Love On The Ropes (Ringside Romance) (18 page)

“Okay, I know. I’ll call you
later.”

“Fine, I have calls to make
anyway.” Sandra heard paper shuffling. “Hmm, here’s a nice one, Darla’s boy,
Patrick, he’s divorced, horrible first marriage. He could use a nice, earthy
girl like you.  Wait, better yet, Mark London. Great sense of humor, always
telling jokes. You remember him?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“That’s two. I’ll come up with two
more and we’ll have an even four.”

“Mom—”

“Justin Trade was always fond of
you, I wonder what he’s up to? I’ll call Shirley. She knows who’s available.
She’s better plugged in to the Arlington gossip.”

A sudden image filled Sandy’s
brain: a dozen men lined up on Mama’s lawn holding bouquets of pansies with an
auctioneer standing at a podium calling out bids. No, she wasn’t that
desperate. She’d find her own man, her own soul mate.

“I’m booked Friday night,” Sandy
said.

“Fine, Curt is having a family
barbecue Sunday. I’ll invite a few friends and their sons.”

“You can’t.”

“And why not, missy?”

Yeah, why not?

“Because my boyfriend wouldn’t
like it.”

Good grief where had that come
from?

“Tell me he’s not a wrestler.”

“Mom, I’ve gotta go.”

“Fine, I look forward to meeting
your young man on Sunday.”

Oops, didn’t count on that. “I’m
not sure he can make it,” Sandy said.

“Nonsense, and miss an important
family dinner? If he’s worth my baby’s love, he’ll come.”

“Look, I’ve gotta go. Oscar got
nailed by The Luminator, and Precious Paulina needs to have her back iced,
and—”

“Stop!” her mother cried. “I don’t
want to hear it. I’ll see you Sunday. And, Sandra?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if I seem pushy. It’s
just, well, I love my little girl.”

“Love you, too.” Sandy hung up,
wondering if Mom would still love a lying daughter.

“Bad news?”

She spun around to find Jason
standing a foot away. “You were eavesdropping?”

“Kind of.”

She pushed past him.

“Wait.” He touched her shoulder and
she couldn’t help but freeze as heat rushed down her arm.

“I was worried, okay?” he said.

“Man, Cosmo must be paying you a
lot of money to be so worried about me all the time.”

He gently turned her to face him.
“Is that what you really think?”

She couldn’t answer, not when she
saw the spark of fire in his eyes. He either sincerely cared about her, or was
a damned fine actor.

Like Cody Monroe, maybe?

Which gave her an idea. “What are
you doing Sunday?”

With a look of surprise he said,
“What? Why?”

“I need a boyfriend.”

“Hell and damnation, my fantasy
come true. Are you propositioning me?”

She crossed her arms over her
chest. “Not exactly. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for a family
thing.”

“What kind of family thing?”

“Dinner, conversation and the
third degree. Mom’s tough. She’s been trying to get me out of this business for
years. She thinks finding me a solid man will do the trick. If I don’t bring a
boyfriend to dinner she’s threatened to have guys lined up on the front yard
for my inspection, courtship and eventual marriage.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Maybe exaggerating a little, but
not by much. Anyway, are you free this Sunday? I figure you owe me.”

“How’s that?”

“Shall I count how many times I’ve
patched up your sexy behind during the past week? Besides, you want your ring
partner to be on your side, right? As opposed to slipping your opponent a lug
wrench when you’re not looking?”

“You wouldn’t.”

She smiled. Of course she
wouldn’t. They both knew it. But Jason also had to know it was a lot easier
working with his partner than against her.

“What do I get out of the deal?”
he asked.

“A free meal.”

“There’s no such thing.”

She smiled and took his acceptance
for granted. “Hey, I don’t even know where you live.  Mom’s in a suburb of
Chicago. Is that doable or too far away?”

“Just tell me when and where.”

“How about we meet around one at
Denny’s on Algonquin in Arlington Heights. That way we can get our stories
straight before we head over.”

“Which story is that?”

“The one about how much you love
me, cherish me and want to take care of me—and how excited I am about having
your babies.”

He made a face. Was the thought of
having sex with her so offensive?

“It’s just acting,” she said. “You
seem like a natural.”

He shrugged.

“The first thing will be to come
up with another career for you. She’ll kill me if I bring home a wrestler.
Construction’s good, I guess, and not a total lie.”

“I know a little about the
military,” he offered.

“Hmm. Better.”

She’d started back into first aid
when she felt his hand touch her arm. She glanced at him.

“Why me?” he said.

Ah, the $77,000 question. And one
she didn’t want to consider too closely.

She smiled, ignoring the
butterflies flitting around in her stomach and said, “Because you’re safe.”

Safe? No one had ever used
that
word to describe Jason. Sandy grinned and reached for the door to first aid.

“Hang on,” he said. “What the hell
does that mean?”

“Safe. You know, there’s no chance
of me falling for you like I did with Cody Monroe.”

“Yeah?” He leaned close. “I think
I’ve been insulted.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Her
eyes grew wide.

He moved closer, within inches of
her lips. Man, did he need a taste of those again—to prove a point, of course.

“I meant…” She swallowed, her
heart charm dancing in the hollow of her throat.

“What did you mean?”

“I had no idea Cody was lying ninety
percent of the time. With you I know the lie’s coming and I see right through
it. I won’t allow myself to fall for a man who lies so easily. If I ever fall
for a man again, I’ll have my eyes open.”

“They look pretty open right now.”

Closer, almost there, another
breath and they’d be kissing. Jason’s pulse raced.

“That’s why I can see,” her voice
hitched.

“Yeah, what can you see?”

“That you’re all wrong for me.”

He ignored her words and kissed
her, his hand cupping her cheek, his lips pressing against the most delicious
thing he’d ever tasted. It was all part of the job, to get inside and gain her
trust. But she said she’d never trust him, right?
Aw, don’t believe what
they say. Believe how easily they fall into your bed
.

Warm, soft and utterly fragile.
That’s how she felt against him. This invincible healer wasn’t all that tough
when he held her in his arms. Her slight moan vibrated against his lips. He
slipped his other hand down to the small of her back and pulled her close,
their bodies afire with need. He was falling, whirling in a tornado of panic.

With you I know the lie’s
coming and I can see right through it.

Her words taunted him. If she
really saw through him then she knew this kiss was a manipulation. Yet she did
nothing to stop it, which meant what? Hell, he hadn’t a clue. His head was spinning
from the effects of desire. He needed to get laid and fast.

He broke the kiss. Sandy blinked
slowly and opened her eyes. “Wow,” she whispered.

“I was practicing.”

“For what?”

“For Sunday dinner.”

“Stripper, if you kiss me like
that in front of my mother she’ll call Father Paul and we’ll be married before
dessert.” With a wry smile she winked and disappeared into the first aid room.

Jason leaned against the wall
struggling to get his bearings. Steroids—this was about nailing the bastard who
was dealing drugs. Running his hand across his face, he wondered how he’d
gotten so embedded in this assignment. Or was it that Sandy had embedded
herself in the big, bad Stripper?

Floyd’s valet, Missy, sauntered up
to him. “She’s a lesbian,” she warned.

“You wouldn’t know by kissing her.”

“I know the truth about that one.”
She nodded in Sandy’s direction. “All of it.”

J raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Cody Monroe did things to her,
wonderful things.” Missy gazed into the distance as if imagining Cody doing
those very things to her.

J snapped his fingers in front of her
face to get her attention.

“Right. Well, it didn’t matter
what he did with his hands or his tongue.” Missy leaned close. “She never had
an orgasm.”

J resisted the urge to slap a
piece of duct tape over her mouth. He didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to
hear what another man did to the free-spirited, emotionally fragile beauty.
Besides, what business was it of Jason’s if Cody Monroe was a poor lover and
Sandy had suffered for it?

“Not only that,” Missy continued,
“but her family’s all messed up. Her dad’s got cancer and you met her brother,
the cripple.” She shook her head.

J knew Sandy would be furious if
she heard her brother referred to with such pity. He bit back his own anger at
the judgment in Missy’s voice.

“You’re not telling me anything I
don’t know,” he said.

“Did you know she sells drugs to
pay medical bills?” Missy sneered. “I’ve seen it. She hands out little white
pills to the boys. Disgusting. You can’t even trust your own doctor these
days.”

“She’s not a doctor.”

“Even worse. The boys never see
real doctors. They depend on Johnny and Sandy for medical advice.” Missy stood
straight. “That reminds me, I’ve gotta find Floyd some antacids, preferably
berry-flavored. You got any?”

J patted his naked chest. “Nope,
must have left them in my other trunks.”

“Okay, well, thanks.” The woman
smiled and teetered away on her four-inch heels.

Ditzy broad. She couldn’t know for
sure what she was talking about, right?
Get a grip, J. She just told you
she’s seen Sandy deal drugs.

Yeah, pills. Steroids were most
effective if injected with a syringe, a lot like the one Dr. Killroy was waving
around tonight.

Which puzzled Jason even further.
Sandy was enraged when Killroy pulled out that syringe, and the mere mention of
steroids set her off. What was the deal here? He should call in and get a final
report from Hicks so he could put an end to this direction of the
investigation. He needed to check Sandy off the list of prime suspects before
it drove him nuts.

Hobbling back to the dressing
room, he realized he might have reinjured his ribs in tonight’s match. That
damned wound never seemed to heal, always reminding him of Special Forces, his
hard-ass attitude and screw-up with Chauncy. His buddy didn’t hold a grudge,
but Jason could never forgive himself for leaving Chauncy behind in Iraq, no
matter how badly Jason needed medical attention.

When he got to the dressing room,
only Barbell and The Luminator were still packing up. Jason nodded at Barbell
and grabbed his bag from his locker. Stretching out his neck, J searched for
his cell phone. Somehow it had fallen out of the side pocket and was buried at
the bottom of his clothes. He called his apartment and had three messages.
Great, probably Meek demanding an arrest.

But J still had a good reason not
to bring anyone in: he didn’t want to blow his cover until he had proof.

Yeah, keep telling yourself
that, chief
.

He certainly had enough on Sandy
to bring her in for questioning, but he wanted more. He needed her to hand him
the drugs herself.

Message number one: “It’s Jordon.
You forgot Mom’s birthday. What the hell is with you, man? Not even a card?”

He didn’t forget, but wasn’t able
to break away from work long enough to get her something.

Bad son. Terrible son. What else
is new?

Message two: “It’s Hicks. I’m
still working on it. Call me.”

J stared at the phone for a
second. Good, this was good. Maybe Hicks had some answers so J could move
forward with this case and leave this ridiculous assignment behind, which meant
leaving Sandy behind.

“Hey, you sexy hunk,” the third
message started. “It’s Carlotta. I’ve got a new waterbed, satin sheets and
handcuffs. Call me back!”

He sat down on the bench and
closed his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to take a break from this case and bed
that crazy girl. Hot, hot, hot. He could make her come by caressing her
breasts.

A sudden image of a bored Sandy,
unable to reach orgasm, crossed his thoughts. It didn’t make sense. She seemed
so passionate about life.

She’s your next collar and
don’t you forget it.

He should call Hicks, but not
until the room cleared out.

Barbell packed up his gear and
left without a word. Luminator finished shaving and eyed Jason in the mirror.
“You don’t look so good,” he said.

“Tired as hell.”

“It always starts that way,”
Luminator said. “Get with Sandy. She does magic with those hands of hers.”

No kidding. “Thanks.”

Luminator nodded and left.

J eyed his cell phone. This was
it. The lab’s information would give him what he needed to arrest her. He took
a deep breath.

He was procrastinating, damn it. 
He needed to call in, get confirmation and make the collar. He hit speed dial
for the lab.

The locker room door burst open
and two suits stepped into the room.

“Are you Jason McBain?” the taller
guy asked.

“Yes.”

A chill raced down his spine. Were
they Feds, or local dicks? Either way, it wasn’t good.

“I’m Agent Burton, this is Agent
Dunn. FBI.” He flashed his ID. “We have a search warrant for your personal
belongings.”

“What? Why?” He stood.

A crowd gathered outside the open
doorway.