
eighth grade.”

“Trust me. This is more serious than petty theft.”

Before she could blink he was next to her, crowding
her, practically sitting in her lap. She blindly reached for the window
controls. Maybe a little air would help. Or maybe
she
could jump. She had a feeling she’d have better luck with the
pavement than a physical encounter with Black Jack Hudson.

“What do I have to do, kiss it out of you?” he said.

She knew damn well she’d never survive another one of
his kisses.

“You do and I’ll stop the car and have you dumped in
the middle of Interstate 294.”

“No, you won’t. Now come on. Give, just a little.” His
lips got closer…closer. She could practically taste them, spicy, sweet, male.

Good God! What was
she doing
?

She shoved at his chest and hopped to the opposite
seat like a jackrabbit.

“He took money from the mob,” she blurted out.

He burst into laughter, the hearty sound filling the
limo. Eyes watering he doubled over, laughing and slapping at his knee.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” she snapped.

“I guess…” he said, trying to catch his breath. “The
thought of Sully a few feet shorter hit a funny bone, that’s all.”

“I see no humor in this.”

“Too bad. Seems like you could use a good laugh.”

“This is my uncle we’re talking about.”

“It’s Sully. The man’s been courting disaster for
years. Doesn’t surprise me it finally caught up with him.”

“Of course a professional bully like yourself would
find humor in this horrifying predicament.”

He burst into a new fit of laughter. “It seems like
sweet justice to me.”

“He could die because of this stupid business!”

His laughter stopped short. Apparently the seriousness
of her uncle’s predicament had finally sunk into that thick skull of his.

“Stupid business?” He squinted and leaned forward.

Guess not.

“If it’s so stupid why did Sully risk his life on a
bad loan?” he challenged.

“Only he knows that.”

“Not for long. The press is going to love this.
They’re always looking for a reason to kick us in the teeth.” He held out his
hands as if displaying a headline. “‘Big-time wrestling promoter uses mob money
to boost business.’ ”

“They’ll never find out.”

“No?” He grinned and both cheeks dimpled.

“You wouldn’t.”

“You forget, babe, I want out of this crazy business
more than you want me out of this car.”

“Yet you defend it so much.”

“That’s because people like you don’t understand how
real it is even if it’s time for me to jump ship. That is if there’s even a
ship to jump from after word gets out about Sully.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Now what? Threaten to
break his contract? She couldn’t. She needed him too much. For the business,
only for the business.

“What are you gonna do to me, sweet cheeks? Fire me? ”

She wracked her brain.
Think, Frankie, think. You’ve bluffed your way out of worse situations
with more challenging enemies like Fortune 500 CEOs
.

Money. The key to every victory.

She smiled and casually crossed one leg over the
other.
 

“No, I won’t fire you, but I can hold back the bonus
incentive my uncle promised you when your contract’s up.”

He shot her a death glare. At least he didn’t reach
for his shirt again.

“I’m assuming you need that little nest egg to move on
with your life?” she said.

Jack burned to wipe that smug look off her face. And
he knew how to do it—with a kiss.

“Cat got your tongue?” she taunted.

A haze of red flashed before his eyes. Red, orange,
yellow. He was seeing fire, and he wanted to throw her right into the center of
the flame.

With an arrogant nod, she closed her eyes and relaxed
against the black leather seat. Would she sense his approach if he reached
across the limo to squeeze that pretty little neck between his fingers?

He glanced at the mini bottle of booze in his hand and
shook his head. The damn woman was driving him to drink. Hell, five minutes ago
he’d nearly kissed her. He’d wanted to kiss her, this impossible, uptight,
bossy broad. What a chump, letting his body override his better judgment again.
This woman was a barracuda determined to torture him. The cold-hearted Franken
Niece was incapable of understanding anything beyond bottom lines and marketing
angles.

Yet he couldn’t help but admire her devotion to Sully.
It might be painfully misplaced but her love for her uncle was touching. Anyone
who could love a man like Sullivan, seeing his faults yet forgiving him anyway,
couldn’t be all bad. Or was she motivated by the money? Was she in this to get
a piece of the action?

No, when she had talked about Sully being marked by
the mob, real tears welled in her eyes. A twinge of jealousy tickled his gut.
No woman would ever shed tears over Jack Hudson. Not in this lifetime.

Staring out the window he mentally kicked himself for
the self-pity. He’d always been a lone wolf. Even as a member of the high
school wrestling team he did his own thing, kept a safe distance from the guys.
Jack didn’t need anyone or anything.