Читать книгу Below the Belt - Sarah Mayberry - Страница 9

SHE HAD A TRAINER. And not just any trainer—she had Cooper Fitzgerald. Lying on the ratty couch in the apartment she shared with her grandfather later that night, Jamie lifted the bag of frozen peas from her cheekbone so she could see her grandfather where he was puttering around in the kitchen.

“He wants to see me at his gym first thing tomorrow,” she said.

“I heard. Not deaf yet,” her grandfather said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

She fell silent again, reliving in her mind the moment when her fist connected with her opponent’s jaw and she’d won the fight. All because Cooper showed her the way. Excitement and anticipation bubbled up inside her. With him at her side, she was going to make her mark.

“He’s good,” she said, dropping the bag of peas again. “The way he spotted her weakness like that.”

“Yep. He knows what he’s doing.”

Crossing over from the kitchen, he slid a plate onto the battered coffee table in front of her. Toasted cheese and ham, his specialty.

“Should have more protein after a big fight, but you know my cooking’s not up to much.” He shrugged as he sank into his favorite armchair and rested his plate on his knees.

He was wearing an ancient green shirt her grandmother had bought him back when they were first married, and what was left of his gray hair sat up in tufts over his ears. His once-strong shoulders curled forward with age and tiredness, and the hands that held his plate were thick and twisted with arthritis.

A fierce rush of love filled her. She adored this old man with everything she had. He’d never let her down, never betrayed her, never stopped protecting her. And now it was her turn to do the same for him.

Her critical gaze scanned the room, noting the grayed curtains, the stained walls, the chipped tiles in the kitchenette and the way the stuffing was exploding out of one corner of the couch where the upholstery had given way after years of wear and tear. Arthur Harrison Sawyer deserved better than this. In his day, he had been a boxer of renown, one of the greats who had forged a name for Australian boxers around the world. He’d fought both Muhammad Ali and Frazier before he’d dropped down a weight class and carved out his own niche. He’d fought hard and long and with enormous heart.

He deserved better.

She was going to make things better for him, for both of them. They were going to get out of this apartment. She was going to make sure he had heating in winter and cooling in summer, and that he never had to think twice about buying his monthly copy of The Ring, his favorite boxing magazine, because it was a luxury they couldn’t really afford.

She was going to make it possible for him to hold his head high again after what her father had done. She was going to right the wrong, remind the boxing world that the name Sawyer was an honorable one, a great one, not a symbol of weakness and greed and failure.

“We’ll be able to leave this place soon,” Jamie said as she reached for her toast. She bit into it without testing it for temperature and hissed with pain as she burned the roof of her mouth.

“Every time,” her grandfather said, shaking his head and huffing out a laugh as she lunged for her water glass.

“What can I say? I’m a creature of habit,” she said with a grin.

Leaving her toast to cool some more, she lay back on the couch, repositioned her bag of peas and closed her eyes.

Tomorrow she had her first session with Cooper Fitzgerald. Things were finally on the move.

She frowned as the one reservation she had about her new trainer circled to fill her thoughts, as it had on and off ever since the fight and Cooper’s unexpected appearance in her corner: she didn’t know what had changed his mind about her.

She wanted to think it was because he saw the potential for greatness in her, but she was also uneasily aware that every time they’d met, he’d looked at her the way a man looks at a woman he wants to get busy with.

And she hadn’t exactly not noticed the fact that he was a whole lot of man, either.

Was it going to be a problem? She opened her eyes and stared at the water stain on the ceiling.

She’d make sure it wasn’t a problem, one way or another. This was her shot, and it was way more important than sexual curiosity or whatever it was that existed between them.

Sitting up again, she tested her toast with a finger before taking another bite.

“Smart girl,” her grandfather said with a half smile.

“Absolutely,” she said.

THE MOMENT Jamie Holloway walked in the door of his gym in the inner-west Sydney suburb of Newtown the next morning, Cooper realized he’d bought himself a whole world of trouble when he signed her on.

For starters, every single male in the gym stopped what he was doing the moment he noticed her long legs clad in tight black Lycra, her bodacious ass and her generous breasts. It didn’t matter that she was wearing a loose white T-shirt over her leggings. Or that she was sporting a bruised cheekbone, didn’t have a scrap of makeup on and her hair was pulled back into a tight, high ponytail. She was sexy, hot, gorgeous, and every man in the place knew it and wanted to do something about it.

And that wasn’t even the most disturbing part of it all. No, that honor belonged to the fierce, fundamental surge of jealousy and territorialism he felt when all those male eyes checked her out.

Mine, his body and his animal instincts screamed. Get your freakin’ eyes and minds off her.

He was about to embark on an intimate, intense relationship with her that was supposed to be based on mutual trust. He was about to become her mentor, for Pete’s sake. And all he could think about was how it would feel to have her body against his, skin to skin, and how wet and tight and hot she’d feel as he slid inside her…

Shit.

Take a cold shower and get over it, Fitzgerald.

It wasn’t as if he was hard up for booty action. Hell, he could pick up his phone and have a woman just as sexy and hot in his bed within the hour.

The thought didn’t provide the release valve he needed and he was frowning by the time she’d crossed the gym floor and stopped in front of him, her expression open and sunny.

“You’re late,” he said. “Lesson number one, I expect my fighters to be punctual.”

The smile froze on her lips.

“We couldn’t find a parking spot. My grandfather’s still looking,” she said.

He eyed her coolly. “Warm up, then we’ll talk,” he said.

She frowned, opened her mouth, then shut it again without saying a word. Slinging her bag to one side near the wall, she pulled out a skipping rope and began to jump.

He went over to the counter near the front door and started checking some paperwork his lawyer had sent through, keeping a discreet eye on her all the while.

Slowly, the guys around him stopped gawking and started working out again.

Pathetic. Men really did think with their dicks—and he was as bad as the rest of them.

Arthur Holloway entered a few minutes later, stopping alongside the counter to greet Cooper.

“Hiya,” he said, his gaze sharp as he checked out first Cooper then the gym. “Nice place you got here.”

Cooper glanced around at the raw brick walls, the exposed ceiling beams, the scarred wooden floors and the single regulation boxing ring that occupied the very center of the space. A long time ago the building had originally been a grain store, but it had been a gym for many years now and the smell of leather and sweat had soaked into the mortar. When he’d bought the place he’d repainted, fixed broken windows, installed new bathrooms and equipment and updated the offices, but the place retained its old-school feel.

That and the fact that he was around the place a lot more now that he was retired had helped build membership numbers and business was booming. It didn’t hurt to have pros like Ray training here. Guys who sat behind desks for a living liked to sweat alongside real fighters. Made them feel as if they were playing with the big boys.

“Thanks. You always come to Jamie’s training sessions?” Cooper asked. He hoped he wasn’t going to have problems with the old guy countermanding orders or sticking his oar in.

“Nope. Just wanted to check this place out, make sure it’s everything Jimmy seems to think it is,” Arthur said.

By which the old guy meant check Cooper out.

Cooper was about to respond when he registered that Jamie had moved onto the long bag and was pounding it with a series of powerful kicks.

“Excuse me,” he said. He strode across the floorboards and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of her.

She stopped. Her eyebrows rose toward her hairline as she registered his annoyance.

“What now?”

“From now on, I don’t ever want to see you using your legs to fight again. You got that?” he said. “You’re a boxer. Boxers fight with their fists, not their feet.”

“What?” Her silver eyes flashed defiance. “It’s a good workout, a good warm-up.”

“You lost that first fight and you nearly lost last night because you’re used to relying on your legs too much. Every time you want to fire off a roundhouse or a back kick, you lose precious seconds reminding yourself that you’re in a boxing ring and only your fists are legal,” he said.

She shook her head. “No way. I lost that fight because she was faster than me.”

Why was he surprised that she was disagreeing with him at the very first hurdle? Had he honestly expected anything less from a woman with so much attitude?

He was tempted to yell at her the way his first trainer used to yell at him back when he was young and hot-tempered and lacking in discipline. But Jamie was a smart fighter. She learned quickly when she wanted to—she’d shown him that in spades last night when she took his advice and knocked her opponent out. He wanted to harness those smarts straight off the bat. Going head-to-head with her wasn’t going to achieve that.

“You warm enough to go a few rounds?” he asked.

She looked surprised that he wasn’t pressing the issue.

“Sure.”

Cooper scanned the gym, honing in on Mick. At around a hundred and sixty pounds, Mick was a middleweight like Jamie and only had an inch on her in height.

“Mickey, suit up. I want you to go a few rounds with Jamie,” Cooper called out.

Mick looked as though all his Christmases had come at once. Cooper rolled his eyes. The sooner the rest of the team started to see Jamie as one of the boys, the better.

One of the gym assistants helped Jamie tape and glove up and fitted her with a padded head-guard while Cooper did the same with Mick.

“I don’t want you to go easy on her,” he instructed as he worked.

Mick kept throwing glances Jamie’s way, especially when she pulled off her T-shirt to reveal a tight-fitting sports crop top. Cooper grabbed the other man’s chin and brought his gaze back to meet his own.

“Listen to me. I want you to press her—not too hard, she’s probably still feeling last night’s fight. But I want you to make her sweat, okay?”

Mick nodded. Checking the laces on Mick’s gloves, Cooper gave him the all clear and held the ropes for him to climb into the ring. Then he signaled for Jason, one of his gym assistants.

“Yeah, boss?” Jason asked, his attention glued to Jamie.

“Grab the video camera. I want you to get everything she does,” he instructed.

It was a common enough tool—football players used tape all the time to review plays and understand their own strengths and weaknesses. Jamie was so stubborn and strong-willed that he knew the only way she’d understand his no-kick rule would be if she saw her faulty footwork herself.

Cooper glanced across to see Arthur had joined him, arms crossed over his chest.

“This’ll be interesting.”

“At the very least,” Cooper said.

They grinned at each other. Arthur had a tooth missing, a common hazard for boxers despite the protection of mouth guards. Curious, Cooper studied the other marks that boxing had left on the old guy’s face.

“You used to fight, Ray said?” Cooper asked.

“Did he? Yeah, I’ve seen a few rounds,” Arthur said with a shrug. He kept his focus on the two fighters warming up in the ring and didn’t offer up anything more.

Taciturn old bugger.

Cooper switched his attention back to the ring.

“Okay, let’s get into it,” he ordered.

Jamie and Mick met in the center and tapped gloves before falling into orthodox stances and starting to circle one another. True to form, Jamie was the first to move in, feinting with her right before hitting Mick’s torso with a left cross. Mick let her get a few shots in before he began to work her over. None of the hits were hard or intended to hurt, but both fighters had worked up a sweat within minutes and it didn’t take long for Jamie’s footwork to become compromised as she began to feel the pressure.

Cooper let them fight for a few more minutes before calling a halt.

“Thanks, Mick. Nice work. Jamie, my office,” he said.

Grabbing the video camera from Jason, he led the way to his domain.

By the time Jamie followed a minute later, towel in hand and without her gloves and head gear, he had the camera hooked up to the TV and the tape ready to play.

Jamie’s expression was wary as he gestured her toward a chair opposite his own.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to film us,” she said.

“Didn’t I?”

She was still breathing heavily. In the enclosed space of his office he was very aware of her scent—something fresh and bright that he guessed was her deodorant.

Instead of taking a chair, she leaned against his desk, her butt propped on the edge. He had to force his gaze away from her long legs as she crossed her ankles and leaned back on her arms.

For a fleeting second, he allowed himself to wonder what those thighs would feel like clenched around him as he pounded into her.

“Well, go on,” she said.

He hit the play button and they both watched the opening few skirmishes. As Mick picked up the pace, the first of Jamie’s hesitations appeared.

“Kick,” Cooper said, just in case she hadn’t seen it. “And another one, and another one. You don’t actually throw them, of course, but they’re there. You want to fight with your feet so bad it hurts.”

Her mouth and face grew tight as she watched herself make the same mistake over and over. Finally she called a halt.

“Okay. I get it. You’ve made your point.”

He switched the television off.

“You’ve got some bad habits we need to break.”

She nodded. “Yep. How?”

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

He outlined them to her as she patted the sweat off her face and chest. He followed her movements with his eyes, imagining what her breasts would look like naked, how heavy and smooth they’d feel in his hands. A bead of sweat raced down her belly and he barely resisted the urge to lean forward and trace its path with his tongue. She’d taste sweet and salty at the same time, he bet…

Registering that he had a hard-on, he rolled his chair closer to the desk. He had to stop thinking like this.

“It’s not going to be easy,” he concluded. “It’s going to take time and effort.”

“I’ve got time. I’ve got effort,” she said, straightening from her slouching position against his desk.

Once again, he struggled to keep his gaze on her face.

“Okay. Let’s get started,” he said.

She opened the door and hovered, waiting for him to join her.

“I’ve got to make a quick phone call,” he lied. “You start in on the speedball.”

She exited and he ran a hand through his hair.

His possessiveness where she was concerned, his hyperawareness of her physically, his constant slide into sexual fantasy, the huge freakin’ boner in his pants—it all had to stop. She had come to him for one purpose. She was his fighter now, not an object of lust.

He was her trainer, her mentor, her guide, and she was officially off-limits.

Man, but this was going to be one hell of a test of his willpower.

BY THE TIME SHE was heading into the change rooms after her first session with Cooper, Jamie knew that he was a far better trainer than she’d ever imagined. She also knew that he was the most sexually desirable man she’d ever known.

It was his attitude, the feeling she got when she was around him, as much as his body—although that was pretty damned impressive all on its own. Even though she’d taken pains to disguise her interest, she’d been unable to stop herself from watching him as he moved around the gym in between giving her instructions. His arms alone were enough to make her knees weak—solid, round with muscle, strong. When he demon-strated a technique on the speedball to one of the younger fighters, she’d paused in her own workout to watch the muscles of his back and arms in action. Nice. Very nice.

Then there was his butt. Simply watching it flex as he walked made her fingers curl. She knew from watching his fights that he had a broad chest with well-defined pecs and abdominal muscles, and she closed her eyes as she stood beneath the shower, imagining how it would feel to have her breasts pressed up against all that masculine hardness. As the water pounded down on her, she slid her hands over her soapy breasts and down between her thighs, imagining it was his fingers finding her damp and ready for him.

Abruptly she became aware of what she was doing—eroticizing her hard-won trainer on day one. She switched the water to full cold.

She knew herself well enough to understand that the simmering desire she was feeling wasn’t going to evaporate. She either had to learn to control it and ignore it, or she had to neutralize it.

As she dressed, her thoughts flew to the handful of men she could call on for casual sex if and when she wanted it. She’d never been sentimental about sleeping with the opposite sex—not for a long time, anyway—and it was a mindset that had always served her well. Human beings had needs—food, shelter, sex. Not necessarily in that order, depending on what else was going on in a person’s life. Right now, for whatever reason, she needed sex. Since she couldn’t get it from Cooper, for a variety of very sensible and rational reasons, she would look else-where.

She grabbed her phone from her workout bag and called Dean, her most recent lover. He was flatteringly pleased to hear from her, but couldn’t hook up until Thursday night.

Today was Monday. She frowned. She felt distinctly edgy at the prospect of having to wait that long until she could feel a man’s naked body pressed against her own.

“Are you still there, Jimmy?” Dean asked when the silence between them had stretched too long.

“Sure, I’m here. And Thursday is fine,” she assured him quickly. Honestly, how hard up was she, anyway? “I’ll come to your place, okay?”

The one down side to living with her grandfather was that it made entertaining at her place next to impossible. Not that she was keen to inflict her dumpy little dive on any of her lovers. When she remembered the way things used to be, the beautiful things her mother had collected, the sumptuous furniture her father had insisted on…

She zipped her bag shut with a firm hand. The world had moved on, and she was in the process of clawing back some of what had been lost. There was no point in dwelling on the past.

Steeling herself for one last encounter with Cooper before she could escape for the day, Jamie headed into the gym.

She could feel a bunch of male eyes tracking her as she made her way to Cooper’s office to say goodbye. They’d get used to her. Most fighters’ gyms were light on for women, but they would get over the fact that she looked different from them soon enough. Especially when they realized she wasn’t about to sleep with any of them—including Cooper.

Cooper’s office was empty when she ducked her head in. She scanned the gym, wondering if she’d missed him in a corner somewhere. She hadn’t. He’d gone. Without saying goodbye.

He’s your trainer. Like it matters if you say hello or goodbye or up your nose with a rubber hose to him. The only thing that matters is that he knows how to help you become the best.

She shook off the moment of stupidity. Her grandfather was waiting for her near the door and she forced a smile and gave him a wave.

Roll on Thursday.

She had a feeling she was going to need every inch of Dean’s work-hardened body by the time their date rolled around.

HOW COULD A PERSON feel so much frustration and so much satisfaction at the same time?

It was a question that dogged Cooper over the next few days as he guided Jamie’s training sessions. She was a fast learner—much smarter and more intuitive than Ray or the other two promising young guys he’d taken on. Not that he would ever voice that thought aloud—there was enough male-female politics clogging up the airwaves in the gym without him throwing another element into the mix.

She knew her body extremely well and only had to listen once when he explained something before she was able to adapt her stance or her action and demonstrate what he was looking for. She was also responding well to his retraining exercises, although she’d grumbled the first time he’d strapped the five-pound soft weights around her ankles. But the added weight at her feet was having the desired affect—every time she lifted her foot following the instinct to kick in defense or attack, she registered the extra load and became conscious of what she was doing. He was confident they would soon rid her of her that fatal hesitation—and once that was gone he had the feeling he was going to have a truly exceptional fighter on his hands.

That was where the satisfaction part came from. He’d made the right decision in taking her on. She was so driven and committed and full of potential that she deserved a chance to go as far as she could.

His simultaneous frustration stemmed from the fact that while every day brought progress in her skill level, it also inevitably brought a new form of torture for his already tightly leashed libido.

He was going insane with wanting her and not being able to have her. He’d never been so hot for a woman before. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t have her. Or perhaps it was something unique to Jamie. Whatever, it was driving him around the bend and leaving him in severe danger of suffering the first case of blue balls he’d had since his teen years.

He’d had his hands on her enough now, shifting her body into position, guiding her, to know exactly how good she felt. Pretty damn good, was the answer.

But his lust had moved on from simply wanting to know her physically.

Now his fantasies involved wanting to hear that husky voice of hers cry out in ecstasy. He wanted to look into her beautiful eyes and see her lose her mind a little. She was always so focused and intent—he wanted her soft and pliant and wanting in his arms, in his bed.

So, yeah, he was just a little frustrated. With himself, with his body, with the fact that he was in an impossible situation that didn’t look as if it would resolve itself anytime soon.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried to take care of business with someone more suitable. He’d taken one of his casual girlfriends out on Tuesday night and hadn’t been able to muster even a fraction of the desire he felt for Jamie. Kara was a flight attendant, gorgeous and blond, a woman he’d had plenty of no-strings good times with in the past. He’d been sure she’d do the trick, but after a bout of lackluster kissing and fumbling in his Ferrari, he’d been forced to give up the attempt as a bad joke and drive her home, shaken to realize that wanting Jamie had killed him below the waist where other women were concerned.

Really freakin’ great. Talk about being between a rock and a hard-on.

Today, Thursday, he almost groaned out loud when Jamie arrived for her evening workout wearing a pair of Lycra hot pants and a teeny-tiny gym top.

Did she know? Was she doing it on purpose?

Admittedly, it was pushing one hundred degrees outside, but was it really necessary for her to flaunt what he absolutely could not have right in his face like this?

Apparently, the answer was yes.

“It’s hot out there,” she said as she dumped her bag against the wall. “Days like this I wish I had air-conditioning. Grandpa never gets a good night’s sleep when it’s too hot.”

He tore his focus from the sheen of perspiration that had formed in her cleavage.

“Yeah, it’s a killer,” he said.

“I can work a little later tonight,” she said. “I had the morning shift at the hotel, and I’m meeting a friend around nine or so, so if there’s anything extra you want me to do…?”

He admired her work ethic, he really did. If he could get his mind out of her underwear, he’d probably think of something really productive for her to do.

“I want you to work on upper body strength today,” he said. He indicated the weight equipment in the corner. “Let’s see if we can’t get a little more power into those punches.”

“I’m all about the power,” she said.

He followed her as she crossed to the four-station apparatus. His attention was glued to her butt the whole way. Realizing what he was doing, he snapped his gaze away and checked to make sure no one had noticed.

Nope. They were all too busy staring at Jamie’s butt.

Grabbing the wide bar of the lateral pulldown machine, she adjusted the weight stack and began to do reps. He watched her technique for a few minutes, telling himself that he was doing his job and not checking out her breasts.

In desperation, he sat opposite her and started to do some tricep pushdowns. Maybe if he got a really good muscle burn going he could stop behaving like a life support system for a hard-on.

“So when do you think I’ll be ready for my next fight?” Jamie asked as she rested between sets.

“Got to break that bad habit of yours first,” he reminded her.

“I know. Just…curious,” she said.

“Impatient, you mean. Every fighter wants to rush to his next fight.”

“Her next fight,” she corrected, a gleam of humor in her eyes.

“Yeah, well, that’s my bad habit,” he admitted. “Got to keep reminding myself who I’m dealing with.”

As if he needed reminding that she was a woman. His gaze dipped to her breasts. Man, but he wanted to taste her.

He was surprised by the intent look in her eyes when he returned his gaze to her face. She looked…hungry. Almost predatory.

His cock tightened as he understood that she’d caught him looking at her and knew that he was thinking about her.

And she liked it. A lot.

A bolt of pure desire shot through him.

Damn.

“You know what? You should just work your way ‘round the machines,” he said, standing. “I’m going to go for a run. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

She frowned. “It’s absolutely boiling outside.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Maybe all that baked-in heat in the roads and buildings would fry some of this lust out of his body. Something had to, because he’d never been so close to breaking his own rules and simply reaching out for what he wanted.

It was a quiet night thanks to the weather, but there were one or two guys still working out on the speedball and long bags in the other corner. He’d have to lead her through to his office and kick the door shut before he could get his hands on her. But once they were in there he could slide his hands inside those tight little pants she was wearing and find out if she was as hot and ready for him as he wanted her to be…

“You just keep doing your thing. And if you finish before I get back, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

He walked away from her before he could act on his X-rated thoughts.

In the change room, he dragged on a pair of running shorts and a sports tank. When he laced his track shoes, he saw his hands were shaking.

This was getting out of control. He had to do something. Maybe give Kara another shot, force himself to go the distance this time. Surely once he actually had her in his bed, his body would report for duty?

Perversely hoping that it would be really, punishingly hot outside, he did some warm-up stretches and made his way to the front door.