Hard to Handle (29 page)

He shook his head. “You see that?”

“One of your many admirers? They're everywhere, in case you haven't noticed.” Stasia nodded toward the brunette, Crystal, that he'd been dancing with the night that she'd first shown up. “You probably have trouble keeping track of them all, don't you?”

“Jealous?”

She snorted.

Smiling at her, Harley said, “Mostly I meant the damned photographer. The press is going to hound me until the fight. My uncle expects me to play along, but I don't want to have to hassle with every photo-hungry babe around who hopes to get her face in a magazine or on the Net.”

“Without running interference for you—which I won't do—I don't see how I can help with any of that.”

“You can be a more permanent babe.” Before she could object to the endearment, he put a quick, soft kiss on her mouth. “If you're with me when I'm out in public, I can appease my uncle, feed the press what they want, and fend off other women who probably would interfere with my concentration on the fight.”

“But I wouldn't be a distraction for you, huh? Gee, Harley, I'm so flattered.”

Damn, but she amused him. “You know how much I want you, Anastasia Bradley. Never doubt it. But you're easy to be around, more so than most women I've known.”

“Really?” She lifted a brow. “I guess that's a compliment of sorts.”

“There's something else, too.” He flattened both hands on the wall on either side of her head. “If you leave now, I'll spend a lot of time worrying about you. Until we hear back from the cops on your crazy stalker, it'll be easier for me to have you close at hand, where I can see that you're okay.”

She touched his chest. “I appreciate the concern, Harley. But the thing is, I'm not sure I can be around you and
not
try to help. My advice is free, but it can be a bother.”

“I know how to tune out the noise when I'm in training.

“Noise?” She playfully swatted him.

That she wasn't insulted and instead chose to laugh with him proved his point. Harley captured her hand, then caught the other hand, too. Keeping her bright gaze locked in his, he pinned both of her wrists behind her back and leaned down until his mouth just barely touched hers. “The way you're dressed tonight, it's a wonder I can think straight. So do me a favor and tone down the sexy.”

“I'll do my best.”

Harley couldn't help himself. He kissed her, and even knowing the photographer was right there, snapping one photo after another, he got carried away.

Her mouth opened under his, she arched her back to press her breasts into his chest, and he knew that if a room was available, he'd have her flat on her back in a heartbeat.

Separating a mere inch from her, he said, “I think you're right. Let's get out of here.”

She kept her eyes closed, her head back. Harley counted his heartbeats, two, three, and she said, “No.”

God, she was torturing him. “Change of heart?”

“It's my brain that makes the rules, Harley. Not my heart.” She opened her eyes and while they held sadness, they also showed stark determination. “My head tells me that sleeping with you would be the wrong thing to do—regardless of how badly I want to.”

“This could be your last chance, honey.” Their hot breaths mingled; he could feel her thundering heartbeat against his chest. “After tonight, it's going to be all prep work. What free time I have will be for promo.”

She shook her head; Harley felt her soft sigh.

“You are one amazing temptation, Harley Handleman. But…” She smiled up at him, then shrugged. “I'm going to have to pass.”

He groaned. “Suit yourself then.”

At that moment, Barber and Jasmine launched into another rousing rock song. Looping his arm around Stasia's shoulders, Harley turned to watch. Thinking of Barber's present dilemma helped him to forget his own throbbing need.

In her present funky getup, Jasmine really did look great, very much a part of the band. And the other guys seemed to have accepted her, not that Barber gave that part of it much thought. He ran the band, and the rest of the guys followed. They were an easy group, but they knew the real talent was Barber.

Their success hinged on him.

Anyone with eyes could see that Barber had the hots for the new redhead, in a big way. But that played into their presentation. They fed off each other, and the chemistry vibrated in the music, in the depth of their lyrics.

When the song ended and the audience roared its approval, Stasia said, “They're breathtaking together, aren't they?”

Harley nodded. “Now Barber has to make some tough decisions.”

“Like?”

“The girl, or the gig?”

Without looking at him, Stasia said, “If he actually cares about her, he should take the girl.”

“It's his career.” Touching Stasia's chin, Harley brought her face around to his. “He has to choose the gig—at least for now.”

Whether or not she understood him, Harley couldn't say. But after he won the title belt, he'd have more time to devote to Stasia—and more time to explore his growing feelings for her.

Six weeks. Surely he could hold it all together for that long.

I
GNORING
his feelings for Stasia proved harder than Harley had ever imagined. Three weeks had passed since she'd agreed to stick around and be his cover for the press.

He spent a lot of hours at the gym, and a few nights with promotion. Overall, he was in the best shape of his life. Stronger, faster, more fine-tuned. He was injury-free and his body felt great.

He'd just finished going five six-minute rounds with Simon, and he wasn't winded. He could run three miles in under twenty minutes, and did so every other day without fail. He had great cardio. His body was shredded, without an ounce of fat to be found.

With the fight only a few weeks away, he had more than enough to occupy his thoughts, but still, he spent what little spare time he had wanting Anastasia.

In the middle of his preparations to take the title belt, he'd stupidly become obsessed with her. He didn't let it interfere with his training, and he wasn't sure if anyone else had noticed. Uncle Satch had no idea, because if he did, he'd be bitching.

For that matter, Dean and Simon would be giving him hell, too.

Did Anastasia realize, or was she as duped as everyone else?

Harley heard her voice and at the same time, he felt her presence. Damn. It didn't help his situation that she now felt free to frequent the gym. On any given day she showed up with a notepad and pen, jotting down observations, studying equipment, watching old tapes.

Harley knew she wanted to learn as much about the sport as she could, so he didn't discourage her. And as long as he kept her close at hand, he knew nothing could happen to her.

Although there'd been no more incidents, the police had been unable to confirm her ex-client's whereabouts. Far as they were concerned, Larry Grimes could be on vacation, so his lack of appearance didn't implicate him in any way. Without some evidence to go on, they weren't willing to pursue him. They took a report and told Harley and Stasia to contact them if anything else happened, but that was the extent of their investigation.

Stasia's laugh reached him, and Harley turned to look at her. As he'd requested, she'd toned down the sex appeal by wearing trim jeans with bulky sweaters and oversize sweatshirts.

It didn't help.

In fact, the casual clothing only made him more curious to see her naked, to touch her body all over. He remembered the feel of her that night at the station, how her legs and hips had looked in that body-hugging skirt, and it was enough to make his heart race.

“Shit.” Standing at the back of Dean's gym, covered in sweat, Harley stared toward the far corner where Dakota explained training techniques to Stasia and Jasmine. He was done for the day, but instead of daydreaming about Stasia's body, he should be concentrating on his upcoming fight.

“Yeah,” Simon said. “Sorry about that.” As one of Harley's sparring partners, Simon was equally sweaty. He lifted a water bottle, tipped his head back, and let a stream of water pour into his mouth.

He passed the bottle to Harley.

“For what?” Harley took a drink, then capped the bottle and tossed it toward Barber.

One leg bent and his back against the wall, Barber caught it. “Thanks.”

Simon nodded toward the women. “Dakota is so at home here now, she sees no reason not to march other women through.” He swiped a forearm over his face. “If it bothers you—”

“It's fine.” Harley picked up a towel. Far as he was concerned, the damned fight couldn't come soon enough. Once he annihilated Kinkaid, he planned to get Anastasia in his bed—whatever it took to convince her.

“What I'd like to know,” Barber said, “is why the hell Jasmine is tagging along. She's not even interested in fighting.”

“She's interested in you,” Harley pointed out.

“And she doesn't have that many friends in town yet.” Simon grinned. “Unless you want her to hang out with the rest of the band?”

“No.” Barber pushed to his feet. “I already told those bozos what'd happen if they even look at her funny.”

Dean came up with a chart in his hand. He took one look at Barber and Harley and he shook his head. “They're pathetic, aren't they?”

Simon just grinned.

“It's bullshit,” Barber complained as he threw the towel to the floor and glared at the women. “Here we are doing without and being miserable because of it, and they go about their day, smiling and chatting as if they don't miss sex at all.”

“Speak for yourself,” Simon said. “We married men go to bed happy.”

“
Every
night,” Dean added.

“So that's why your mood is so mellow.” Harley grinned. “I did wonder.”

“Damn straight. Married life is sweet.”

“It has its rewards,” Simon agreed.

Harley gave Barber a shove. “Maybe Jasmine doesn't know what she's missing yet. You should try telling her.”

“Already have,” Barber said. “But she's stubborn.”

“Or smart,” Dean said.

“Or maybe she just has high standards,” Simon added.

Trying not to laugh, Harley said, “You know, it could be Barber's idiotic rule about not sleeping with band members.” He looked toward Jasmine and saw her watching Barber. “She's hooked, man. All you have to do is reel her in.”

Barber gave him an evil look. “I'm done.” He headed for the showers.

Simon watched him go. “I do believe he's lovesick.” Then he grinned. “I like it.”

When he finished laughing, Dean asked Harley, “How's the elbow?”

“Perfect. No problems. I feel great all over.”

“Here on out, I only want you to go seventy, maybe eighty percent. We'll concentrate on situational drills. Light sparring, specific kicks. Your takedown defense is good, but we'll continue with that. I have some new guys coming in to work with you. We'll mix it up a lot.”

“Sounds good.” Harley watched some of the other fighters as they watched Stasia. Surprisingly, it didn't bother him much because he knew she wasn't the type to play off them. Stasia wouldn't lead them on, was never more than polite to them, and most times, she barely noticed their efforts to get her attention.

Uncle Satch came in the front door and made a beeline to the back of the gym. He went around the full-size ring, the cage, and past a lot of fighters in various acts of exercise and practice.

He paid no attention to the women.

Before he'd quite reached Harley, he called out, “You have another interview. Tonight. I set it up at Roger's for nine o'clock.”

Dean slapped Harley's shoulder in commiseration and walked away. They all knew how badly he hated the press stuff, and for a few weeks it had lightened up. But Satch pushed hard, more so than other managers.

Simon stayed beside him and listened as Satch reached them and gave the details.

“Kinkaid says he challenged you and you hid behind Simon.”

“So?”

Bristling on his behalf, Satch said, “You have to give the right details, set that bastard straight.”

“I already did. There was a reporter there that night. He caught it all.”

“You should have told me! I need to do damage control.”

“I don't know,” Simon said. “Kinkaid is a loose cannon. The more crap he talks, the dumber he's going to look when he gets beat. There's no reason for Harley to get into a bunch of back-and-forth bullshit.”

Conceding to Simon's experience, Satch said, “Maybe. But if an interviewer asks him, he has to explain.”

Harley felt Stasia looking at him. He glanced her way, and saw her concern. Over Satch? Or had something happened? To his uncle, he said, “I'll handle it, Uncle Satch, but no more interviews. I've had enough.”

“But—”

“Don't worry. It'll be fine.”

When he stepped around him to go to Stasia, Satch bristled. “Wait a damn minute.”

“We can talk at home.” Harley lifted a hand in farewell and went to Stasia.

She greeted him with a small smile. “Hey there. You done for the day?”

“I still need to shower—obviously.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I never quite understood the appeal of sweat.”

Harley shrugged. “It comes with the sport.” He smoothed a hand over her glossy dark hair. “You look worried about something. Is everything okay?”

“It's nothing.”

“Tell me anyway.”

She rolled her lips in, considered it, and shook her head. “You don't want to hear it and I don't want to pester you.”

He let out an exasperated breath. “I've been working my ass off for hours. I'm ready to call it a day, but you're over here scowling and now you don't want to say why?” He shook his head. “Why can't women ever give a straight answer?”

“You want it straight? Fine. I don't like the way you let your uncle coerce you into things you don't want to do.”

Harley hadn't expected that. “You're fretting about Uncle Satch?” From his perspective, Satch was just a fact of life, a relative he loved, and one he had to deal with. “Why?”

“You're a smart man, Harley. You have great instincts, and you know how to manage your own career. Yet you constantly let your uncle badger you into stuff. Talk about a distraction. That can't be helpful to you.”

“He's my uncle, Stasia. Family. The only family I have left.” Far as Harley was concerned, that said it all.

“I'm not suggesting you boot him out of your life. Just reclaim the reins, that's all. Set some boundaries for him. Much as you love him, he loves you, so I know he'd understand.”

Done with the ridiculous topic, Harley said, “I'll think about it.”

“I hope you do.”

“What do you have planned? I can be done showering in ten minutes. Want to grab something to eat?”

“I could eat.”

“Why is that always your answer?”

“Because I'm always hungry?” She grinned. “Where would you like to go?”

“Roger's is fine. I have an interview there later anyway.”

“I'll need to change. You can pick me up on your way to the bar if you want. I'll be ready.”

Harley looked out the door. “It's dark already. Be careful, okay?”

“Jasmine is riding with me. We'll be fine.”

Harley hesitated. They'd kept things pretty platonic since her final decision weeks ago. But now…He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “See you in a bit.”

Stasia stood there, unmoving, even as Harley turned away. Damn, but they both were bad off. If only she'd admit it…not that it'd be wise for him to get sexually involved right now. Hell, he didn't have that long before the fight. He'd be better to save it…

Harley laughed at himself. If she said yes right now, he'd be all over her, and they both knew it.

It bugged him that she called all the shots. A lot. Maybe, just for the hell of it, he'd work on her a little.

S
TASIA
watched Harley walk away, knowing he had no idea how he affected her with his nearness. Even hot from his workout, his blond hair slicked back, his chest hair dark with sweat, he had the most incredible body she'd ever seen on a man. In his low shorts and nothing more, he was devastatingly sexy.

Jasmine nudged her. “Seeing these guys mostly naked, all hot and sweaty, is downright torturous, isn't it?”

She glanced at her new friend and laughed. “Barber getting to you?”

“I don't know how much longer I'll last. Did you see him sparring? He's good. Even Dakota said so.” She frowned. “Do you think he's still in love with her?”

“No.” Stasia didn't have to think about it. She'd heard all the rumors, and for weeks now she'd watched Barber and Dakota together. Simon didn't seem worried, and that said a lot. Dakota treated Barber like a best friend, and he reacted to her as he would a little sister. He was protective and sweet, and affectionate. Nothing more.

But with Jasmine…“He's got his eye set on you, and you know it.”

Jasmine nodded. “He wants to sleep with me. He's said so.” She sighed. “Multiple times.”

“Sounds like Barber. He's pretty up front about stuff.”

Jasmine flattened her expression. “If it was just up to me, I'd say yes in a heartbeat. I'm not crazy or a masochist.”

“So what's the problem?”

“I love singing.” Jasmine looked at Stasia with pangs of regret. “And if we get intimate, I can't be in the band.”

“Barber actually said that?” Stasia shook her head. Harley had hinted at Barber's boundaries, but Stasia couldn't believe he'd actually abide by such a lame rule, especially when everyone was aware of the chemistry between them.