Back in Black (6 page)

“Deal. We’ll keep things fully clothed. How’s that?”

She gave one brisk nod.

“But I have a condition. Whatever it is you want me to do can’t start for a few days. I’ll need time to rearrange my schedule. And I want to know up front everything you have planned.” With a little warning, he could rearrange the less desirable appearances without her ever knowing.

“Of course.” She nodded toward her briefcase. “I have a detailed strategy all mapped out. Once we put our heads together and compare time frames, I’m sure we can make everything work.”

“Then it’s a deal.” Drew started for her, and even though he didn’t want to admit it, the thought of tasting her skin left him edgy and taut.

She held up a hand. “I have a condition also.”

Damn it. He should have known. “Let’s hear it.”

“When in public, whether on arranged publicity or not, I want you to refrain from using objectionable four-letter words.”

And so it begins. For Drew, a word was a word. He couldn’t see why everyone got so hyped up over it. “Like? Give me an example of what you consider objectionable.”

Suspicion tightened her features. “Drew Black, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Sorry, I don’t.” Would she say it? He hoped so. Gillian Noode could use some loosening up. He was just the man to help her with that. “Be more precise.”

“Fine.” Proving she had plenty of backbone, she said, “I’ll compile a list for you and present it to you at our next meeting.”

Drew couldn’t help but laugh. “Gillian, you little prude. You can’t even say it, can you?” He eased closer, coaxing her. “Come on, lady. Let me hear you say it. Whisper it in my ear if that helps.”

Seconds passed, and then a devilish light shone in her bright blue eyes. “All right.”

“Really?” His pulse thrummed in excitement. Damn, he was getting easy when something like this turned him on. “Well, come on then.”

Wearing the slightest of smiles, Gillian sashayed up to him, put her small hands on his shoulders, and went on tiptoe. Her breasts pressed into his chest.

With her lips all but touching his ear, she breathed,
“Fuck.”

She eased back to her heels and looked at him.

Ridiculous as it seemed, he felt the stirrings of a boner. “I like how you say that.”

“Thank you.” She looked very pleased with herself, as if she’d somehow put him in his place.

That wouldn’t do.

To keep her close, Drew put his hands on her waist. “What I’d really like is to hear you screaming it. In bed. You know, as in, ‘Fuck me, Drew.’”

Her smug expression faded beneath embarrassment. She moved away from him—and he felt like a jerk.

“Gillian . . .”

She didn’t let him speak. “
Hell
and
damn
aren’t too horrible, if used in moderation and in certain situations within a defined audience.” She kept her back to him as she put a lot of distance between them. “But you’d do well to avoid
son of a bitch
and
bastard
, too. Oh, and calling women
broads
.” Turning back to him now that half a room separated them, she shook her head in a pitying way. “That term is so Neanderthal, Drew, it has hair on it.”

Tension spiking, Drew rubbed the back of his neck. Somehow, his plans had gone awry in a big way. He needed to get things back on track. “Fine. So now that I know what I can and can’t say, what’s first on the agenda?”

She seated herself at the table again and shuffled through her papers until she found a brochure. She handed it to him.

“What’s this?”

“I’ve been in contact with the director of this local group. They work with troubled teenage boys. Many of them have horrid home lives. They need something to aspire to.”

Huh. Not a heinous task at all. Drew could see the merit in giving at-risk kids some guidance. Some of the fighters had joined the sport to harness their anger over an abusive background. Some had gotten into it to escape the trappings of poverty. The SBC was a family that supported, encouraged, and rewarded.

“Good idea.”

She looked nonplussed for only a moment. “The director has agreed to let you do a presentation. It’s imperative that you get across the more positive aspects of your sporting organization.”

“Want me to hunt around for something good to say, is that it?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Shifting in her seat, she presented him with an earnest expression. “Do you think maybe you’re a little sensitive about the subject, given the effort you’ve put into making the sport a success?”

More like he was sensitive around her, given her attitude toward him, namely that he needed to change to meet standards. But that wasn’t her fault, really. She was just doing a job. He’d have to remember that.

Drew leaned on the wall. “What do
you
consider the most positive features of the SBC?”

Dead serious, as if she’d been championing the SBC from its inception, she recited a list to him. “For starters, I’d talk about the dedication and hard work that it takes to learn the various disciplines. This isn’t just one sport, it’s a combination of many sports meshed together for the greatest effect.”

“True.” He liked it that she understood the complexities of mixed martial arts. Alongside the guys who’d joined to escape the streets, he had Olympic contenders and All-American wrestlers. He had the best of the best. “What else?”

“The boys could use some encouragement toward caring for their health by avoiding drugs, cigarettes, and alcohol. You could remind them about the benefits of keeping up with a good diet and routine exercise. And they should understand the motivation necessary to stick with something until you’re successful.”

“Not every fighter is successful.” Like any sport, only the very best got title shots or gained any real fame.

“Of course not. So you could talk about how they learn from their experiences and move on as wiser, better men. But also cover the tolerance to accept the learning curve inherent in any sport. I watched some DVDs, and a lot of those guys get the crap beat out of them, but they stand up and shake hands and later, in interviews, they say they already know what they did wrong and how they will correct it for the next fight.”

Drew realized that he enjoyed talking to her. That was rare for him. Sure, he enjoyed chatting with the women he dated, but this was different. Gillian was different. He spoke with her as he might . . . a fighter. Only this was better, because she looked a whole hell of a lot better than any dude.

Grinning at his own observation, Drew said, “Every good fighter learns as much from a loss as he does from a win.”

“There, you see? You’ll be perfect for this if you present it that way. I think you’ll be a wonderful speaker to teach them about respecting others, especially those who try to guide you and train you so that you can improve yourself.”

“Huh. I’m impressed, Gillian.” He pushed off the wall and walked over to her. “You do seem to have a handle on the finer points of mixed martial arts.”

The praise must have pleased her, given her smile. “Barely, but I’m trying to learn.”

And doing a good job of it. Drew stopped before her. “When did you want me to speak to the group?”

“When is the soonest you’ll be free?”

Together they went over his schedule and, assuming it would work with the director of the club, decided on Monday. Then, while she had her paperwork out, he looked over the other media appearances she had planned for him.

One particular group, WAVS, made him scowl. Women Against Violent Sports was composed of a bunch of uppity biddies who protested everything they didn’t understand. The group, and especially the ringleader, Audrey Porter, had become a thorn in his side. Not that long ago, he’d lost his cool in an online interview video, calling Audrey’s second in command a few choice words for misquoting him. He didn’t remember the woman’s name, only that she’d tried to malign him and the sport in the worst possible way.

Unfortunately, the video had flown around the Internet at the speed of light. Damn near everyone had seen it . . . but apparently not Gillian or she would have been on his ass about it. No doubt the unkind things he’d said to that woman would make Gillian’s hair stand on end.

Drew wasn’t particularly proud of what he’d done, but he also figured anyone who dished it could damn well take it, and the uptight broads at WAVS liked to dish it with great regularity.

He decided to say nothing to Gillian for now. When she got around to lining up a date with the annoying group, then he’d clue her in on the past history so she’d understand just how badly that meeting might go.

After giving him a copy of the schedule, filled with a dozen appearances over the next few weeks, Gillian filed away her own copy. He’d have to do a lot of shuffling within his personal agenda, but what the hell? He thrived on chaos.

When she finished up and closed away her laptop and briefcase, he drew her around to him. “Now.”

She blinked twice fast. “Now . . . what?”

“My turn.” As Drew touched her neck and brushed her soft hair over her shoulder, his voice went husky in anticipation. “You ready?”

“Really, Drew.” She tried to scoff, but her lashes kept fluttering and her lips trembled. “No preparation is needed. It’s
only
a kiss, and only on my neck.”

We’ll see,
he thought. “Okay then.” He leaned in and breathed against her skin. “When I kiss you, you can count to three for me. When the time is up, let me know.”

“Got it.”

So soft and husky—she could deny it all she wanted, but her voice gave her away; she anticipated this as much as he did.

Dragging out the suspense, Drew got close enough to breathe in her scent but didn’t yet touch her. He kept his hands at his sides, but he was so much bigger than her that he still surrounded her by his size and strength.

He liked that.

Gillian wasn’t a frail woman; she had curves galore, but she was small boned and delicate compared to him.

He brushed his lips over her and felt her involuntary gasp. Opening his mouth, he took a soft love bite, soothed with his tongue, and then sucked against her skin.

Holding perfectly still, even her breath held, Gillian didn’t protest.

She didn’t count either. But then, hell, Drew got so drawn into tasting her, enjoying her, that he forgot that this was meant to tease, to keep her from getting the upper hand.

With a soft moan, she tipped her head more and her hands came up to clutch at his shirt. Drew slipped his arms around her and drew her in close.

Yeah, that felt right.

She pressed against him, trembling, and Drew realized that things had gotten out of hand. He couldn’t,
wouldn’t
, finish this tonight, so there was no point in further teasing her, or himself.

As he lifted his head, he pressed hers to his shoulder and whispered, “Three.”

She stiffened, but he was quick to run a hand up and down her back. “Don’t get prickly, because I sure as hell forgot what I was doing, too.”

She tucked in her chin so that her forehead was against his pecs. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.” But then she pushed back from him. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes widened. “Are you kidding me? For what?”

“For letting that get out of hand.” She smoothed her clothes with shaking hands and tried to infuse a hoity-toity tone to her next jibe. “We all know that your behavior sinks to unreasonable depths on a regular basis, but I’m supposed to—”

“Be better than that?” He crossed his arms. “Better than me?”

“I was going to say more professional.”

“Yeah, I just bet you were.” So pissed that he could barely contain himself, Drew glared at her. That she would cop this attitude now, when only moments before he could have . . .

Inspired, he dropped his arms and indulged in an evil smile.

“What?” Alarmed, Gillian took a step back. “What are you thinking?”

“You want me, Gillian Noode. Wallow in denial all you want, but it’s still true. And know what? You’re going to have me.”

“What?
No
, I most certainly am not.”

“Oh, yeah, you are. Probably sooner than you think.” When she looked ready to run, he held up a hand. “Even you have to know I don’t force women.”

“I never said you did.”

But still she looked at him as if he might sprout horns. Drew shook his head. “We’ll continue playing these games for now, because I don’t mind waiting. But mark my words, lady, your time will come.”

Gillian put her shoulders back in a display of affront. “I’ve had enough of your bullying.”

“Yeah, well, if you’re not going to eat dinner with me, then it’s time for you to go anyway.”

Her mouth fell open. “Would you honestly expect me to sit through dinner now?”

Shrugging, he said, “Why not?” He looked her over. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist me that long?”

Jerking around, she grabbed up her belongings, all the while muttering to herself. Drew appreciated the picture she made; even all fired up, she still moved with feminine grace.

Holding her laptop and briefcase like a shield, she faced him. “I’ll call the director of the boys’ group tonight. Given his enthusiasm the last time we spoke, I’m sure Monday will work, but either way, I’ll be in touch.”

“ ’Course you will.” He couldn’t resist teasing her again. “And you know, you don’t have to pretend that it’s all for the job, either.”

She actually growled, then she stormed around him for the door. Right before she reached it, Drew said softly, “Gillian?”

Maybe expecting an apology or some such nonsense, she paused with her hand on the doorknob. Over her shoulder, she looked at him. “What?”

“I just thought you should know something.”

One brow lifted.

“I marked you.”

Brows beetling in puzzlement, she said, “Excuse me?”