Love On The Ropes (Ringside Romance) (26 page)

No, he was imagining things.

He sat up on the couch and gripped
his head. Maybe he’d downed more than four beers. It seemed like a good idea at
the time: drink beer with Curt, get some intel and help piece together the puzzle
of the steroid-peddling wrestler.

But Jason was only able to get
more information about Sandy, a sweet, natural healer with a huge heart.

Damn. He had to stay focused on
nailing the perp, not enjoying his time with this special woman.

“Hey, you’re awake,” she said,
coming into the room.

“Sorry, how long was I out?”

“A little over two hours.” She
reached over and placed her palm against his cheek. He resisted the urge to
lean into her touch.

“You okay? You don’t feel
feverish,” she said.

“Just tired.”

“And a little hung over?” She
smiled and withdrew her hand.

Did she feel it, too? That surge
of heat every time they touched?

“You hungry?” she asked.

“Nah, still sleepy.”

“We’ll eat in about an hour.” She went
back to the kitchen.

“I don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she answered
him.

Her pleasure. Great. He blinked
and remembered her whispers as he’d drifted in and out of sleep:
It wasn’t
your fault, Jason. Somehow I’m going to make you believe that.

Wonderful. He was staying with a
woman who thought of him as her pet project. Why did he spill his guts so
easily to her?

To gain more sympathy, which would
help him do his job. Yet something else happened when he blurted out his story.
The pressure in his chest had eased a bit, which was a first. It felt good.

Sandy was the only person he’d
confided in about his dad leaving, admitting that it happened without warning
or explanation. Although J guessed there were plenty of reasons: the old man
couldn’t deal with Jordon’s hypertension and Janette’s drama; he couldn’t deal
with his oldest son stealing worms.

J knew he had contributed to his
dad’s abandonment and took responsibility for his actions, unlike his little
brother and sister. They continued to use the abandonment as an excuse for
anything that went wrong in their lives. Jason, on the other hand, stood up to
his mistake.

And he lived with his father’s
cowardly tendencies on a daily basis. What kind of man would run when his
family needed him the most? Or when his best friend needed him? Sure, Chauncy
recovered, but a part of Jason still couldn’t forgive himself for leaving him
behind.

“We should go over some things for
the barbeque tomorrow afternoon,” Sandy called from the kitchen.

That’s right, J was meeting the
family and needed to make a good impression. Back up, this was about getting
close to more pro wrestlers, not getting in good with her parents.

“Will your dad be there?” he
asked. The guy was practically a legend in the business.

“For a little while. Mom and Dad
are divorced, but they’re usually civil at family events. I think we’re celebrating
my niece’s birthday and Curt’s wedding anniversary. I hope he remembers to buy
Trudy a gift,” she muttered, walking into the living room with a bowl of
pretzels and a drinking glass.

She handed Jason the glass, and he
looked at it.

“Club soda,” she said with a
smile.

He sipped the beverage, wishing for
a few aspirin to go with it.

“Oh, and how about a few of these?”
She handed him two little pills. “Ibuprofen, okay?” she asked.

It was amazing how she could read
his mind like that.

“I usually don’t—”

“I know,” she said. “You usually
don’t take drugs. But I figured you might have a bit of a headache.”

He nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

“We’d better create some details
about our relationship.”

“What kind of details?”

She blushed. “Knock it off. You
know what I mean.”

He hadn’t meant it that way, but
liked that the memory of their night together was the first thing that crossed
her mind.

“We should decide where we met and
what you do for a living,” she said. “You can’t tell Mama you’re a stripping
pro wrestler. She’ll disown me for sure.”

J considered. “I can’t tell her
I’m a federal agent.”

“True. Well…” She tapped her
forefinger against her lips—lips that looked ready to be kissed again.

“I don’t think we should make up
anything complicated,” he said. “Lies always get you into trouble.”

“Now that’s funny, coming from
you.” She chuckled. “Okay, let’s talk about how we met. How about in yoga
class?”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Just kidding,” she said.

“How about at a bar?”

“Mom will love that,” she said
sarcastically.

“I could tell her we met through
pro wrestling,” he shot back.

She made a face. “Okay, a bar, in
the city. I was out with my girlfriends—she likes hearing that I have a life
outside of work—and you and I danced to—”

“We have to be that specific?”

“I’m trying to set the stage
here,” she said, clearly irritated.

“Okay, sorry.”

“We met, we danced, you got my
number and you called me the next day.”

“The next week.”

“Three days later.”

“Five.”

“Agreed.”

“Why don’t you tell her the
truth?” he said.

“What, that you’re Jack the
Stripper and I’m your Virgin Nurse? Sure, that will go over well.”

“Tell her we met through work. I’m
part of the security team.”

“I guess that would work.”

She settled on the sofa and leaned
forward. Damn, if she didn’t smell like fresh-cut flowers.

“I need to know more details about
you,” she said.

“You know enough.” Uncomfortable,
he stretched out his neck.

“I can help with that. Turn
around.” 

He eyed her.

“Come on, you trust me, right?”

That was the problem. He trusted
her too much.

“Do it,” she ordered.

He reluctantly turned his back to
her. She massaged his neck and shoulders, uncoiling his taut muscles. His neck
muscles relaxed and he tipped his head to one side.

“So ... you have a brother and
sister,” she said. “Your dad left when you were a kid. Your mom ... what about
your mom?”

“She’s a nice lady. Too nice,” he
said.

“How can someone be too nice?”

Press, knead, press. God, he was
going to fall asleep again, but not because of one too many beers.

“Jason?”

“Huh?”

“What do you mean, ‘too nice’?”

“She’s gullible, trusting. After
what Dad did to her, you’d think she would have learned that men are bastards.”

“And do you put yourself in that
category, Mr. Stripper?” Sandy teased.

“Sure, why not?”

Press, knead. Press, knead. He was
so relaxed he started to drift.

“Man, I can tell I’ve got my work
cut out for me,” she said.

“My muscles are that bad, huh?”

“One in particular.”

“Should I see a doctor?”

“Yeah, a heart specialist,” she
whispered.

Sandy thought she heard Jason
grunt after her comment, but she couldn’t be sure. He’d relaxed under her
ministrations, his muscles loosening and giving way to her healing energy. If
only she could heal the most damaged muscle of all—his heart.

Being betrayed by someone who was
supposed to love him so unconditionally had caused Jason to believe that no one
was trustworthy. She’d start there, by cultivating his trust. She needed to
create a safe place.

Why? Why was she doing this?

Because he brought out the best in
her, because he cared so much about nailing the bad guy, and heck, he’d
awakened her feminine side. She owed him.

“Jason?” she said, pressing her
fingers into his shoulder muscles.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Lots of stuff. Like, letting me
have my way with you last night.”

His body tensed and he stood up.

“Hey, get back here,” she
commanded.

“I need a walk.”

“Okay, I’ll get my jacket.”

“Alone,” he said.

She stood and planted her hands on
her hips. “What’s the problem?”

“I need some air.”

“A second ago you were putty in my
hands. All I said was thanks and you freak out on me.”

He turned to walk out, but she
grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her. “Don’t blow me off like that.”

His eyes flared.

“What the heck is going on?”

He clenched his jaw.

“Okay, I’ll guess. You secretly
hated last night, but don’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t deserve to be thanked.”
He turned to leave.

She stepped around him and blocked
the door. Kind of a silly gesture considering she was nearly a foot shorter
than Jason.

“Thank you,” she said again.

“Stop it.”

“No, I mean it. Thanks,” she
repeated.

“Get out of my way.”

“Not until you tell me what
terrifies you about that word.”

He stared her down.

She smiled. “Thanks, Jason.”

“Don’t, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re smarter than other
women. You should recognize last night for what it was.”

“A crazed, amazing night of
passion?”

He gripped her shoulders and
stared deep into her eyes. “I used you for sex because you wanted it, because I
knew if I gave you what you wanted, I’d get what I needed: information about
BAM to help with this case. Once I nail the perp, I’m gone. Out of your life. I
use people and I leave.”
Like my father
.

She heard the inference. He was seriously
messed up if he thought he was like his dad just because they shared the same
genes.

“You are what you choose to be,
Jason,” she said.

“Some of us have no choice.”

“Sure you do.”

“Let it go, Sandy, and get out of
my way.”

“I need to help you.”

He growled. “Look, I didn’t ask to
be your project.”

Is that what he thought? That she
was taking pity on him? She felt ashamed. “Okay, I’ll back off,” she said. “But
please don’t leave.”

They stood there for a few awkward
seconds, silence stretched between them. Finally, he walked to the couch and
turned on the television.

“Still worried about keeping an
eye on me so you won’t lose your job?” he asked.

It felt like he’d plunged a knife
into her heart. The bastard was implying she practically begged him to stay because
of BAM, because she was legally responsible for him until his court date. Wait,
did he really even have a court date?

“Wow. Okay, whatever,” she said,
stumbling over her words. “I’m out of pesto.” Her hands shook as she reached
for her keys on the dining room table. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Now who’s running away?” he
asked. But he didn’t look at her.

She stepped in front of him and
blocked his view of the television set. His gaze drifted up her body, and it
made heat pool low in her belly. Damn him.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m
giving myself a time out, because ya’ know what, Jason? I didn’t deserve that.
I’m a pretty amazing person. I deserve respect and admiration—something you
obviously can’t give because you’re so wrapped up in self-pity. So, you enjoy
yourself, buddy.”

She left the condo with the image
of Jason’s hardened jaw and cold stare burning into her mind. Choking back a
scream of frustration, she raced down the stairs and power-walked toward the
grocery store. She didn’t really need pesto; she needed an excuse to get out
and get some distance to think. Maybe he was right: maybe she spent too much energy
on lost causes, trying to save men who didn’t want to be saved. Maybe it was
time to grow up and let people deal with their own stuff. Who did she think she
was, anyway? A miracle worker?

Jason McBain certainly needed a
big-time miracle to dissolve all that angst. But if he didn’t choose to move
on, he never would.

And neither would she. Suddenly
she thought of her own life choices: staying in the family business versus
chasing her own dreams. Who was she to lecture Jason on making positive life choices
when her own decisions were motivated by duty and guilt—duty to her father, and
guilt for not being able to prevent her brother’s wrestling accident. She got
halfway to the grocery store before she realized she’d left her wallet at home.
Truth was, she couldn’t think straight with Jason around.

Okay, girl, you see this one
coming. Time to stop the wreck before the train leaves the station.

Self-preservation required her to define
their relationship as purely friendship, nothing more. But it was kind of hard
to think of him as a friend when she wanted him in her bed.

She started to cross the street to
her building and glanced up just as a small white car came barreling at her.
Everything froze: her legs, her mind. With a silent scream she tried to dive
out of the way, and lost her balance as the world spun backward.

* *
*

J blew it big time, and he’d have
to make it up to her. Not because he needed her help with the case, but because
he admitted to his mistakes, and hurting Sandy was a big one. He liked and
trusted her. What made him emotionally beat her up like that?

Fear.

Damn, that McBain coward gene
again. He was afraid of giving too much of himself, knowing that the day would
come when she’d leave him, too.

Of course she would. She was his
mark, not his girlfriend.

A part of him fantasized about her
being his girlfriend. He fantasized about her welcoming him home after a long
assignment with those magical hands, that amazing body and those sweet lips.

That dream was not something that
could become a reality, ever. He knew the truth. He was destined to hurt her
over and over again. And he liked her too much to put her through that kind of
torture.