Possession (9 page)

She’d really thought this through. “I can help you achieve your dream. I have contacts to get you on those shows as well as help you raise your bakery profile. You’ll need capital to—”

Whipping her head around, she pulled her hand. “No. Thanks, but no.”

Keeping her hand tucked in his, he tried again. “Kat, I have an entertainment arm to SLAM that gives me excellent resources—”

“Absolutely not.” She stopped tugging her hand and faced him. “I appreciate the offer, but I need to learn how to expand and manage multiple businesses, not have someone else hand it all to me. You’re doing enough by teaching me to fight and conquer my panic attacks. That’s key. If I can’t overcome them, then I’m not going to do the rest.”

Satisfaction unfurled in his chest, surprising him. He’d meant it that he’d help her. He’d done it for his other plus-ones. But Kat didn’t want his money or power. She wanted him and the self-defense lessons he could give her.

“Besides, I have an investor.”

Sloane stiffened. “Who?”

“My brother. He said if I expand, he has some money he can invest and he’ll cosign a loan.”

“Marshall?” While her parents and David treated Kat like she was a brain-damaged embarrassment, her brother had appeared more caring. “How did that come about?” Far as he knew, she hadn’t seen her family.

“I wanted to talk to him about David.”

Sloane listened as Kat described her conversation with her brother. She ended with, “I almost chickened out and didn’t tell him my theory. I didn’t want to see him look at me like my parents do.”

“So what made you take the chance?”

“Because if I didn’t and something happened, how would I live with that guilt?”

Sloane didn’t have an answer. His guilt over Sara had had a chokehold on him for nearly fourteen years.

* * *

What kind of winery had a cage for mixed martial arts fighting inside a huge domed building? Kat allowed herself one or two sips of wine, struggling not to feel out of place. Sloane’s black suit accentuated his powerful frame as he easily commanded the entire room—even from inside the octagon cage. Four other men wearing suits and death stares were spread behind him.

“The Inaugural Caged Thunder Event,
The Pro Vs Amateurs Slam
, will be private and exclusive. It will not be televised or recorded in any fashion. This is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and only for a select few. The amateurs that get into the cage for their shot at a SLAM contract for representation? They will be risking their very lives against these proven fighters.” Sloane dropped his hand holding the mike, his gaze scanning the crowd fanned out on the custom stadium seating.

Kat sucked in a breath, seeing another side of Sloane. The performer and the fighter who had fought in front of thousands. He knew how to work a crowd. She leaned forward in her seat, as captivated as everyone else in the room.

“Tonight, we’re auctioning off one hundred tickets. Once those tickets are gone, no more will be available for this exclusive event. You may enter your bids with my assistant, Liza…” he gestured to the woman a few feet from him, “…this evening until midnight. All the proceeds will go to Fighters to Mentors. There will be no administrative costs. Rolling Thunder Winery and SLAM Inc are covering those.”

Sloane quickly introduced the fighters who would each go up against two amateur fighters. The ultimate prize, if any of the fighters were good enough, was for a contract for SLAM Inc to represent the fighter.

“Liza will explain how to enter your bids.” Sloane handed off the microphone to his assistant.

Kat barely listened, riveted on Sloane as he leaped down from the cage and instantly was swallowed up by a swarm of people trying to get his attention.

Losing sight of him, she dropped her gaze to her wine. It was a crisp white, but she couldn’t recall what kind exactly.

Her thoughts were full of Sloane. He was bigger than life, wearing power like a second skin. She was so out of her comfort zone here. Yet in the limo, she’d been comfortable enough to talk to him about her dreams for her bakery, and her fantasy of spanking. He made her feel safe and capable, not foolish for dreaming or depraved for a fantasy. She firmed her resolve. If she could handle talking to Sloane like that, she could handle this event.

She lost interest in staring at her wine when a pair of black handcrafted leather loafers stepped into her line of sight. Slowly, she scrutinized the perfectly draped trousers and slim hips, to the black silk shirt covered by an exquisite jacket.

Beneath the strong lights, his face captivated her, making her want to stroke the harsh outline of his jaw, trace his two scars—the one through his eyebrow was fainter than the one by his mouth. Words like cute didn’t go in the same sentence as Sloane. Jaggedly handsome worked. Sinfully sexy. Compelling and dangerous.

He looked at her as if there was no one else in the room.

“Don’t like your wine?”

Focus.
“It’s very good.”

“You’re not drinking it.”

“Sadly, the vintage doesn’t pair well with my limp.” It took effort not to check to make sure her scars were covered. The dropped hem of the dress helped hide them.

He leaned over, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair. “Didn’t we just talk about you wanting to let go? You won’t fall while you’re with me.”

His caramel-colored eyes seared her. Made her feel safe, protected and sexy. Made her want to let go of worrying about her leg and not embarrassing both of them for one second. Her heart drummed heavily. Being so close to him kicked up her pulse.

“I can’t.” She’d done well so far, but she wasn’t going to risk stumbling and falling. Or a panic attack. It was important to her not to embarrass him tonight.

“You can.” Covering her hand around the wineglass, he said, “Unless you need help doing it. Like having me feed the wine to you from my mouth.”

She clenched her thighs at the streak of heat rushing through her. “You’re bluffing. There are at least a hundred people here.”

His hand closed around hers and tugged the glass from her fingers. He took a deep drink, but the long column of his throat didn’t move. Slowly, he lowered the glass and closed in on her. The closer he got to her, the less she wanted to resist. The more she craved letting go. The seductiveness of trusting him melted her.

When he was only an inch from her, Kat dug her fingers into her own thigh to stifle her moan of desire. A slight flush caused the scar by his mouth to appear white, jagged.

“Sloane?”

A sultry female voice shattered the moment.

Sloane’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

For a tick of time, Kat thought he was going to ignore the voice to feed her the wine. And she would let him.

Then he swallowed, shoved back and rose to his full height. He handed off the wineglass to a server and faced the woman. “Paloma.”

Kat drew in a breath and closed her mouth as a woman in a fiery red dress that barely skimmed her thin thighs laid her hand on Sloane’s arm. “It’s been a long time.”

Sloane took Kat’s hand and helped her to stand. “This is Kat Thayne.”

“Nice to meet you.” The words flowed on autopilot, while Kat’s brain screamed out,
Paloma the singer!
Her trademark blonde hair fell in a shimmering sheet to her waist.

She flashed a smile. “A pleasure, Kat. You’re with Sloane this evening, I take it?” Open curiosity flickered in her soft doe-brown eyes.

“Yes.” Sloane tucked her hand into his elbow. “I hear you have a new CD coming out soon.”

Her smile widened, and she bounced lightly on her stilettos. “It’s amazing. I can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

“Happy to do it. Enjoy your evening.” Sloane guided Kat toward a door. “Let’s get dinner and the obligations over with so I can have you to myself.”

She barely noticed the cool air as they went outside. “Paloma was your plus-one.” Kat winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Damn it, it didn’t matter.

“For a while, yes.”

So matter-of-fact. “You helped her with her career.”

“It’s what she wanted from me.”

Not the only thing.
The image of Sloane naked with Paloma, with any other woman, touching her like he touched Kat—her stomach burned at the thought. Oh crap, this was a bad sign. Jealousy sucked, and it indicated ownership when no one owned Sloane. Steeling herself against the unwelcome streak of possessiveness, she focused on Ethan holding open the door to the limo. Once seated, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Thunder Cage Stadium is set apart from the actual Rolling Thunder Winery. We’re having dinner in the wine-tasting room there. It’s just a minute drive.”

Still reeling from the emotions Paloma had stirred in her, Kat cast around for another subject to talk about. Finally she settled on what Sloane had mentioned when in the cage. “What is Fighters to Mentors?”

“Just what it sounds like. An organization where fighters, a lot of them retired, mentor kids.”

Kat stared at him, thinking of his growing-up years, many of them in foster homes. “You’re a mentor?”

“I do some mentoring. When I have time, I hang out with two boys, Robert and Kevin. Help out a little bit with some other kids. But some of these guys do a hell of lot more, like Drake…” He trailed off and turned away. His fingers dug into his thighs.

Sloane was an island, allowing so few people in and never letting his pain out. She wrapped her fingers around his rigid hand and tugged it until she cradled it between her palms.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

She faced him. “Comforting you? Being your friend? Yeah.”

He twined his fingers with hers. “You keep doing shit like this and I might not be able to let you go. Ever.”

Chapter Six

To keep her nerves under control, Kat took in the Rolling Thunder Winery tasting room. The large room boasted custom racks trimmed with wrought iron lining the walls to display wines. Marble floors, beamed ceilings and rich cherry wood accents added to the sophistication. Waitstaff moved efficiently between the round tables draped in snowy white tablecloths and laden with delicate china.

Every person in the room was staring at their table, more specifically, at Sloane and Ronnie T. Devonshire, the real estate mogul turned reality TV star.

“It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?” The blonde woman next to Kat said.

Turning to her, she smiled. “That obvious?”

“Nope, I just happen to have inside information. I’m Sherry Moreno. John…” she elbowed the big man with the close-shaved head next to her, “…is my husband. He and Sloane have been friends since their UFC days.”

“Hi there, Kat.” John looked over his wife’s head. “I’ve seen you in the gym, but haven’t had a chance to say hello.”

Kat nodded at him. “Nice to meet you both.”

Sloane leaned over. “Sherry is a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. I’ve asked her to spar with you this week while I’m gone.”

Startled by that announcement, Kat blurted, “You did?” She wasn’t sure she liked that idea.

His eyes warmed, and he toyed with her hair. “I’ll miss working out with you, but I’m traveling all week. Sherry is good.”

“I could wait.”

He shook his head. “Do this for me. You need to stay consistent with training to be ready to handle anything.”

He meant her panic attacks and David. Just thinking of David fired her determination. “Okay.”

The corners of his lips kicked up. “There’s my fighter.”

“You might end up regretting bringing that out in me one day.”

He slanted closer. “Think you can take me, baker girl?”

“Oh man.” Sherry laughed. “I’m going to teach her to put you on your ass, Sloane.”

Kat ripped her attention from Sloane to study the woman she’d be sparring with. In her sapphire-blue cocktail dress, she popped some serious biceps, yet managed to make it all look feminine and alluring. “Teach me to do that, and you can have desserts free from my bakery for a year.”

Sherry’s hazel eyes lit up like a firecracker. “Deal.”

John leaned over his wife. “Dude, you are screwed. These two together are trouble.”