Sweet Seduction (15 page)

I own a club. A fight club.

All of those professional athletes came to help out because of Jamie. Why had he done that?

He's one of the good guys.

Was he? Daisy thought about all the things that had happened between them, ticking them off on her fingers as she recounted them. One, he'd lied about who he was...but then he said he'd done it to protect his brother. Two, he'd seduced her, but that wasn't true, either. She was the one who couldn't keep her hands off him—he'd even given her the choice to invite him up to her place or not. Three, he'd worked for Alan but then...that was only because he'd taken over for Alan's lawyer without knowing who Alan was. Four, he'd lied about knowing her, but that was so he could help her.

He had jeopardized his career to help her?

Huh.

Five, the gym. He'd let her punch him. Hard. And then...

The honk from Gloria's horn curbed that memory before it had a chance to start. Two more honks followed by one long one and she locked the door, ran down the stairs and hopped into Gloria's car, Jamie's cuff link tucked into her pocket for safekeeping.

* * *

B
Y
SIX
O
'
CLOCK
that evening, Daisy had found herself a new place. It was a supercute loft in Lincoln Park, available immediately, with high ceilings, a huge kitchen and a lovely, sunny bedroom with a dormer window seat that Daisy absolutely loved. Gloria had had to leave her partway through the day to go stage a house, which was fine with Daisy. She had a mission. She'd accomplished item one on her list: find a place to live. Now it was time for item two.

All day long the cuff link in her pocket had been a constant reminder of what she needed to do. Now she stood on the sidewalk outside the old warehouse where Jamie's boxing club was located, staring up at the building.

“Hey, Daisy,” a male voice called from a few feet away. “What are you doing here?”

She turned to see Alex walking her way. “I was looking for Jamie.”

“I'm sure he's inside. He's here pretty much every night.”

Daisy followed Alex up the steps to the big double doors, which were locked, but he had a key. He opened the door and held it so Daisy could go in first. The familiar smell of the place was like a slap in the face, and she plugged her nose.

“What?” Alex laughed. “You think this is bad? You should try a hockey locker room. The smell's ten times worse.”

“You played hockey?”

“Fifteen years. I played for Chicago when they won the NorrisCup in 2007.” He showed Daisy the big, gaudy, bejeweled ring on his hand.

“Wow.” She touched it, marveling at how much she didn't know about her soon-to-be stepfather. “That's cool.”

The thing she liked about her mother's boyfriend was that he didn't make a big deal about his accomplishments and just glanced around the gym, nodding at a group of guys standing nearby who all called him A.J.

What a change from the last time she'd been there. Alone. With Jamie.

“It's really busy here.” Daisy recognized some men from the fund-raiser, including Owen and Eddie, working out with the big bags in the corner.

“Yeah, this place has a good vibe.” Alex laughed as Daisy waved her hand in front of her nose. “I said
vibe
, not smell.” He acknowledged a guy walking by with an upward nod, “Plus,” he said in a low voice, “we all like taking a turn in the ring every now and then. It's a good way to blow off steam.” He winked. “Don't tell your mother.”

“I won't.” Daisy winked back.

“If you're looking for Jamie, he's right there.” Bending so that he was on her level, he pointed to the men in the ring.

Daisy's stomach did a triple back flip culminating in a belly flop at the sight of him.

Sweating.

Shirtless.

Blood dripping from a cut beside his eye.

Dodging the fists of a man as tall as he was with probably at least twenty to thirty pounds on him.

“Oh, my,” Daisy whispered.

Alex chuckled. “Jamie loves a good fight. He's a tough son of a bitch, for a lawyer.” He grinned and gave Daisy a one-armed hug. “Later.”

Daisy watched him go, deciding once and for all that she really, really liked the man who was about to become her stepfather. God, that was a weird thought. She'd never had a father before, and Alex seemed more like an older brother than a dad.

Whatever. As long as her mom was happy, she was happy. Daisy turned back to the ring and, like a needle drawn to magnetic north, was propelled forward. A couple of empty chairs sat ringside and she took one, dragging it closer and sitting down to watch. The two men circled each other slowly, looking as if they'd been at it a while. Sweat bathed their skin, and Daisy noticed Jamie wasn't the only one who was bleeding—the other guy was, too.

Hey, wait a second...was that the cowboy from the fund-raiser?

Yes, it was.

She shook her head, realizing just how much Jamie had worked behind the scenes to help her. She continued to watch the fight, marveling at the notion that men could be friends one second—hadn't she seen Jamie clapping the cowboy on the back at the fund-raiser?—and willingly fighting the next. Yet she had to admit, there was something morbidly fascinating about watching two big, strong men hit each other. When Jamie took a hard right cross to the jaw, Daisy covered her mouth to keep from gasping out loud. When he retaliated with a combo, Daisy articulated her enthusiasm with a “Yes!”

She squeezed her knees together and leaned forward, hands pressed together before her face.

Beating the shit out of someone can be very cathartic.

She knew the truth of that statement firsthand, but watching Jamie go at it? The intensity of his expression, the play of his muscles across his back, his shoulders and abdomen, the force behind his punches, the expulsion of oxygen upon absorption of a blow? Yes. She could see this was more than just physical exercise. He was exorcising demons.

What sort of demons did Jamie Forsythe have, Daisy wondered.

Then she forgot to wonder because she suddenly saw herself up there in the ring, pummeling him with all she had, the crazy energy that coursed through her as she gave in to the physicality of it. The way Jamie let her do it...

The way she needed more.

Even now, her heart was beating erratically, as if she was the one fighting, not watching. Her palms were damp, her tummy trembled...low, low, low. At one point she had to shut her eyes because watching became too overwhelming, but behind her shuttered lids was a replay of what happened after she fought Jamie.

Drawing his thumb into her mouth, his hands in her shorts, him wrenching her legs wide and devouring her.

How much she loved it.

How hard she came.

When she finally opened her eyes, the fight was over. The two men stood center ring and clumsily patted each other on the back with their big gloves. “Thanks, coz. Brings back memories, don't it?”

“Yep,” Jamie said. “Memories of kicking your ass too many times to count.”

“Right,” the cowboy drawled. “In your dreams.” Using a towel draped over the rope right in front of Daisy, the cowboy wiped sweat off his face and then noticed her standing there. “Heya, Daisy.” He turned to Jamie. “Jimbo, your girlfriend's here.” He turned back to Daisy and grinned.

A sweet heat enveloped Daisy at the word
girlfriend
. She hadn't been someone's girlfriend in a very long time, and while Jamie wasn't her boyfriend, she couldn't stop her body's favorable response to the term.

However, her shy smile froze when she met Jamie's dark, smoldering gaze.

“Hi,” she said, feeling fluttery and uncertain. “Good fight.”

Jamie didn't smile back. Neither did he say anything. He simply grabbed his towel and water bottle, ducked through the ropes on the other side of the ring and, without a backward glance, stalked away.

15

H
IS
COUSIN
D
ILLON
was an ass and Daisy Sinclair was not his girlfriend. They'd barely even dated. The fact that he still couldn't stop thinking about her? Still had the urge to pick up the phone and call her, drop by her place and ring her doorbell? Tell her how badly he needed to see her? That was all probably the result of misplaced frustration, and he had it under control. He was managing the way he always managed, by coming to the gym every day, sparring with whomever he found there, using the ring as an outlet for the restless, unsettled beast that had made a home in his gut.

That beast was what had prompted him to start the club with Colin six years ago, after Sarah had died. One too many bar fights in the years after her death, and he'd almost gotten himself disbarred.

Since then, the ring was the only place Jamie could go to forget, taking out his frustration and angst over Sarah, over clients, over personal issues—Daisy Sinclair, for example—it didn't matter. The only thing that seemed to settle the beast was lacing up the gloves.

Except for lately.

Lately, it was as though the beast was unquenchable and no matter how many sparring partners Jamie found, how many times he whupped someone's ass or had his own ass whupped, the restless feeling never let up. He thought today might be different; he and his cousin had been fighting since they were kids and it was always a good match. Then Daisy showed up and the beast bellowed.

Why the hell did she have that effect on him?

Up until he'd met her, life had been perfect. He had a good job, one he enjoyed...for the most part. It paid well. He had a healthy sex life with women who weren't interested in long-term relationships—though, to be honest, he couldn't remember the last woman's name. Jess? Ashley?

Whatever. He was happy.

He'd been happy until Daisy Sinclair came into his life with her curvy, sensual body, her lust for life and her ability to satisfy his appetite in pretty much all the important areas of life: food, sex, passion, conversation. But if there was one thing he knew for a fact, it was that that shit didn't last and she'd done him a favor by telling him it was over. She was damn definitive about it, too, exactly what he needed.

So, why the hell was she here?

After showering, he strode out of the locker room, hoping she'd left, except the thought of her being gone prodded the restless thing in his gut, making it poke at his ribs and elbow his heart.

Of course she was still there, only now she was standing by the full-size bags, surrounded by a group of men. Big men. The sight left him feral and illogical.

Pushing his way into the circle, he wrapped his hand firmly around Daisy's upper arm and said in a low voice, “A word, if you don't mind.”

She glanced up at him and blushed.

Dammit. The woman was deadly. A cross between blushing school girl and sultry vixen. His own warring personalities, protector and asshole, vied for control when she looked at him like that. Well, no more. She'd met the gentler, softer Jamie. Time for her to meet the other one, the real him.

He yanked her across the floor to his office at the back of the gym, opened the door and pushed her inside.

“Jamie, there's no need to be—”

He didn't give her a chance to finish. Backing her right up against the wall, he said, “What are you doing here?”

“
You
brought me here.”

“That was different.” He leaned down. She smelled sweet, like vanilla, an innocent scent that drove him bat-shit crazy, making him to do stupid, stupid things. “You need to leave.” He pressed his body against hers.

“Okay. I will, but...”

“You can't just come in here, Daisy. This is a private club. Private.” He increased the tension on her wrists and raised her arms above her head.

“Right. I understand. It's just...”

“This is a place where guys can be guys. Without worrying about women.” He leaned closer, rubbing his cheek against her soft curls.

“Of course. Makes sense.” Daisy's heavy breathing bathed his face in peppermint.

He inhaled deeply. Peppermint and vanilla. Jesus. He placed his face right next to her ear. “Why are you here?” he whispered.

“Ah,” she panted. “You forgot something at my place.” She paused to take another breath. “I just came to drop it off.”

“Is that right?” He dropped lower, nuzzling into that crease between her jaw and shoulder, breathing in deeply. Barely controlling the urge to devour her.

“It's in my pocket.” She moved her hips against him, against the thigh he'd wedged between her legs, and the result of her not-so-innocent gyration was a searing heat aimed right at his groin. “Don't move,” he growled.

“O-kay.”

Jamie pulled back long enough to observe her expression. Her pretty eyes were wide with...something. Fear? Lust? Passion? A combination of all three? He groaned because he had no clue what he was doing anymore. His body's reaction to her was total instinct: needing to be close, needing to grind—body to body—totally ignoring that small part of his brain telling him to back far away from Daisy Sinclair.

“It's in my pocket.” She said again and twisted her pelvis, presenting her left hip pocket.

Keeping her wrists locked together with his left hand, he slid his right hand down—down her arm, her left side, grazing her breast, to the top of her jeans. He watched her face the entire time, noting the way her lids fluttered under his touch. Needing proof that he wasn't the only one who could not control himself when they were together.

“Here?” he asked in a low voice, dipping his fingers inside her pocket.

“Mmm-hmm.” Her lids fluttered closed as a sigh eased past her pretty lips.

He reached in, wriggling his fingers deeper into her tight pocket until he found something tucked at the very bottom. He pulled it out. Holding it close, he recognized his cuff link, and the sight brought back the night he'd spent at Daisy's. The thought caused his cock to harden. He tossed the cuff link onto his desk, the action creating a sense of déjà vu. He gazed down at her, seeing her as he'd seen her that night. Gorgeous. Sexy. Shy.

Dangerous.

“Is that it?” he asked, his free hand still playing around the seam of her pocket.

She blinked her eyes open. “No.” She drew in a shaky breath and let it out again. Rolling her eyes toward the door, she said, “I recognize those guys.” She grunted and shifted beneath him. He responded by leaning into her even more. “You invited them to the fund-raiser.”

“So what if I did?” He moved his thigh back and forth between her parted legs.

“You didn't have to do that.”

“No. I didn't.” With a gentle upward motion, he ground into her with his knee. He could feel her heat through the material of her jeans and his shorts.

“Thank you.”

She met his knee's upward movement with a downward gyration, which nearly killed him.

“You're a good guy, Jamie.”

He was not a good guy. “Yeah,” he said harshly. “I'm a regular Clark Kent.”

With a throaty laugh she said, “Does that make me Lois Lane?”

Jamie didn't answer. When she tugged against his hold, as if trying to get away, it only played into his unwanted arousal. Oh, he was
so
not a good guy at the moment.

“Um, Jamie? Are you going to let me go?” Her lips remained in a pretty O shape after the word
go
and Jamie lost it. Her body was so soft. Her liquid eyes gazed up at him, large and full of desire. Her small, pink tongue darted out, wetting those kissable lips.

He gave in.

Dropping his head to her level, he swooped in, crushing her lips with his need. The softness of her mouth amped up his desire and frustration to the point that he couldn't decide whether he wanted to kiss her or push her away.

Her soft moan broke the spell and Jamie fell back, as if the woman was a red-hot coal. “What am I doing?” Raising his hands above his head, he said, “I didn't mean to do that.”

She frowned and touched her lips. “You didn't?”

“No.” It was a lie. Of course he meant to do it. That and more. Much more.

“Felt like you meant it.”

Backing away, he explained, “Sometimes I get this way. After a fight.” It was partly true. The adrenaline from fighting could act as an aphrodisiac. But did adrenaline explain why he wanted to strip her and take her against the wall, hard? Did the thrill of the fight explain why he'd held her captive and still longed to do it again, except this time with her bare legs wrapped around his waist, her soft naked breasts against his chest? Did it explain how he longed to see her eyes grow hazy with desire as he pushed his cock inside her?

“Oh.” The light in Daisy's eyes dimmed and she bit her lip. “In that case, I guess I'll be on my way.”

“That's a good idea.”

She skirted around him to the door. “Thanks again.”

“Sure.”

There. They were done. Now she could leave and the sooner she left and was out of his life, the sooner he could return to the ring and pound away the thing in his gut. The sooner his world could return to normal.

She straightened her shirt and looked him square in the eye, her delicate brows twitching in confusion. “Okay, then,” she said. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

She stayed exactly where she was.

“You'd better go now, Daisy.”

“Oh, right.” She opened the door and then stood in the opening. “Goodbye.”

“Do you need me to walk you to the door?”

“No.” She still didn't leave.

“Daisy? Why are you still here?”

The way she nibbled her lip almost had Jamie dragging her back inside his office, slamming the door and giving in to his desire. Instead he clenched his fists.

“I just—”

“You just what?”

Shaking her head, she said, “Never mind. It's not important.” Her chest rose with a big breath. “I guess I made a mess of everything.” Her chin quivered, prompting her to cover her mouth, nod and turn away.

Jamie ground his teeth as he watched her leave. This was exactly what he needed to avoid. These emotional scenes. Every time with her it was out-of-control passion followed by a roller coaster of emotion. A recipe for disaster, the kind of thing he'd worked hard at avoiding all his adult life.

As she hurried toward the door, Jamie overheard one of the guys call out, “Next time you come, bring some of those cinnamon things.”

“Yeah, and cheese buns.”

“Apple strudel.”

“She's not coming back,” Jamie shouted to the gym at large. When a few of the men hollered back complaints, he yelled, “Men only.”

Daisy turned at the door, and even from that distance, he could read the hurt on her face. He had to grip the door frame with both hands to keep himself from chasing her, apologizing and taking her into his arms.

He had to let her go. It was for the best. Daisy Sinclair deserved a man who would not let her down, and that man was not him.

* * *

J
AMIE
'
S
REACTION
HURT
and confused Daisy. She rode home in the back of the cab, staring out the window but seeing her reflection instead.

He's smitten with you.
They were her mother's words but her grandmother's voice.

“If he's so smitten, why was he such a jerk?” she whispered to the reflection.

“Sorry, lady. Did you say something?” The driver asked.

“No,” Daisy said, raising her voice over the loud hip-hop music. “Just talking to myself back here.”

“You're not one of those crazies are you?”

“Sometimes, but not today.” She winked at the driver, who was regarding her through the rearview mirror, then went back to gazing out the window. Staring at her reflection wasn't helping her figure out Jamie's reaction. If he really didn't want to see her again, why kiss her? If he really liked her, why had he been such an ass? None of it made sense.

Things were no clearer a few minutes later when the cab pulled up outside Nana Sin's. Right off, the building looked odd. Vacant. There was nothing left to identify it as the former bakery except the darkened patch on the brick where the sign had hung. The signs, the furniture, the equipment, all of it had been packed, loaded and moved to the storage facility. Everything gone in one day.

It was completely surreal.

On the front door was a new sign explaining the closure, though she'd have to post a different one tomorrow as this one was covered in handwritten condolences and lamentations over the closing of the shop, including a scrawled note that read,
You are the best and I will miss you more than you'll ever know.
Johnny.

Unlocking the door to the apartment entrance, Daisy slowly climbed the steps. How many more times would she get to do this? She paused and put a hand against the wall, feeling woozy all of a sudden. Her new apartment was vacant and she'd been told she could move in immediately, but she wasn't ready. Not even close.

Maybe she'd do some painting over at the new place while it was empty, something bright and cheery, because she planned on being bright and cheery.

Someday.

She opened the door at the top of the stairs and looked around her home as if seeing it for the first time. The apartment was small but it was cozy—though in her hunt for places, Daisy had realized that
cozy
was code word for teeny-tiny. A brick fireplace, crown molding, original fixtures. It was a great place.

A great place that would soon no longer be hers, as the boxes lined up against the wall served to remind her.

This was it. Regardless if she stayed a couple days or until the very last day of possession, nothing was going to be the same again, and Daisy experienced a tingling sensation, starting at the crown of her head and fluttering down her body, as though she'd been showered in glass dust.