Fighting Love (Love to the Extreme) (17 page)

“Uh, no? What the hell, Tommy?”

“No way am I leaving you on your own, hurt like this. You couldn’t even get up to go to your own

room a minute ago. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t done this before.”

“That was years ago, when I was home from college. I’ve pulled my back since then, and I’ve done just

fine on my own.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” He slid into bed, obviously intending to completely ignore her wishes. “It’s what best

friends do.”

Best friends
, she reminded herself sternly as her heart sank ten different ways.
That’s all this is
.

She clenched her eyes closed, her entire body stiffening as the blankets shifted, and his naked leg

brushed against hers. He spooned up next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and perching his chin

on her shoulder. A half-naked Tommy all cuddled up behind her—
holy Mother of God
.

“How you feeling?”

How the hell did he
think
? Like she was jumping out of her damn skin. “Fine,” she managed to croak.

“Come on, I’m serious. Does it still hurt as much?”

Oh. My. God. He wanted to
talk
? All she could think about was the feel of his freaking
naked
body

pressed behind hers, him holding her tight.

Okay.
Deep breath
. At least he was trying to give her something to do other than wanting to wiggle her

body backward, closer to his. “No, I’m b-better.”

“Meds working?”

“Moving…a little easier. Making me sleepy, too.”

“Good. Slide your top off.”

Her eyes popped open again. “W-What?”

“I’ll massage your shoulders. You’re so rigid. I also want to put some muscle cream on your back.

Trust me, this stuff works great.”

“I’m fine.” There was no possible way she was allowing him to touch her like that.

He scooted backward then rose to kneel beside her. “Come on, Julie. I feel terrible you’re hurting, and

it’s something I can do. Let me help. Please.”

The pleading in his voice made her waver. “Fine. But I’ll keep my shirt on, thank you.”

“You know as well as I do that you can’t get a proper massage with a shirt on. It’s not a big deal. Take it

off.”

Not a big deal
, she mimicked in her mind. Of course it wasn’t. For
him
.

God. How many more reminders would she need before it finally sank in?

Sighing, she tugged on the sleeves and pulled the top over her head. Thank God she still had her bra on.

Easing onto her stomach, she balled the shirt under her chin. As the sharp smell of mint hit her nose, his

warm hands rubbed into the sore muscles across her lower back first. The medicated rub heated her skin,

penetrating deep. But the heat was nothing in comparison to the way his palms scorched her flesh as he

moved to knead her shoulders. She kept focus on the way the massage made her feel and not on who was

doing it. The more he manipulated the stiff muscles of her shoulders, the more she felt the tension leave her

body.

Until he unclasped the back of her bra—then all the tension poured back in. She gasped. “Tommy!

What are you doing?”

His hands hesitated for a moment. “Rubbing your back.”

His tone made her annoyed at herself. He was just trying to make her feel better. It wasn’t his fault that

unclasping her bra made
her
immediately think of sex.

She scrunched farther down onto the mattress, trying again to focus only on the massage and not the

towering, dominating man who had his hands roaming over her naked back. It didn’t work quite as well

this time. She could feel his warm breath on her neck as he bent over her and the gentle way he handled

her, as if she were made of precious glass.

She inhaled, and her eyes drooped. She blinked a few times, astonished at her sudden sleepiness,

thankful that the muscles relaxers had finally worked their way into her system. She gave a drowsy smile.

Well, if she couldn’t ignore him, at least she’d pass out.

His hands worked their way down the middle of her spine, then spread out to her sides. Again he

kneaded every bit of tension out of her muscles, the mixture of meds and his lulling massage making her

feel like a puddle of honey. She sighed, sinking deeper and deeper into the fuzzy shirt under her chin.

She needed some good, solid rest, so she could beat this thing and get back on her feet. Fast.

She couldn’t let him take care of her.

If she did, she might never recover from the damage he’d do to her heart.

Chapter 9

The soft, even breathing coming from beside him slowly penetrated Tommy’s dreamless sleep. He

blinked open his eyes, immediately aware of the feminine body curled under the blankets next to him.

Julie
.

He studied the ceiling before turning his head on the pillow to stare at the naked shoulder peeking out

from under the covers, tempting him. On the rare occasion he woke up next to a woman, his immediate

instinct was to get her out of his bed—out of his house. Or vice versa. He didn’t feel that need right now.

Not at all. It was quite the opposite, actually. He wanted to roll over to her side and wake her with deliberate

touches. Kiss the beautiful skin of her shoulder.

Was that only because he hadn’t slept with her yet? Would that change the moment he did? If his past

was any indication, the answer was yes. Then he’d lose her. If he did nothing, he would eventually lose her

to someone else.

God, both outcomes scared the hell out of him.
She
scared the hell out of him.

As he glanced at her bare back again, he smothered a groan. He should’ve made her put her top back on

last night. Thank God he’d had the foresight to re-hook her bra. After he’d massaged her shoulders for a

few minutes, he’d glanced up to see she’d passed out. He hadn’t had the heart to wake her.

And he still didn’t. So he needed to get the hell out of this room. Before he did something he’d regret.

Or worse, that he
didn’t
regret…

He slid out of bed and glanced at the clock.

Eight thirty a.m.

Mac would be here in thirty minutes. He had called his friend last night while waiting for Julie to change

into her fleece PJs. He wanted to do something special for her so she didn’t have to lift a finger today.

Cooking was not his specialty. Luckily, he happened to know a Michelin-star chef who loved to cook for

others.

He gathered some clothes from the closet, then quietly called the dogs off the end of the bed and headed

out of the room, closing the door behind them. After unlocking the doggie door and filling their bowls, he

went into the bathroom and showered.

Just as he stepped into the living room, a soft knock came from the front door. Tommy cringed, waiting

for the animals to start barking and wake Julie, but they didn’t utter a peep. As he made his way to let Mac

in, he peered into the kitchen to see their bowls empty and not one dog in sight. God, he loved that doggie

door.

Tommy ushered Mac in, who had two bags of groceries in his arms.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked, knowing nothing in those bags had been cheap. Not if Mac was

making it.

Shaking his head, his friend set the bags on the counter. “My treat.” When Tommy immediately opened

his mouth to object, his friend held up his hand. “No. Seriously. The last meal I made for someone else was

Dante and Cait. I miss cooking for other people, so I really want to do this.”

“If you’re sure, but I owe you, okay? Anything. All you have to do is ask.”

Mac smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. You never know when you need to cash in a favor.”

“You know, if you miss cooking so much, you should get your ass back in a swanky restaurant.”

Tommy rounded the counter and came to stand beside his friend in front of the stove.

The easy smile on Mac’s lips vanished as a haunted look darkened the man’s eyes and his jaw tensed.

“That’s not an option.”

Then he turned away, opening cabinets. Noting the tension radiating from his friend, Tommy dropped

the subject. “Whatchya looking for?”

“Pots and pans.”

He pointed to the cabinet two doors down.

“Ah. Thanks.” Mac grabbed a pot, filled it with water, and set it on the stove.

“So what are we making for breakfast?” Tommy asked.

“A classic. Eggs Benedict with a side of sliced fresh fruit.” Mac started pulling items from the grocery

bag—eggs, English muffins, strawberries, pineapple. And the ingredients kept coming.

“Jeez. And for lunch and dinner, too, I take it?”

Mac made a face at him. “Lunch is a nice lobster bisque and mixed green salad with a red-wine

vinaigrette. And for dinner, we’re going all out. Dover sole with crabmeat and seafood stuffing.”

Most of this sounded Greek to Tommy. He sighed. “You do realize Julie will know I didn’t make this

alone, right?”

Mac chuckled. “Sorry about that. When I got to shopping, I got a little carried away.”

The statement made Tommy wonder even more why Mac refused to be a chef again. He obviously

loved to cook. Had been—still was—damn good at it. What could have happened that made his friend stop

doing something he loved so much?

Mac unwrapped the fresh English muffins and thrust them at Tommy, breaking into his thoughts.

“Throw these in the oven. Then we’ll start on the hollandaise sauce.”

Mac took the lead on poaching the eggs, which was fine with Tommy. If they weren’t scrambled he had

no idea how to fix them. He watched Mac slide the eggs into simmering water while Tommy sautéed the

Canadian bacon.

“How is Julie, anyway?” Mac asked, breaking the companionable silence.

“She was hurting pretty badly last night. I’m hoping the muscle cream and relaxers have worked some

their magic today.”

Mac removed the eggs from the water with a slotted spoon and placed them on a paper towel, dabbing

off the excess water. “Glad it wasn’t worse.” He paused a moment before saying, “Mike let the guys know

you’re coming back tomorrow. Thought I’d give you a heads up that some of the guys aren’t too thrilled.”

Tommy had expected that. Right before it all imploded around him, several of the guys didn’t even

want to be in the gym while he was there. Damn, he must have been a real douche. “Mike said I had a lot to

prove, and I know I do. Not just to him and Ethan, either. To everyone. I wronged a lot of people there at

the end, so I get that it’s going to take time for people to trust me again.”

“I won’t sugarcoat it. The guys were glad to see you go back then.” His friend looked over at him as

Tommy winced. “There were a couple of times I wanted to punch you in the face myself. Especially when

you’d show up an hour late for practice, then be a complete dickhead to everyone around you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have any excuses, Mac. Something happened to me after I won that belt. I

changed, and not for the better. Priorities got skewed.” He slashed a hand through his hair. “Some people

handle fame with grace. I was not one of them. If I get a second chance, believe me, the outcome won’t be

the same. I realize I have way more to lose now.”

“Unfortunately, it takes losing everything you have to realize what meant the most.” Mac squinted for a

second, then gave his head a shake.

Tommy wanted to offer his friend support, but Mac was a very private person and wouldn’t appreciate

the gesture, so he said, “Anyway, the guys may get a bit of a reprieve. I’m going to postpone my return until

Julie is up and moving around on her own.”

“I figured that would be the case.” Mac stepped back from the stove and clapped his hands. “Okay.

Sauce is done. All we’ve got to do is set the plate. You want to do that?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Mac instructed Tommy on how to layer the English muffin just right. “Now drizzle the sauce on top.”

After he’d done so, and added a serving of grapes, pineapples, and strawberries, he placed the plate on

a tray with a tall glass of orange juice.

Mac frowned.

“What?” Tommy asked.

“It needs something. Hold on.” He sliced another ring from the pineapple, then cut away the hard

exterior and carved out chunks until it had six pointed sides like a star. Grabbing a toothpick, he stabbed it

through one of the smaller strawberries and threaded it through the middle of the pineapple so the red fruit

sat on top. Then he placed it on the corner of the plate.

“Damn, man. Really?” It looked like a tasty flower, making the entire plate come to life.

Mac shrugged. “It’s all about presentation.”

“Well, you got that down, dude. Julie will know for
damn
sure I had nothing to do with this.”

Mac clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s the thought that counts. Go feed your woman.”

His woman
. Damn, but he liked the sound of that.

“I’ll be back to help with lunch,” he said.

Tommy paused with the tray. “You don’t have to do that.”

Mac lifted a brow. “So, you’re going to make the lobster bisque yourself?”

Tommy puffed out a breath. “Good point. Okay, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Chuckling, his friend started to leave.

“Hey, Mac?”

He stopped and looked back at him.