Got A Hold On You (Ringside Romance) (32 page)

“Just got up.”

“It’s nearly ten.”

“I didn’t get much sleep.” She wandered to the
kitchenette and poured coffee grounds into a filter.

“Me either, sweets. I was up all night thinking.
Nearly gave myself a migraine.” He shifted onto a bar stool and squeezed the
bridge of his nose.

She poured water into the coffeemaker. It gurgled and
spit. And her heart pounded.

“I couldn’t believe what you’ve done to me,” Bradley
said in a hushed voice.

She stilled. He couldn’t know, could he? She glanced
at the bedroom door, wondering if the silk flowers had sprouted a hidden camera
courtesy of Uncle Joe. She wouldn’t put anything past him where ratings were
concerned.

“To put our lives in such jeopardy over something like
wrestling. I was very upset,” Bradley said.

He looked at her as if he expected something. What? A
confession? No, he couldn’t know about last night, and she didn’t think she had
anything to apologize for regarding her wrestling career.

Besides, she couldn’t undo what she’d already done,
including her all-night aerobics with Jack. Shame strangled her vocal cords as
she struggled to carry on a conversation with her ex-pre-fiancé.

Focus, Frankie.
All’s not lost
.

“Bradley, I explained to you last night how important
it is for me to help my uncle. I don’t know what more—”

“Wait.” He put up his hand. “Hear me out. I understand
your loyalty to your uncle. You haven’t had many positive male figures in your
life, besides me, of course.” He smiled that million-dollar smile flashing such
clean, bright teeth.
 

“Anyway, I called a few people at work this morning
and happened to mention this whole wrestling business,” he said.

“You told them what I was doing?”

“No, of course not. I mentioned it in passing and it
seems I may have been a little unfair. Professional wrestling is a very popular
form of entertainment, even with people of our caliber. As a matter of fact,
Lundstrom, Marks and Beetle is trying to get a contract with Doodles Candy, a
major sponsor of one of those wrestling groups.”

“WHAK, that’s my uncle’s company.”

“No kidding?” His eyes lit up.

“No kidding.”

She poured him a cup of coffee, added exactly 1.5
ounces of milk and passed it to him across the counter.

“Well, hmmm.” He scratched his chin. “Maybe this has
all worked out for the best.”

“How so?” She cradled the mug of coffee in her hands.

“If you could get me front row tickets for the show in
Chicago, I could bring the executives of Doodles and score major points. It
would be a great boost for my career, Sweetums. And where I succeed, we
succeed.”

It shouldn’t bother her that Bradley had gone from
shaming her about wrestling to begging for tickets. But it did.

“I’ll talk to my uncle. Is that the only reason you
stopped by this morning?”

“Of course not.” He reached for her hand and brushed
his thumb across her knuckles. His touch felt unusually cool. “I wanted to talk
about us.”

She held her breath.

“I was a little hard on you last night, but I didn’t
know what to think. You’d lied to me. Imagine, you dancing around half-naked in
front of thousands of people. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.”

If you only knew
.
She cleared her throat.

“I didn’t know either,” she said, remembering her
total abandon last night, her incredible want, need and possession of Jack’s
body.

She shoved the memory out of her brain and refocused
on salvaging the crumbling pieces of her perfect life.

“Bradley—”

“Wait, I’m not finished.” He put up his hand. “Relationships
have their ups and downs, their good days and bad. But with a little luck, this
bad experience may have turned out to be a good one for all of us.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s strengthened our bond and provided a valuable
business opportunity which means more stability for our future.” He reached
into his pocket. “I guess what I’m saying is, I’m sorry I over reacted. I’d
like to try again.”

He placed the velvet box on the breakfast bar.

Emotion numbed her throat. This was what she wanted,
right? Yet images of last night replayed in her mind: Jack’s sweet kisses, his
gentle, arousing touch.

Last night was an anomaly, a fluke. Something she
never would have tasted had Bradley not rejected her.

She stared at the box and considered all that it
represented: her dream of security, happiness, and the perfect life.

She reached for it.

“Wait,” Bradley said.

She snatched her hand back as if she’d been caught
sneaking Macaroons out of Mama’s cookie jar.

“I’m going to leave the ring with you, but first I’d
like to make a few things clear.”

She studied his face, his tight-knit brows and pursed
lips. So, this proposal came with conditions?

“I expect loyalty and complete honesty,” he began.
“There will be no secrets between us. Our goal is to devote our lives to one
another’s professional success, which in turn will lead to personal happiness.
That’s my offer, Francine.”

It sounded more like a business deal than a marriage
proposal. She wondered if confessing what she’d done last night would be a deal
breaker.

Snap out of it.
He’s giving you another chance
.

Besides, she wasn’t engaged last night when she gave
herself to Jack, loved Jack.

Love? No, it couldn’t be love, it was carnal desire,
the serpent that drew you in and left you writhing in pain.

She sighed, realizing she didn’t deserve this ring.
Not unless she told him everything. She watched him deliberately stir his
coffee. It would crush him if she confessed what she’d done on the rebound from
his rejection.

In a way it was Bradley’s fault. She caught herself.
No, Frankie had made the moves on Jack all by herself, risking her chance at
happiness in the process.

He placed his coffee cup on the counter. “What do you
think?”

“I’m glad you stopped by.”

Talk about feeble.

“Me, too, Sweetums. Well, I’d better get going.” He started
for the door. “I heard there’s a special wrestling show coming up this Friday
in Chicago. I don’t suppose you could get tickets for that one? It would score
big points for me, for us. Teamwork, that’s the key.”

“I’ll look into it.” She absently followed him to the
door, her mind a blur of thoughts.

“Consider my proposal, Francine.” He turned and
narrowed his eyes. “Loyalty and honesty. An easy job description for a woman
like yourself.”

With a hand at the small of her back, he kissed her on
the lips. She felt nothing. No electricity, no excitement.

Tell him. Tell
him now!

She couldn’t ruin everything they’d built together in
a matter of seconds. And what about her perfect life?

“Oh, and Frankie, it goes without saying that your
wrestling days are over. You won’t be prancing around the ring dressed like a
Vegas showgirl, right?”

“Tiger lady. I was dressed like a tiger lady.”

“You’ve had your fun. Time to get on with our future.”
He dropped a perfunctory kiss atop her head. “That’s a good girl.”

Forcing a smile, she shut the door. A perfect, safe
life had been her goal ever since she was a little girl. Glancing toward the
bedroom, she realized she’d been anything but good last night.

She mulled over Bradley’s offer, a future of healthy
meals and budget vacations. He planned everything down to his thirteen-minute
shower in the morning and the hundred-and-two-degree temperature of his milk at
bedtime. He calculated every penny spent, picked every movie by how much money
it grossed at the box office a week after it opened, and lined up his canned
peas, kidney beans, and fruit cocktail by expiration date.

Frankie liked being in control, but did she really
want this?

Yet Bradley offered stability, security, and a nice,
normal life, a classy life with a handsome prince and new partner at Lundstrom,
Marks and Beetle.

Yeah, and how real is a life without love?

But she loved Bradley in her own way. She had to. Why
else would she have invested three years in their relationship?

Bradley’s tone bristled the hairs at the nape of her
neck. Conditions, everything came with conditions. Whereas, Jack acted from his
heart, lived life to the fullest and rode the wave of uncertainty. A part of
Frankie was fascinated by this strategy. She wondered what it was like to go
with the flow and not have to micromanage all the time. She’d like to give it a
try.

But not with Bradley. That man couldn’t go with the
flow if he wore two life jackets and sailed in a steel-bottomed boat.

She struggled to make sense of it all, of her perfect,
precarious relationship with Bradley:
Marry
me, don’t marry me; marry me only if you can commit to complete honesty
.

Yet she’d cheated on him, hadn’t she? No, he’d broken
their pre-engagement. She wasn’t being disloyal. Technically she didn’t have to
bare her soul to Bradley about the wonder of last night with another man.

Jack. The man she loved.

“No!” she cried, marching to the breakfast bar and
taking a swig of coffee. There was no denying the fact she loved Jack in a
totally uninhibited and undefined way. She loved the unstable, transient,
fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants pro wrestler. But how did he feel about her? She
considered all the things he’d done for her. He’d always protected her, held
her, took care of her.

Loved her?

Dishonesty had been her mistake all along. No more.
She’d start with Jack. She’d tell him how she felt. Okay, so they were polar
opposites and wanted different things out of life. It didn’t matter. She had to
tell him she loved him, that she would entertain the notion of living on the
edge and going with the flow, if it meant being with him.

She had to find out if they could be more than show
biz partners. Frankie would finally do it. She’d stop thinking with her head
and let her heart lead for a change.

***

There weren’t a lot of women he’d let throw him out of
bed or send him half naked onto a public balcony, but then Frankie McGee wasn’t
a lot of women.

She was
the
woman, Jack’s heart and soul, his imperfect, aggravating life mate. If only he
could convince her of that.

Jack stood in the corner of the cement balcony out of
view of a family getting into their minivan in the parking lot below. She could
have at least given him his pants for crying out loud, but she’d been in a
hurry to hide his presence from her fiancé.

Her fiancé? Not for long, not if Jack had anything to
say about it.

Okay, so maybe he and Frankie weren’t the most
compatible people in the world but they shared something more important than
compatibility. They shared a physical and emotional connection more powerful
than anything he’d ever experienced in his life.

He wasn’t about to let her go. Not in this lifetime.

Butch always said the best things in life were the
ones you had to fight for the hardest. Frankie definitely fell into that
category.

She’d accused him of ruining her life? Hell, she
didn’t have a clue. Her well-planned, anal-retentive life with Mr. Accountant
USA was going to ruin her chance at happiness, and Jack wouldn’t let that
happen. Frankie had saved him from the loneliness and desperation of the business.
She’d not only taught him to take charge of his life but she’d cared for him in
a way no other woman had.

She loved him. Somewhere, deep down in that place she
kept locked and under armored guard, Frankie knew she loved Jack, and it scared
the hell out of her.

Awake for the better part of the night, he’d plotted
how to make it work.

Because he loved her, too.

They would have a great life. He’d rediscover painting
and make public appearances, continuing his efforts as a positive role model. A
lot of retired wrestlers were successful rallying for good causes because of
their superstar popularity.

Maybe it wasn’t the life Frankie had envisioned with
regular paychecks and business socials. But when it came to love, sometimes you
had to sacrifice.

“Listen to me. Like I’m an expert on love,” he said.

No, he wasn’t an expert. What he’d had with Sandra
wasn’t anything like this, and the handful of other flings were merely his way
to pass the time and take his mind off the discontentment of his life.

Discontentment. One feeling he looked forward to
giving up very, very soon. When he finished his contract he’d move on with his
life. He’d more than paid his dues. It was time to reap the rewards.

With Frankie.

He closed his eyes. The crisp morning air brushing
against his half-naked body reminded him of Frankie’s delicate hands touching
his chest, and working their way down to other, more intimate places. He took a
deep, steadying breath. In a minute he was going to break through the sliding
glass door with his bare hands. He wouldn’t let that pencil-necked geek talk
his way back into her life. He’d had his chance and blown it. Now it was time
to get out of the way and let Jack make his plea for her love.

He pressed his face to the window, straining to see
through the sheers. He spied Frankie amble into the bedroom as if her mind was
a million miles away. He tapped on the glass. She glanced up, but he couldn’t
quite make out the emotion in her eyes. Sadness? Frustration?

He banged on the door, to hell with the audience in
the parking lot. Flashing strangers was nothing compared to the thought of
losing her. Desperation drove him to pound harder. She opened the door and
ambled away from him into the living area. He followed her inside, his heart
racing.

He could do this. He could tell her he loved her.