Hard to Handle (30 page)

“I don't know what to do, Stasia. I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't.”

“Well, I don't buy it.”

Filled with hope, Jasmine stared at her wide-eyed. “You don't?”

“No.” She wasn't sure if she should get involved or not, but seeing Jasmine's desperation, Stasia couldn't hold herself back. “Let me ask you this. Do you think Barber cares for you, or just wants you?”

“Hard to say.” Jasmine stepped back to lean on the wall and stared unseeing at the fighters currently sparring. “He's nice. Courteous. But I've known guys who'd do that just to get in my graces.”

“Men are men.” Stasia laughed. “But…have you seen him with any other woman recently?”

After she thought about it, Jasmine brightened. “No.” She straightened from the wall. “In fact, he told me he wasn't cut out for celibacy and that I should take pity on him.”

Huh. “If he just wanted sex, he could have sex. Right?”

Nodding, Jasmine said, “Groupies are always hanging around, coming on to him. He flirts, but I haven't seen him actually show interest in any of them.”

“Not since you came along.”

She grinned.

“Maybe Barber would find out that he wants you in bed
and
in the band.”

“You really think so?”

“What I think doesn't matter so much. It's what you think. Is it worth the risk to you? What if you sleep with him and he fires you from the band?” When Jasmine winced, Stasia hurried to say, “I can't imagine him doing that. In the three weeks you've been performing with him, everyone has raved. You two are incredible together. Barber's a good businessman, so he's surely recognized that.”

Suddenly Jasmine's shoulders went back. “You're right. This is ridiculous. I'm tired of sleepless nights and feeling tense all the time.”

“Think it through, though, Jasmine. There's always the possibility that things won't work out between the two of you. Barber's been a bachelor for a long time, and he's set in his ways. He's outrageous and used to doing what he wants, when he wants. If you two fall apart, it would be awkward to perform together. You might not even want to be in the band.”

“You're right.” She scrunched up her brows and paced a short distance away, then came right back. “I'm going to talk to Barber, feel him out about it.”

From behind them, Barber said, “I'm all for you feeling me out, or feeling me up, but about what in particular?”

Both women froze. Stasia cleared her throat. “Dang, Barber. For a big guy, you're awfully sneaky.”

He blinked at Stasia, then turned his attention to Jasmine. “Or maybe it's just that you two babes were so busy plotting no good that you didn't notice a two-hundred-pound man approaching.”

“That's possible,” Jasmine said.

Barber's gaze went all over her. “God above, girl, I do love the way you pull an outfit together.”

Stasia smiled. Today Jasmine wore tight black boot-cut jeans and a white thermal shirt with red and black trim. She had her hair pulled up in a ponytail at the very top of her head so it hung down around her face like a fountain. Exaggerated makeup gave her an edgy rocker look that Barber all but drooled over.

Deciding to leave the lovebirds alone, Stasia told Jasmine, “I'll wait up front.”

She was standing by the door, watching the street lights come on as night fell, when Uncle Satch caught up to her.

“Got a minute, Anastasia?”

She greeted him with a hug. “How are you, Satch?”

“Well, now, that's the thing.” He rubbed his chin. “I'd be doing better if you'd be doing your job.”

“My job?”

“Harley dodges more press than he accepts.”

Her mouth fell open. Irritation set in. “How can you say that? You have him running from one interview to another. For weeks now he's spent over half his waking day preparing for the fight, and then hours more appeasing your idea of good press.”

Her verbal attack had Satch backing up a step. “Bring it down already, will you?”

Stasia looked around and noticed that a few people glanced their way. Her and her big mouth. “Sorry. But you're pushing him too hard,” she said lower, determined to make her point. “Harley is a big boy who can make his own decisions,
good
decisions, if you'd just give him a chance.”

Satch bunched up on her. “I thought we were on the same side.”

“I'm on Harley's side,” she assured him. “I've been studying the sport, and Dakota agrees, he doesn't need to seek out promotion. The promoters that come to him would be more than enough.”

“Women.” Satch threw up his hands. “You know how long I've been involved in the SBC? Since Harley first started, which is a lot longer than Ms. Dakota and you combined. You honestly think I don't know what's best for him?”

Gently, Stasia said, “No, I don't.”

His face went red.

“I'm sorry, Satch, but I think you're more ambitious than Harley is. All he wants is the belt. Not the fame or the attention. It's something personal and private to him. Something he's proving to himself, not to anyone else. When he gets the belt, the rest will come naturally. He'd enjoy the journey more if you backed off a little.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Stasia saw a tall, strong form coming toward them, and she glanced over to see Harley staring at her as he approached.

She gave Satch notice by turning to greet Harley. “All done?”

He stopped in front of them, his blue eyes narrow with suspicion. “Yeah.” He looked at his uncle. “What are you two so chatty about?”

“I was asking Stasia if she'd accompany you to a pre-fight party here in town. Plans are in the works right now.”

The suspicion lingered. “Now you want to wrangle my dates for me?”

“It wouldn't be a date. I suggested Stasia because you need a smart woman with you, not some…” He glanced at Stasia, and amended the slur against women. “Someone more than just arm candy.”

“And I qualify? Why, Satch, I can certainly see where Harley gets his charm.”

Harley smiled at her.

Satch wasn't amused. “This is serious.” He glared a warning at Stasia. “Instead of just photographers, they'll have a television crew. They plan to piece together bits of conversation and run them with the live interviews in Vegas the night of the fight.”

“Where's the party taking place?”

“That's the exciting part. Dean's gym has gotten so much good press, Drew Black wants it here, in Harmony. After shooting some clips of the town, the different fighters, and the gym, we'll have the party at Roger's, and the whole town will get in on it.”

“That's fine, Uncle Satch.” Harley took Stasia's hand. “Is it a date?”

“Can I at least try to look like arm candy?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Harley looked around, spotted Jasmine and Barber stationed in a corner, their foreheads almost touching as they talked. After a roll of his eyes, he yelled, “You driving her home, Barber, or should Stasia wait?”

Barber waved him off.

Laughing, Harley said, “There you go.” He put a hand on his uncle's nape. “Uncle Satch, you want to come along with us to grab a bite to eat?”

“I'll get a burger on the fly. Thanks anyway.”

“You sure? You haven't had dinner yet, have you?”

“I don't want to be a third wheel. Besides, I have some other stuff to do yet. You'll be at the bar at nine?”

“I'll be there.”

He looked at Stasia. “You going to be there, too?”

“Unless it's a problem.”

“No. Of course not.” He gave Stasia a calculated look. “Keep the distractions at bay.” He stalked off toward Dean and Simon.

“That was interesting.” Harley started them out the door. “Anything going on between you two that I should know about?”

She didn't want to lie to him. Holding her coat closed against a brisk wind, she said, “Just a mild disagreement, that's all.”

“About what?”

Trying not to offend, Stasia measured her words. “I like your uncle, but I think he's too invested in your success. He's young enough and smart enough that he should have a life all his own, not one tied so closely to you.”

“I know. It gets tedious. But don't worry about it. Satch is pretty damn good at what he does, he just goes overboard on occasion. I trust him, and that's what's most important.”

Rather than be a hypocrite, Stasia decided to let Harley handle his life how he saw best. “Sounds like you have it all in hand.”

He took her keys from her and unlocked her truck. “Now if I could just get you in hand, I'd be doing okay.”

She looked up at him. “Meaning?”

“I need you.” He curled a big, warm hand around her nape. “I'm starving for you.”

The words, combined with his low voice, weakened her resolve. “Are all fighters as persistent as you?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you're sexier than most.”

His breath frosted between them. He lifted his other hand and held her face up to his. “Maybe I'm just more desperate than the others.” He put a quick, teasing kiss on the bridge of her nose and stepped back. “I'll be right behind you, Stasia. Drive careful.” And with that, he left for his Charger.

Stasia slumped against her truck. Holy cow, much more of his sexual teasing and she'd be the desperate one.

Who was she kidding? More than once, she'd considered taking the same advice she'd given to Jasmine. It was fear that held her back.

Fear of having her heart broken.

Fear of getting in the way of Harley's dream.

Fear of losing because she never even tried.

For one of the few times in her life, she wasn't sure what to do. She told herself to wait until after he'd fought. It was only another three weeks away. Not that long.

Roger now rented the room to her at a weekly rate. She was used to hotel rooms and temporary situations. It was her life.

But this time, with each day that passed, she found herself liking the town of Harmony and the people there more and more.

With all decisions well out of reach, Stasia got behind the wheel, fired up the truck, and kicked on the heater. Until she knew for sure what to do, she'd simply continue to be with him, encouraging him, listening…falling in love.

B
ARBER
held her hand tight and charged through the foyer of the hotel. A few people tried to talk to him, but he ignored them.

Breathless, rushing to keep up, Jasmine whispered, “Barber, you're embarrassing me.”

“I'll embarrass myself if I don't get you alone. Trust me. You don't want this playing out in the hotel lobby.”

Her hand tightened in his, then she said, “Okay. Hurry.”

Damn, but she turned him on. He reached his door, fumbled with the damn key card, and finally fell into the room with her. In a heartbeat he had her on the bed, kissing her long and hard and relishing the taste of her.

“Coats,” she managed to say.

“Clothes,” he agreed, and sat up long enough to jerk off his outerwear, then his long-sleeved tee. “Well?” She lay there, watching him, her green eyes bright and filled with excitement.

“You are so gorgeous.”

“Oh hell, woman, don't do that. Trust me, I don't need any more encouragement.” He stood, hopped on one foot while he jerked off a boot, then the other boot. Hands on his belt, his gaze glued to her, he said, “Jasmine. Get some clothes off. Fast.”

“Okay.” She stood without his burning haste and removed her coat. Next she opened her snug-fitting jeans, smiled at him, and pulled down the zipper.

A striptease? Hell yeah.

“Wait.” Barber shucked off his jeans and stretched out in the bed. He was already hard, drawing her attention to his dick. “Go on now. Let me enjoy the show.”

She giggled.

And even that ridiculous sound turned him on.

“How awesome it is,” she said as she removed her boots, “to have a musician be so buff and sexy.”

“As long as it gets you in bed, I'm glad.”

“You blow me away, Barber.” She pulled her top off over her head and folded the shirt, then set it aside on the dresser.

“That's a hell of a look for you, babe. Tight jeans and a bra. If you came onstage like that, the audience would riot.”

“I'm not much for showing off my body.”

“Just for me, then. I like that idea even better.”

She must've liked it too, because she smiled as she pushed away her jeans.

Barber soaked in the sight of her, the lushly rounded curves, the way her pubic hair showed through her sheer pink panties. Breathing hard, unable to look away from her, he put a hand to his dick. “Now the bra.”

She watched his hand as he wrapped it around himself. She breathed hard too, and reached behind herself to release the catch. The bra dropped to the floor.

Barber growled. “Great rack, baby. Really great.”

Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, she bent and down they went, all the way to her ankles. She stepped out, and when she straightened, she was completely naked.

“Your hair,” Barber rasped, so turned on he felt on fire.

“Okay.” Reaching up, Jasmine pulled out the band that held her hair constrained atop her head. The long curls tumbled down around her shoulders, wound around her breasts, her nipples.

He groaned.

Suddenly a little shy, she held up her hands, posed, and said, “Well?”

With complete honesty, he said, “I could come just looking at you.”

Her breath shuddered out. “You are so overly sexual.”

“No, just honest.” Turning to reach the nightstand, Barber got out a box of condoms and quickly rolled on one. “Come here, Jasmine.”

After stepping over to the side of the bed, she touched the blankets and hesitated. “I've dreamed about this so many times, I can't quite believe I'm actually doing it.”

She was so cute—and young. Barber thought of her age, only twenty-two, and the fact that she couldn't have as much experience as him. He shouldn't rush her, but damn, his patience had ended about two seconds after getting into the room.

“Come here, woman. Let's make out.” He caught her hand and tumbled her into the bed. Praying he'd be able to hold out until she was ready, Barber pinned her under him and kissed her silly.

To his surprise, he lost himself in the taste of her, her soft curves, her warmth. She was young and tender, receptive to his every touch, and when he slipped a finger into her, she was already wet and hot and more than ready.

He couldn't get enough of kissing her everywhere, but she was just as busy touching and tasting him.

Before long, it was Jasmine panting and pushing him back to say, “Stop teasing, Barber, and get on with it. I can't take much more.”

“I love a demanding woman.” He settled between her thighs, looked into her glittering eyes, and said, “Hold on tight, baby. I have a feeling this is going to be a hard ride.”

“Oh goody. I hope so.” She put her arms around his neck, locked her ankles at the small of his back.

With her every word prodding him, Barber positioned himself, pushed into her and captured her gasp with a searing kiss.

As he'd predicted, his control slipped and he rode her hard.

But she loved it, matching him with every thrust, digging her nails into his buttocks, biting his shoulder and then crying out just when he thought he wouldn't last another second.

Barber felt her inner muscles squeezing him, felt her nipples stiff against his chest, and he let himself go.

A minute or two later, Barber felt her squirming. He smiled and said, “You okay?”

“You weigh a ton and I can't breathe.”

He laughed and rolled to the side, but put a hand on her thigh. “You are so damn hot.”

Knowing he should get up, and actually getting up, were two different things. Barber faded out, and probably dozed for ten or fifteen minutes—until he heard her sniffle.

His eyes shot open. He looked over at her, and she was still flat on her back, her beautiful hair spread out over her pillow, spilling onto his pillow. Her mouth quivered.

Ah hell. “Really, Jassy, I'd prefer that you not cry.”

The sound of his voice seemed to set her off.

“My name is
not
Jassy.” She launched herself from the bed and stormed around the room, upset and pissed and looking ready to flay him.

Eyeing the spent condom, Barber considered a quick trip to the john, but he preferred watching Jasmine and her antics. He grabbed a tissue and disposed of it in the waste can, then scooted up in the bed.

Watching as Jasmine moved around his room naked, her hair like a wild red cape, he asked, “What's the problem now?”

She slanted him a look so mean, Barber drew back. “Good God, woman. Did I leave you wanting?”

“What? No!”

Barber knew he hadn't, but it was nice that she'd admit it. “So then why all the theatrics?”

“Don't you even think of replacing me.”

Ah. He hid his grin and asked, “In my bed, or in the band?”

She went blank for one second, then said, “Either!”

“Hmmm.” Barber watched as she struggled into her panties and wrestled with her bra. “Where exactly are you going?”

“Away from here to think.”

Not likely. He wasn't done with her, not by a long shot. Patting the bed, he told her, “Come here and let me help.”

She paused with her bra unhooked. “Help how?”

“I'll give you a rubdown. You look tense.”

“Barber…”

He could see her weakening already, and he loved it that she was as physically attracted to him as he was to her. He also loved her amazing talent. And her girly ways. And her body.

Definitely her body.

He patted the bed again.

Dashing away the tears, Jasmine glared at him, then flounced over to the bed. Instead of sitting beside him, she sat with her back against the footboard and stretched out her legs. “My feet are killing me. You can start there.”

He loved her temper too, and the way she always tried to get one up on him. “Yes, ma'am.” Hell, he even loved her feet. They were small and cute. Knowing it'd throw her, he announced, “I'd like to introduce you to Drew Black.”

Her brows came down. “Who is he?”

“President of the SBC. Nice guy. Incredible businessman. I'm contracted to perform live for some of the fights, and to have my music play at others. I think he'll like what you add to the mix.”

Worry clouded her eyes. Watching him, she swallowed, hesitated. “What if he doesn't?”

Barber shrugged. “Then to hell with him.”

She breathed slow and deep. “Barber?”

“Hmmm?”

“My feet are fine now.”

He rubbed his thumbs into her arches. “Good.”

“I think I'd like for you to work on something else now.” She crawled up the bed toward him. “Something else that's…aching.”

“Yeah?” Damn, but he was getting hard again already.

She crawled right up and over his body until she straddled his lap. “Yes.”

That was one hell of a turnaround on her part, and Barber wondered at it. Did she want him again because he was willing to make her a priority in the band?

Because she saw him as a way to promote her own singing career?

Disliking that idea a lot, Barber put his hands on her thighs, looked into her eyes, and asked, “Why the quick change of heart, doll?”

She cupped his face and kissed him. “Because you're a man who does what he wants to do, without coercion.” She wiggled, getting more comfortable and making him nuts in the process. “And that must mean that you want me, Jasmine Petri, or we wouldn't be here, right?”

Women were so damned confounding. “My wanting you was ever in doubt?”

“Of course it was.”

“And here I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“Well, I thought you wanted every woman.”

“No.” Barber shook his head, then rethought that. “Okay, maybe most, but not all.” He laughed when she tried to hit him. “And not anymore.” Then with total gravity, “Not since you.”

Her eyes warmed. “Seriously?”

“You bowl me over, woman. I haven't been able to see straight. And I haven't been with anyone since I met you.”

She sucked in her breath, grinned hugely. “Barber?”

“Yeah, doll?”

Toying with his chest hair and not quite meeting his gaze, she said, “If it'll really make you more comfortable, I'll quit the band.”

Ah hell. Now how could he not love that? “If you do, then I'll have to quit, too.”

On a deep inhalation, she locked eyes with him. Her breath came out in a whoosh. “You mean that?”

Barber pulled her down to him and gave her a smacking kiss. “I mean to keep you very close at hand, Jassy.” He settled his hands on her plump behind. “Whatever it takes.”

S
IMON
followed Harley's line of vision to where the ladies had just entered. “They've all become pretty friendly.”

“Yeah.” Harley sipped his ice water with a twist of lime. He was nearly on weight, but saw no reason to risk added calories.

“Dakota likes her.”

Sensing that Simon had something on his mind, Harley said, “You've probably got less than one minute before they join us. Might as well spit it out.”

Crossing both arms on the table, Simon nodded. “The fight is only a few weeks away.”

“I'm ready.”

Frowning in intense thought, Simon hedged, then made a decision. “I want to give you some advice that I had trouble following when Dakota had me running in circles.”

Harley gave up his perusal of Stasia and the way she looked in fashionably worn jeans and a V-neck black sweater. “Hell, Sublime. From what I can tell, she's still running you in circles.”

“True.” Simon grinned. “I imagine she always will. But the difference is that I stopped trying to fight it.”

“Meaning?”

“You've got more innate talent than just about any other fighter I've worked with. I have complete faith in your ability to defeat Kinkaid in any scenario. If the fight stays standing, you can outbox him, outkick him, and outthink him. If it goes to ground, your grappling is heads and tails better than his. You're faster, and stronger.”

“Is this a pep talk, or is the flattery going somewhere?”

“The point is, I can see this fight ending with a knockout or a submission. If I was a betting man, I'd say it'll end in the first round.”

Harley waited.

“But I can also see you making a mistake and giving Kinkaid the edge he needs.”

“Fuck that.”