Hard to Handle (26 page)

Though Stasia knew Harley's uncle meant well, his insensitivity had no real excuse. “Maybe he thought it'd help for you to have something else to focus on.”

Harley shrugged. “I had to practically start over. I was still considered a new fighter and it wasn't easy to earn that first shot at the belt. I had to go through the ranks to get the same opportunity again.”

“And you did?”

“Yeah. I put all my focus on that damn belt. I trained my ass off, and walked through guys with perfect records.”

“And they offered you another shot.” Stasia touched his arm. “What happened that time?”

Harley narrowed his eyes. “I fucked up. Even with all the time I spent training, I stupidly thought I'd fallen in love.”

A terrible pang squeezed the air from Stasia's lungs. “Why is that stupid?”

“Satch didn't want me fooling around with girls. He wanted me to put all contact with females on the back burner.” He gave her a long look. “Like that would ever happen.”

She smiled.

Silence stretched out as Harley stared toward the parking lot. “It's a long, boring story, but the gist of it is that I thought I was in love with Sandy, so I was busy doing this balancing act.”

“The sport and the girl?”

“Yeah. Satch was never happy, but I was making it work.” He rubbed his thigh. “Or so I thought.”

“What happened?”

“She got hit by a car.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head, stared out the window. “Really fucked her up. Cracked ribs, fractured leg, broken jaw. Sandy was miserable, more miserable than I've ever seen a woman. The guy who hit her…it was one of those freak accident kind of things. The sole on his shoe was loose and it got stuck on the pedal. He couldn't brake.”

Suddenly Harley laughed, and it alarmed Stasia. “Harley?”

“He had insurance, and a shitload of guilt. So much guilt that he visited her at the hospital almost daily.” The corners of his mouth curled. “And I guess that's when they fell in love.”

Blindsided, Stasia just sat there staring at him. She hadn't seen that one coming. Not by a long shot.

“No, I'm not kidding,” he said. “So don't ask. One day Sandy was claiming undying love for me, and then the next thing I knew she tearfully confessed to being in love with someone else. They told me together. Real brave of them. They held hands the whole time.”

“Harley, I'm so sorry.” She couldn't imagine such a thing.

“Far as I know, they're still married.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I got over her quick enough. That wasn't the big problem. The real bitch of it was the gossip. Everyone from neighbors to the SBC organization knew I'd been dumped after missing a damned title fight. Some pitied me, and some thought it was hilarious, a real kick in the ass. I figured it was a lesson to be learned.”

Her mind made an immediate leap, and she spoke before she could censor her thoughts. “That's why you're so controlling now.”

“You think?” Wearing a facetious grin, Harley pretended to ponder that. “Maybe. It's for certain that I now know not to go off half-cocked, mixing up emotion with business. But it's not a whacko reaction, Stasia, so don't start with the amateur analysis again. How I live my life is a deliberate choice to avoid more chaos, not a reaction to a permanently damaged psyche.”

As her brain churned, she barely heard him. “You couldn't control Sandy or how she affected your life, so you ensure that you control other women in the only safe way that you can: in bed.”

Harley shook his head, and even went so far as to flick the end of her nose. “There's that analysis I told you to avoid.”

“Something that obvious hardly has to be analyzed.”

He leaned closer to her. “I like controlling women. It's a turn-on. That's all there is to it. If you'd let me show you—”

Before she could get seduced, Stasia pushed him back. “You can't manipulate life, Harley. It happens, whether you want it to or not.”

“I can decide how it affects me.”

She licked her lips, wishing for a way to convince him. All she could do was share her own truths. “When that woman threatened to kill herself, I realized that every day is a blessing, every breath is a gift.”

“Yeah. I agree.” He opened his Jeep door. “But my biggest gift will be the belt.”

Stasia sat there while Harley came around and opened her door. Her thoughts moiled. She didn't move.

Bracing his hands on the roof of the Jeep, he leaned in. “Thinking about being spreadeagle on my bed?”

“No.” She looked up at him. “I was thinking what an incredible, fascinating, and talented man you are.”

Scowling as if insulted, he straightened and waited for her to get out.

At first, she thought he wouldn't say any more, but right before they entered the bar, he said, “All right, I'll bite. What part of my pathetic life confessions led you to label me as an incredible person?”

Smiling, Stasia leaned into him. “Harley. Some people are born blessed, with everything handed to them. They don't have to work hard, or overcome adversity. And if they're challenged, they fold up like a cheap deck of cards.” She tilted her head back to see him. “But you're a self-made man. You know what you want, and you're going after it, regardless of how many obstacles get thrown in your way. You've lost both parents, gotten through heartbreak, and had some of the rottenest luck I've ever heard of. And still you're an honorable, hardworking man who's willing to help others in need.”

“Jesus.” He put both emotional and physical distance between them. Pulling her along by the hand, he led her forward. “Don't saint me yet, Anastasia. After I've blown your mind with sex, then you can consider it if you want. But not until then.”

Drawing her into the crowded room where the band would play, Harley gave her no opportunity to reply. Seconds later, a roaming photographer started snapping shots.

Stasia didn't understand until Simon, Gregor, and Dean welcomed them to their table, and the talk turned to the title belt.

Harley would be fighting soon, and he hadn't even told her.

Maybe that fact said more than words could. He wasn't going to let her in, and she'd be fooling herself to think otherwise. She couldn't help him. He didn't want or need her help.

It was time to give up.

This time, he'd get the shot, and Stasia would rather never see him again than get in his way.

Tonight, she'd tell him good-bye.

For good.

T
HE
knock on her hotel door nearly caused Jasmine to scream. She was so upset with herself, she wasn't sure what to do.

She'd made out with Barberosa. In the hallway. In front of his friends.

What was she thinking?

She hadn't been, that much was obvious. But it wasn't all her fault, and blast it, she should really give Barberosa a piece of her mind. Once she'd decided that, she forgot about her clothes and her anxiety over his reaction to them, marched across the floor, and threw the door open.

Barber said, “Hey there, ho…” His words trailed off. Mute, his mouth still open as he breathed a little hard and fast, he stepped into her room and kicked the door shut behind him.

His bold staring brought back all of Jasmine's uneasiness. She smoothed her hands over the cinched waist of her top. Eve had sworn that the tank-style corset with pink plaid off-the-shoulder sleeves and lace trim would be appropriate. Jasmine liked it because, although it covered most of her chest, the hook-and-eye closure down the front was edgy and sexy.

It went well with the short black pleated skirt with grommets for style. She wore black hose and ankle boots and some heavy silver jewelry that jangled when she put her hands on her hips. “What?”

“Shhh.” Barber continued to stare. “Just let me soak this in a minute.”

She went hot with…well, maybe not embarrassment. Maybe more like…interest. The way he looked at her, as if he might jump her bones at any second, made her want to jump him.

For too many years, she'd fantasized about Barberosa Henry. She adored everything about him: his music, his voice, his long hair, his incredible physique and bold manner. He was the manliest man she'd ever encountered, but with an edge and an innate sexiness that a blind woman couldn't miss.

Now she was within touching distance of him, and he was clear about wanting her, and he was even more potent up close.

For one brief second, Jasmine closed her eyes and relived that mind-numbing kiss in the hallway. Then she opened them and said, “No, Barberosa.”

As he slowly circled her, he asked, “No?”

She jerked around to keep him from ogling her backside. “
No.
You said it was you or the job, and I chose the job.”

“Yeah, I remember that asinine ultimatum of mine.” His gaze lifted to hers. “Damned stupid of me, huh?”

So much heat glimmered in his dark eyes, Jasmine was starting to feel exposed. Grabbing up her thick coat, she pulled it on and buttoned it up. “It wasn't stupid at all. I've thought about it, and I think it makes perfect sense.”

“Yeah? Why's that?”

“You're not a man who's about to settle down. But I'm not a woman who plays the field.”

“You'd like playing with me, Jasmine.” He held her captive in his gaze as he moved closer. “I promise.”

Oh good grief. As her willpower tried to crumble, she threw up both hands. “No is no, damn it!”

He stopped, his expression enigmatic. “You weren't protesting when I kissed you.”

“I know. I lost my head.”

“In a nanosecond.”

“Braggart!” Truth be known, she was dying to kiss him long before he took the initiative. “You caught me by surprise, that's all.”

“I think I gave you what you wanted.” He eased another step closer. “What you've been wanting. Admit it.”

That did it. Angry tears sprouted, and that only annoyed her more.

“Ah, damn it.” He rocked back on his heels in disgust. “Do
not
start crying.”

She stopped trying to hold Barber back and instead closed the space between them so she could thrust her face near his. “Don't tell me what to do, Barberosa.”

“Barber, damn it,” he grumbled. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Fine. You want the truth,
Barber
? I've daydreamed about you since I first met you. That's right. You. Smoldering hot fantasies.”

His brows rose so high, they disappeared under his long hair. “You don't say?”

She jabbed a finger in his chest. “Women have fantasies—and you're mine. But that's as far as it's going to go because this job is too important to me for me to blow it over a guy, any guy. So,
Barber
, you
will
back off, right now, or so help me—”

“Stow the redheaded temper, toots, I get it.” Putting both hands to the back of his neck, Barber retreated.

In that particular position, his shoulders and biceps looked huge, his chest wide.

Damn, why did he have to be such an appealing man?

He dropped his hands and faced her. “It's not going to go away, you know.”

Willing the moisture in her eyes to stay put, Jasmine said, “I will stomp it into submission.”

The corners of his mouth curled. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. I suggest you do the same.”

He laughed. “You are almost too adorable, do you know that?”

“And you're almost too appealing.” Her smile was mean. “Luckily, I have a lot of fortitude, so I'm sure I'll be able to resist you. And now that we have that settled, do you think we should get going? I don't want to be late my first night.”

Barber went past her and opened the door with a flourish. He stepped back for her to precede him.

Wary of his sudden compliance, Jasmine sidled around him. As she passed, he leaned in and said, “I'll be interested to see how long the fortitude lasts, sweets.”

She glared at him—and kept going.

With a hand to the small of her back, he started her down the hall. “Smashing duds, by the way. You look incredible.”

Damn it. Her knees shivered. “Thanks.”

“If you sing as good as you look tonight, everyone is going to love you as much as I do.”

She stumbled on her own feet. Love her? Now why did he have to go and say things like that?

Jasmine's heart pounded, her tummy flip-flopped, and when they stepped outside, even the cold evening air couldn't ease the heat inside her.

Lord help her, when it came to Barber, she didn't know if her touted fortitude would be enough to save her after all.