Battered Not Broken (8 page)

He handed his menu to the waitress without sparing her a glance. “Tell me about yourself,” he said, his eyes never leaving Ally. “Do you work? Other than competing in Cameron’s events.”

Ally nodded. “My aunt owns a beauty salon. I’m a nail technician there.” Normally, she glanced at her nails when telling people what she did – a habit borne of guilt. She never manicured her own nails. The hot, sweaty interiors of fighting gloves were too hard on them to justify the time and effort. But she didn’t look down this time – instead, she held Ryan’s gaze.

“Do you like it?”

She shrugged. “It pays the bills.” Mostly. What it didn’t pay, she did her best to make up for with fighting prize money. “And it makes it easy for me to spend time with my family. My aunt opened the place before I was born and my mother is a hair stylist there.”

She’d more or less been ushered into the family salon during her teenage years. One of her older cousins had trained her to do nails. Now, they split shifts so that one of them was always there during working hours.

“You make it sound like there’s something else you’d rather be doing.”

She shrugged again. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if I could choose – if I’d had the chance to go to college, or learn another trade. It was never really an option, you know?” Her late teen years had been a time of turmoil and loss – she couldn’t have stomached the thought of abandoning her mother to attend college, even if they’d somehow been able to afford it. Even now, several years later, her mother needed her. “Is there something you would do if you had a chance – something besides building roofs?”

He leaned back in his chair, flexing one well-muscled forearm absent-mindedly as he drummed his fingers against the tablecloth. “I don’t know what I’d choose, either. Sometimes I wish I did. The only thing I really seem to enjoy doing is fighting.”

“You’re in a different league than most of the guys who show up at Cameron’s events. Have you ever thought of trying your hand in some higher-profile circuits?”

“Thought about it? Yeah. But I don’t think anything like a professional career is in the cards for me.”

The set of his mouth quelled her natural desire to ask why not. Maybe it was that his normally quick-to-smile lips were turned down slightly at the corners, or maybe it was that she recognized the look in his eyes – one that said he was looking into the past instead of at the far wall he’d shifted his gaze to. Either way, she didn’t press.

It was a welcome change of pace when the food arrived a moment later.

The chicken parmesan was good, but not as good as the same dish at Annalisa’s.

“So you said your aunt opened her salon here before you were born,” Ryan said, a fork gripped in one hand. “Have you always lived in Baltimore?”

Ally nodded. “My mother was born here too. My father moved here from Mexico when he was a kid. What about you?”

“New York. Grew up in the city. I’ve moved around some since then and wound up here.”

“How do you like it here?” She could only imagine how Baltimore compared to New York – she’d never been to the Empire State.

“I’d rather be here than in New York.”

That seemed like high praise – New York had everything, didn’t it? “I like it here too. But I’m definitely biased.”

They talked about the gym and the weekend fights as they ate. When the subject of how Melissa had coached Ally’s kicks came up, he offered to work with her the next time they were at the gym together.

“I used to have the same problem,” he said.

“You telegraphing your kicks? That’s hard to imagine.” He moved with a grace that defied the idea of his technique ever having been clumsy.

His mouth quirked in a half smile that erased the memory of his recent frown. “It was a long time ago.” A hint of the cockiness he’d displayed the first time they’d spoken entered his voice, but now that she’d had a chance to become acquainted with his expressions, it was obvious that he was teasing her.

“Well if you have any wisdom to impart next time I see you at the gym, feel free to grace me with your expertise.”

He grinned. “Any time. And even if Melissa really did straighten out your technique, I won’t mind watching you throw a few kicks to verify.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” she said, trying for a dry tone but failing. It was easy to remember the way his gaze had felt between her shoulder blades when he’d watched her work with Melissa. At a loss for what else to say, she reached for her wine. She’d already had a few sips and had quickly come to savor the fruity red. Hints of plum teased her taste buds as it slid over her tongue and cooled her throat.

By the time they finished their meals and left the restaurant, her head was buzzing faintly. The slight intoxication wasn’t something she normally would have allowed herself on a first date, but beside Ryan, she felt safer than she could remember ever feeling in the presence of a boyfriend or date.

Ryan, on the other hand, had barely touched his wine, presumably because he had to drive. Instead, he’d had the waitress close and wrap what remained in the bottle and was taking it home. Ally hadn’t intended to overindulge, but had sipped from her glass when she’d felt nervous or at a loss for what to say, which had been more often than she cared to admit.

When he touched the small of her back, butterflies burst into flight in her stomach, fluttering erratically as if they too had been affected by the Chianti Riserva. His touch was light – respectful, even – but powerful nonetheless. Only his fingertips made contact with her jacket, but she could feel the promise of solid muscle and power that they imparted.

“There should be an action movie starting around the time we arrive,” he said as he opened the passenger-side door for her, “if that’s all right with you.”

“Sure.” Who cared what movie they saw? The idea of sitting close beside him in the dark for an hour and a half had her nerves buzzing in a way that told her she wouldn’t remember much of the film by the time they left the theater.

The leather seat was cool against her thighs, sending a slight chill through the denim of her jeans. As Ryan drove, it began to absorb her body heat as the entire car hummed with the purr of the engine. It was a beautiful machine, powerful, smooth and a show-stopping shade of blue, just like Ryan’s eyes.

When they reached the theater, he guided her to its doors just as he’d guided her from the restaurant – with his hand just barely touching the small of her back. She was almost sorry when they reached the darkened interior of the building and settled down into two seats.

Light and shadow danced across the room as previews played out on the screen.

It was hard to pay attention to the explosions, highly-unlikely fight scenes and flashes of almost-nudity that made up the two-minute teasers for various action films that would be debuting over the next year or so. Ryan’s thigh was just barely touching her knee, and that simple contact trumped the multi-million dollar special effects that kept exploding across the screen.

The actual movie began with similar content and maintained a steady stream of detonations, broken bones and dramatic shootings throughout. The hero dodged blows and bullets with impossible agility, somehow emerging victorious at the end of the film. Whether it was because his feats had been so fantastic or because of Ryan’s distracting presence, it was difficult to understand how the hero had survived past the second scene, let alone until the conclusion of the story.

But it didn’t matter. What really mattered was that Ryan’s fingertips brushed her shoulder as she rose from her seat, then slid down the length of her arm, settling on her elbow. He maintained contact, guiding her from the darkened theater as credits scrolled across the screen.

In the main lobby, the lights were surprisingly bright after an hour and a half of darkness. She missed the deep shadows that had hidden the constant blush that burnt in her cheeks. Could everyone see it now?

Or what about the way her nipples had stiffened when he’d touched her, becoming hard pebbles beneath several layers of clothing? It was ridiculous to think that anyone else could possibly see – her jacket alone was thick enough to hide the tingling buds – but she was so incredibly aware that she feared her body would somehow betray her by cluing Ryan in on her excitement.

He had to have at least a vague idea of the response his touch incited, didn’t he? She’d watched him gauge and predict his opponents’ actions and reactions in the ring, timing his own movements around his judgments and building an entire strategy based off of his instant observations. Someone who could do that so flawlessly had to know what his hands were capable of in all situations, not just a fight.

And so, when they stepped outside and a cold wind blew, rushing around them and sending her hair tumbling wildly across her shoulders as her nipples hardened to the point of aching, she exhaled sharply. Too sharply – there was no way he hadn’t heard, or that she could pretend she hadn’t just gasped.

Ryan moved as smoothly as he ever had in the ring, slipping an arm around her shoulders like it belonged there. The motion felt so effortless and the weight of his bicep and forearm on either shoulder felt so right that she continued forward, not missing a step as they walked toward the car, her arm snug against his side.

When they reached the passenger-side door, he didn’t pull it open for her. Instead, he moved so that he stood in front of her, his arm still looped around her shoulders. He placed his other hand on her waist, a gentle weight that made every inch of her body tingle.

Chapter 5

Her hips were just inches away from the car’s sleek metal side. Likewise, there were only a few inches of space between her and Ryan’s bodies. Her speeding heart told her body what was about to happen, prompting her mouth to moisten at the thought of his lips against hers. She didn’t dare move.

Until he leaned down and brushed her lips with his, a sensual touch that quickly graduated to a firm but gentle press. She melted beneath the pressure, her muscles going lax. She had to put conscious thought into keeping her spine straight so that she wouldn’t slump against his chest.

The kiss stretched for several moments, each one marked by a furious beat of her heart. Heat rolled over her in waves, warming her from head to toe. It practically scorched her when he ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of her lips in a gentle, teasing caress. The kiss’ innocence was gone after that. He tightened his grip on her side, denting her flesh and sending a thrill through her middle that caused her body to tighten and throb in places she hadn’t thought about in a while. The effect was intoxicating and more than made up for the wine buzz she’d lost at some point during the movie.

When he pulled away, she wasn’t ready. The way he continued to hold her, keeping her close to his body with an arm around her shoulders and a hand above her hip, said that he wasn’t either.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date,” he said. “So you’ll have to tell me – was that too much for a first date?”

“No,” she said, fighting a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. A while since he’d been on a date – really? She never would’ve guessed, firstly because of how gorgeous he was and secondly because his kiss had made her knees feel weaker than if she’d spent the entire day kicking bags. “At least, I don’t think so. I haven’t dated a lot, so I’m not an expert.”

“Well,” he said, his voice lower than before, “you said you don’t date strangers. I didn’t know how you felt about kissing one.”

“You’re not a stranger,” she breathed. “Not exactly.” There were things she didn’t know about him – a lot of things – but she liked what she did know, and the sense of mystery that surrounded him was surprisingly exciting. It made her feel like she’d been missing out on something – a gorgeous, tattooed something named Ryan Moore.

“That’s good to hear.” He leaned forward, removing his hand from her side and placing it against the side of the car instead.