Below the Belt (6 page)

“Yeah, it will. We have a professional relationship. My job is to get the best out of you, not sleep with you. You’re my
fighter,
Jamie. We’re supposed to trust each other, not do each other.”

She stared at him, unable to believe that he could walk away from all the heat between them. She could see how much he wanted her still—his hard-on was damned unmissable the way it tented the front of his shorts.

“Let me put it this way—what do you need more, someone in your bed, or a trainer?” he asked.

That
hit her like a bucket of cold water. He’d drawn a line, given her a choice. And despite how much her body craved his touch, no matter how much her blood sang with need for him, she knew and he knew which option she was going to choose.

“Fine,” she said.

It had been a long time since a man had said no to her. Not that she thought she was some irresistible femme fatale or anything, but she’d never gotten half-naked with a man and had him walk away.

How very bloody noble and self-controlled of Cooper.

It made her want to punch him, a good jab straight to his rock-hard belly. Probably it would hurt her more than it would hurt him, but it might relieve some of the frustration she was feeling.

“I suppose I should thank you for saving me from myself,” she said.

Cooper remained impassive.

“I’d better not catch you looking at me again,” she said. “If I catch one hint that you’re thinking of anything below the neckline…”

To her intense annoyance, he smiled.

“Yeah? What are you going to do?” he asked.

She glared at him, knowing he was right. What
was
she going to do?
Force
him to sleep with her? Quit?

Bang her head against a brick wall?

Damn him. Damn him and her stupid hormones or pheromones or whatever was responsible for how she felt right now.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and headed for the change room.

“Jamie.”

She turned around. He tossed her crop top at her. She caught it with one hand.

“For what it’s worth, you’re the hottest damn thing I’ve ever said no to,” he said.

What was she supposed to say to that?

She flipped him the finger.

“Thanks a lot,” she said.

I
F THE
P
OPE
didn’t announce Cooper’s sainthood soon, there was no justice in the world. Cooper watched Jamie walk away, naked except for those teeny tiny hot pants and her running shoes.

She was magnificent. And he’d just said no to her.

The moment she entered the women’s change room, he let his shoulders sag and ran a hand through his hair.

He still couldn’t quite believe that he’d said no to her. He had a boner in his pants that couldn’t quite believe it, either.

She’d felt so good in his arms. Even her sweat had tasted good, clean and fresh. And the needy sound she’d made when he suckled her breasts, and the way her muscles had clenched around him when he slid his finger inside her…He was going to be tortured by those few breathless moments for the rest of his life, along with all the what-ifs.

What if he’d taken what she was offering?

What if he’d lifted her onto that counter and wrapped her legs around his waist and buried himself to the hilt inside her?

Shaking his head, he derailed his thoughts before his cock literally exploded with frustrated desire. Then, feeling like a desperate fourteen-year-old, he took himself off to the change room and took care of business solo, with nothing but the hot flow of the shower and a handful of soap for company.

Not quite the same as all the slippery sweet heat that Jamie had been offering. Not even close, in fact.

But it was going to have to do. He’d made a commitment to her, and he was going to stand by it if it killed him.

She was gone by the time he’d dried himself off and dressed, not that he’d expected anything different. He paused by the front counter to switch on the after-hours answering machine. He would never be able to enter his gym again without remembering Jamie pushed up against the counter, her body straining with desire as she found her climax.

He’d looked into her face as it gripped her, wanting to see her lose control, loving the way her mouth had opened, the way she’d panted, the little frown she’d gotten between her eyebrows. He’d never done that with a woman before. He’d prided himself on making sure they had a good time, but he’d never savored a woman’s pleasure so much before.

Get over it. She’s a hot body, a challenge and off-limits. Of course you want to screw her. You’ve spent your life bucking the system.

But at the end of the day, she was just a woman, same as any other woman that he’d slept with. Or not slept with, to be technically correct. There was nothing special about any of it.

A
S LUCK WOULD HAVE IT
,
Arthur Holloway accompanied Jamie to the gym for her workout the next day. Even though Cooper told himself that he and Jamie were grown adults and that nothing had happened last night for either of them to feel uncomfortable about, he still felt a flicker of guilt when he met the other man’s eyes. There was just something about the old guy, a sort of calm, centered integrity, that made Cooper feel like an asshole for what had almost happened.

Cooper had had two trainers during his career, both of whom still occupied important roles in his life. A legend in fighting circles, Harry Muldoon had spotted Cooper brawling in the street when he was sixteen years old and homeless and shaped him from nothing. Harry had been everything to Cooper for many years—father, brother, teacher, trainer. When he retired, Cooper had felt like a heel going to another trainer. It had taken him a long time to forge a bond with Vaughn Stevenson, his second and last trainer. Younger and better-educated than Harry, Vaughn had brought fresh ideas and new science to Cooper’s training regime. But Cooper had trusted both men implicitly—with his health, his career, his money, even his life, if need be.

That was the kind of trust he wanted his fighters to place in him. He was pretty sure he had the goods, experience and knowledge, to become the sort of trainer he wanted to be. But what had happened with Jamie last night had shaken his sense of his own values.

She had to be able to trust him, and he had to be able to make clear-headed decisions about her. Sex was not, and never could be, a part of that equation.

“She’s looking good,” Arthur said when Cooper finally forced himself to cross the gym to check in on Jamie’s workout.

“Yeah,” Cooper said, watching Jamie’s form as she went at the speedball.

She staunchly ignored him. He didn’t force the issue. The old man slid a sideways look his way, sensing something was up. Cooper fought the urge to shuffle his feet.

“She’s been working pretty hard. Wants to impress you,” Arthur said. “Even blew off her date last night so she could get up early and do some more roadwork.”

Cooper tried not to let his interest show on his face. Jamie had had a date last night? He remembered her mentioning a ‘friend’ whom she planned to meet at nine after her workout. Only, according to Arthur, she hadn’t.

Because of what had happened between them?

“I’m already impressed. Jamie’s got a lot of natural talent,” he said.

“It’s in the blood,” Arthur said. “She practically grew up in the ring.”

“Yeah?” Cooper cocked his head, silently inviting more information. It hadn’t really occurred to him before, but Jamie never said much about her family or her life. He knew she worked as a maid at one of the big hotels in the city. He knew she lived with her grandfather. But that was pretty much it.

Either Arthur didn’t pick up on his silent cue, or he was avoiding responding. Frowning, Cooper remembered that when he’d asked the old guy about his fighting record he’d clammed up, too.

“So the whole family was involved in the sport, then?” Cooper asked.

Arthur shoved his hands into the pockets of his Bermuda shorts and ducked his chin into his chest.

“Yeah, guess you could say that,” he said. “Sure is hot outside, eh?”

Cooper ignored the change of subject.

“You never did say where you did most of your fighting, Arthur. By the looks of you I guess you were a heavyweight?” he asked.

“For a while, but then I dropped down to cruiserweight. And mostly I fought in the States,” Arthur said. “They say there’s a cool front coming through tonight, did you hear?”

“That’d put you over there when Ali and Frazier were around. You ever see the great man fight?” Cooper asked, genuinely interested. There wasn’t a fighter alive who didn’t admire Muhammad Ali and envy him his career.

“
See
him? Went seven rounds with him in Louisville, Kentucky, one time,” Arthur said, his eyes bright and his shoulders back as he puffed his chest out. “That man could move, let me tell you. Like poetry in motion.”

Cooper narrowed his eyes. “You fought Muhammad Ali?”

He wasn’t calling the old guy a liar, but he was pretty sure he’d never heard of an Arthur Holloway taking on Ali.

Arthur blushed, the tide of color racing up from his collar ’til even the top of his head was pink. “Sparring match,” he said. “Just fooling around, you know.”

“Right. Sure,” Cooper said.

“Might go get myself some water,” Arthur said, heading for the front counter.

Cooper stared after him. He felt embarrassed for the old guy. If a fighter was going to brag about a fight he never fought, he should know better than to pick the most famous boxer in history.

When he brought his attention back to Jamie, she was watching him, her expression unreadable.

“Feeling virtuous, Mr. Self-Control?” she asked after a few tense minutes of silence.

“Ever heard of letting sleeping dogs lie?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” she said. “I’m not into all that hearts and flowers crap, if that’s what you’re worried about. Love is for greeting card manufacturers, and I don’t ever want to get married and have kids, so that pretty much lets you off the hook on all fronts.”

“Except professionally,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She took a few last shots at the speedball, her bottom lip decidedly pouty. She was sulking.

Despite himself, he was flattered.

“Hey, for all you know I could be hung like a hamster and it would all be over in five seconds flat,” he said.

Was he
insane,
or did he actually just run down his own sexual performance to an incredibly hot woman?

She rolled her eyes. “
Puh-lease,
you think I’m feeling impaired? I had my hands on you last night, I know what you’re packing. I know
exactly
what I’m missing out on.”

Damn, now
he
was blushing. Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, he glanced at her and found she was laughing at him with her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I get it,” she said. “I just wanted to give you a hard time.”

Hard
being the operative word.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure. And I mean that,” she said.

“Just for that, you can drop and give me fifty push-ups,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him, then hit the mat and started counting them off.

Man, she was a piece of work. He couldn’t help but admire her courage. Her frank and open attitude to sex was hot, and her straight-down-the-line way of handling the world was just plain likeable.

She
was likeable. Under different circumstances, at a different time…

He frowned. Even if he did allow himself to sleep with Jamie, her likeability or not wouldn’t make any difference to the outcome. He’d never had a relationship with any woman that lasted longer than a few months. His career meant he moved around a lot. Plus he’d been exposed to a lot of gorgeous women who were more than happy to have sex with him, no strings attached. There had never been a lot of incentive to commit himself to one woman before.

But life was a little different these days. He was enjoying not having to travel around as much. He had a great house in Annandale, a couple of minutes’ drive from the gym, and when he wasn’t itching to be back in the ring, he was enjoying spending more time with his friends and less time training. Who was to say that his attitude toward women wasn’t changing as well?

All of which was irrelevant where Jamie was concerned, he reminded himself as she counted off the last push-up and rolled onto her back to catch her breath.

“You’re a real hard-ass. And I can vouch for that,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him suggestively.

He told her to clock some time on the long bag before walking away. Only then did he let himself smile. She had lip to spare, that was for sure.

That night, he made his way over to Ray Marshall’s place for dinner with a couple of old boxing buddies. It was a boys’ night, and the beer and language flowed thick and fast as they talked bull. Like Ray, the other two guys, Tom and Marco, were still actively fighting, and Cooper felt a distinct pang of envy when he heard them discussing their upcoming bouts and talking about cutting weight and training schedules.

Gotta get over that,
he told himself as he made his way to the bathroom in between courses.
No point wanting something you can never have.

It wasn’t as though he wasn’t enjoying his new role as trainer. He’d been surprised by how satisfying he found it, in fact. It wasn’t the same as being the king of the ring, but he was beginning to appreciate the benefits of shaping someone else’s career, the satisfaction of helping someone else achieve their goals. He was good at it, too. Pretty soon, his gym was going to be attracting talent from all over.

His life wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.