Harlequin Superromance March 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: The Secrets of Her Past\A Real Live Hero\In Her Corner (53 page)

“You're starting to see it, right?” The glow of his smile reflected the stars in her eyes. “If you become the star you were born to be, you could have it all. Retire at thirty-five. Open your own gym. Your own restaurant. Whatever you want.” He leaned toward her. “I want to see you succeed, and I know you will. I can help you move to the next level—won't you let me?”

* * *

“S
O
YOU
SIGNED
with Holbrooke?” Kyle sat back and carefully put down his coffee mug, afraid he might crush it in his hands or throw it at the wall.

Bella nodded. “He got me onto an exhibition card next month with Fury Fights, and he's working on getting me some sponsors.”

“You should have talked to me first.” He rubbed his temples, feeling a brand-new headache coming on. If he'd seen Ryan within ten feet of Bella, he would've...

You'd have what?
His father's voice mocked.
Told him to get away from your girl?

He pressed his palm onto the top of his desk. “I'll be honest with you. Ryan's scooped some of our clients before. I think he gets commission or something for bringing new clients to Star Gyms.”

A look of understanding dawned on Bella's face. “He did try to sell me on switching gyms, but I made it clear that I won't leave Payette's.”

The knot inside him eased a touch.

“Why do you even let him in here if he's stealing clients?” Bella asked.

“Our more serious fighters like that agents poke around here. I can't really ban the guy for searching out new talent.” Of course, that wasn't the only reason he didn't ban Ryan from the gym. Bella had every right to look skeptical about his answer.

The truth was, Kyle didn't like Ryan, and it wasn't only because of his slimy business practices. The man was friends with Karla. And while he'd never said anything to suggest he knew about what had happened, he leered at Kyle whenever they saw each other.

If he banned the agent, who knew what the guy would say?

His irritation ratcheted up. “Tell me something.” Kyle leaned forward. “What did he do to convince you? Fancy dinner? Promises of fame and fortune?”

“You say it as if I'm gullible. I didn't agree to it right away. I went home, did some research and talked to a few people. The guy has some serious fighters on his roster who've all moved on to the UFF.”

“What you probably haven't heard is that he's had more burnouts than superstar successes. Ryan pushes hard, Bella. He's only interested in making money, even if it means making his clients do things they don't want to.”

“You mean steroids?”

“I mean anything.”

Bella shook her head. “I won't do anything I don't want to. I'm not that desperate. I know what's best for me.”

Kyle had seen her kind of cocky conviction before. Usually in overconfident guys who thought they'd be the next Dominic Payette. She might be a Fiore, but he wondered if she knew how far she'd have to go to become a star.

“Look, it's done. Ryan will help me do some marketing and PR stuff. But you're the one who'll make me a good fighter.”

But why Ryan?
he wanted to whine. Not that it was his business. It was her career, after all. But that didn't mean he couldn't warn her.

Bella leaned forward suddenly, her eyes softening. “Look, I know things have been tense between us. I know you don't like Ryan, but he believes in me. I really need that.” She glanced down. “I need
someone
to believe...” She trailed off.

His eyes widened. Suddenly, he got it. She'd signed with Ryan because he supported her in ways Kyle hadn't. Ways her family hadn't. Why else was she here and not at a Fiore gym? Marco Fiore had mentioned something to him about a falling-out. Kyle understood that feeling of desolation when no one had faith in you. The ache spread as he realized his cold attitude hadn't helped. He'd practically pushed her toward Ryan.

“I believe in you,” he blurted. Too little...but maybe not too late. Wry cynicism lurked in her eyes, but there was a spark of hope there, too. He swallowed thickly and leaned closer, trying desperately to infuse his words with sincerity. “I'm here for you, Bella.”

“I really need to believe that, Kyle. You're the one I came here for. I want to bring something new to the cage. Betty Heimer has some major takedown skills, and I don't want to be unprepared. Will you help me? Please?”

He bit down on the inside of his cheek. As wildly infuriating as Bella could be, right now, she was vulnerable and she
needed
him.

He couldn't say no.

* * *

A
FTER
B
ELLA
HAD
finished with one of the fitness classes she taught, a young guy named Joe who'd been training at Payette's for over a year joined them on the mats at Kyle's request. At eighteen, he was a gangly kid who weighed a few pounds more than Bella did. As before, Kyle started from the beginning with basic wrestling stances. It never hurt to check a fighter's habits. It seemed Bella had taken his advice and adjusted her staggered stance. Joe was more sloppy, but he was still new to MMA.

They went through the basic takedowns, and Kyle found Bella's techniques a bit rough. Brazilian jujitsu and wrestling were separate disciplines with different rules and goals, but in MMA, the two were more fluid. He stopped the pair as she pinned Joe to the mats.

“Bella, you're still not cutting the corner fast enough,” he said. “Betty's going to be fighting you off, so you'll have to do this in a snap. Don't give her time to readjust.”

She shot him a look as if to say
duh.

He raised an eyebrow and subbed in for Joe, getting into position.

Bella's lips curved. “Do you want me to fight you off?” she asked wryly.

“You can try.”

Joe took another step back. Kyle said, “Go,” and lunged forward. He snagged her wrist and hooked one hand behind her head, controlling her so she couldn't strike him.

But Bella was strong, and she'd had years of training with the first family of BJJ. She reversed their positions, dropping to her knees with one arm hooked under his thigh.

“That's good,” Kyle said, grappling with her, keeping her close. “Using your height difference as an advantage definitely throws off a bigger opponent. But—” He shot his legs back and dropped his hips. He landed on her, then went for the full mount, straddling her chest. “I'm still bigger and stronger. From here I can get you into a lot of different submission holds.”

“
If
you can hold on,” she gritted. She lifted her hips and rolled and twisted beneath him. He lost his grip and slammed a hand down to stabilize himself. His nose ended up buried in the crook of her neck. The smell of hot-cross buns assailed him.

Before he could regain himself, she'd wrapped her muscular legs around his waist, ankles hooked into the small of his back. She pulled him down on top of her, gaining control despite still being pinned beneath him.

Her face was flushed, and strands of dark, curly hair stuck to her sweaty face. The combination of her piercing green eyes and the way she squeezed him between her thighs sent electricity across his skin. Blood pounded through his temples and made its way south.

“Nice guard,” Joe said.

Kyle startled. He'd practically forgotten about Joe. He tapped out hastily, discreetly adjusting himself as he got up. “In wrestling, your opponent will be fighting against you all the way. The name of the game is domination.”

“Well, I guess it's a good thing the name of
this
game is MMA.” Bella rolled into a sitting position. “That would've been a perfectly legal move.”

He couldn't fault her for that. And he had to admit he was impressed. “Let's refocus on your takedown. Do the double-leg again. Joe, stand in for me.”

The hour slipped by quickly as they ran through the exercise several times. He realized too late, though, that having the amateur spar with Bella had been a bad decision. The kid's technique was sloppy, and didn't provide a real challenge for Bella. Kyle itched to replace Joe, but getting that close to her again was a bad idea. He was still shaking off the tingles running figure eights through his groin. He'd
felt
her, and whatever went through him made him wholly aware that she was an attractive woman.

Apparently, he wasn't the consummate professional he thought he was.

CHAPTER SIX

“S
O
WHAT
'
D
I
do wrong?”

Kyle glanced up from his paperwork and frowned. After yesterday's session with Joe, it was clear to Bella she'd messed up somehow. The moment she'd established her guard, Kyle's eyes had clouded as something like anger flashed through them. After the lesson, he'd become distant and hidden in his office the rest of the day. And he'd hardly said hello to her today. “Does
anyone
around here remember how to knock?” he grumbled.

“I was thinking over the drills yesterday. I did something wrong, didn't I?” She stepped farther into his office and gripped the back of the visitor's chair.

His gaze remained fixed on her, but she detected a slight twitch in his jaw. “You did fine. You just need practice.”

“But—”

“You did fine.” He sent her a half smile that did crazy things to her insides. “I know you're eager to do more, and I think that's great. Just keep conditioning. Joe'll be in later. We'll train then.”

Bella left unsatisfied. She was used to getting a lot more feedback, but she reminded herself yet again that this was Payette's, not her family studio.

As the days went on, Kyle concentrated mainly on her takedowns and getting her opponent on the ground. There was a definite pattern to his coaching style, and it only got more intense as she drilled. His shouted instructions rang in her ears as she lay in bed, his demands that she move faster, watch her form and keep her guard up made her muscles twitch just as she thought she was drifting off to sleep. He was bent on perfection. And while she appreciated his tenacity, it made training tedious.

She kept her mouth shut, though. She wasn't about to jeopardize their tentative truce. This was what she'd come to New Orleans for, after all. Every day they worked together, she got another “fine.” Maybe it was all he was willing to give.

At least her time as a trainer at Payette's was proving successful. She'd made the classes she was teaching more challenging, and the students appreciated being pushed harder. Her reputation as fair, fun but hard-assed circulated, and a few of the bodybuilders who regularly pumped iron at Payette's joined the classes. Kyle had been impressed and had rewarded her with a recruitment bonus.

On Wednesday evenings, the students from the Touchstone youth center came for their weekly lesson. Shawnese had slowly warmed to Bella. She no longer glared as if everyone was out to get her and even worked with her fellow classmates without hesitation. Reta was ecstatic about how much she'd opened up since she'd started the self-defense class.

It was the first week in November when Ryan showed up with a square-chinned, redheaded woman wearing an ill-cut burgundy pantsuit. She smiled broadly as she introduced herself. “Quinn Bourdain,
Las Vegas Sun News.
Ryan's told me a lot about you, Ms. Fiore. I'm looking forward to interviewing you.”

Bella kept her smile fixed, but she snagged her manager's arm in a tight grip. “Um, Ryan, can I talk to you a minute?” She pulled him aside. Kyle hadn't arrived yet, and she had no idea how he'd react to seeing him there. “What's going on?”

“I told you, this class for at-risk youth is PR gold. I invited Quinn here all the way from Vegas. She owes me a favor. She's going to do a feature on you and this class you're teaching.”

“I'm not teaching this class. Kyle is. Anyway, I don't think it's such a good idea. These kids haven't given their permission.”

“We're not filming them, and we don't need their consent to observe. Anyhow, the article will be about you more than them. You know, local girl does good and breaks faces, too. That kind of stuff.”

She shook her head. “I'm not local. And I'm not sure Kyle will approve.”

“Approve of what?” Kyle asked as he walked into the gym. His entrance reminded Bella of a shark gliding through the water, deceptively innocuous and full of bloody intent. He looked down his nose. “Ryan.” The frost in his greeting crystalized in the air between them.

Ryan smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. “Just the man I wanted to see. Have you met Ms. Bourdain?” He explained the reason for Quinn's presence. Kyle took it in, lips pursed.

“I don't know...” he began.

“C'mon, Kyle. It'd be good publicity for Payette's, not to mention Bella. You want to make sure you associate the gym with the future women's champ, don't you?” He clamped his hands over Bella's shoulders, his thick fingers digging into her flesh. Ryan jerked his chin at the gathering of young people. “It'll be good for them, too.”

Kyle's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Ask Reta first. She's the best judge of what's good for these kids. Some of them might not appreciate being talked about.”

“Quinn's a top-notch journalist,” Ryan said dismissively. “She'd never exploit someone for a story. No one who isn't asking for it, anyhow.”

So Kyle grudgingly explained the situation to Reta, who had no problem with the reporter's presence. Neither did the students—they seemed excited by the idea of being in the newspaper. Kyle started the class, and the students were extra attentive. To everyone's surprise, Quinn changed into a T-shirt and trunks, took notes and snapped some pictures, before joining the class, too.

Ryan left twenty minutes into the lesson. Apparently he had better things to do than sit around and watch a client spar with a bunch of kids. Admittedly, Bella breathed a little easier without the tension stretching between her agent and her trainer. She might have been a pugilist by trade, but she'd always hated emotional cold wars.

As the class wrapped up and the kids went to get changed, Shawnese hung back. “Miss Bella, can I talk to you?”

“What's up, Shawnese?”

She gripped her bony elbows and glanced around nervously. “I was wondering...” Her voice dropped. “Can you teach me how to stop a guy with a knife?”

Bella sucked in her cheeks. “Um...I can. But it's not easy. The best way to get out—”

“Is to run away, yeah, so you guys keep saying. But sometimes you can't, and I don't want to turn my back on a knife, you know?”

She scratched her hip, a little unsure of how to handle this. “Listen, knife fighting and evading knife attacks is really advanced. It's not like the movies. I can't teach you everything, and you know what they say about a little knowledge.”

“I'm not trying to be Superman. Just teach me what you can.” Her voice quavered. She looked almost ready to bolt. Bella had a feeling that even if she asked, Shawnese would run away rather than explain herself. Bella couldn't deny her request.

She gave the girl a quick demonstration, using the lessons the students had already learned in class. The young woman took it all in calmly, following along as best as she could. She was by no means weak or small, but against a knife, all opponents, no matter how skilled, were at a disadvantage.

“Shawnese, what are you doing?” Reta called from the doorway. “The bus is leaving soon. You should get changed.”

Shawnese waved her fingers at her as she left, smiling weakly. Unease rolled through Bella's stomach.

“A little extra tutoring?” Quinn sidled up next to her, hefting her bag.

“She's a special case.”

“Special how?”

Bella hesitated. She wasn't about to share Shawnese's story with the reporter. “She just wanted a few tips.”

“Well, forearmed is forewarned.”

“I think it's the other way around.”

“Depends which side of the hurting you're on,” Quinn replied grimly.

Bella gave a wry smile. Maybe she should say something to Reta. She'd know how to handle Shawnese's situation
if
there was one. Plus, it wasn't really her business. She didn't want to put her nose where it didn't belong and risk losing the young woman's trust. She'd talk with Reta later.

Bella and Quinn went to The Spot for dinner where they conducted the one-on-one interview. They sat at the bar and ate. Quinn asked questions about Bella's background, her dreams and her current training. Bella did her best to answer them, but when it came to explaining her current relationship with the rest of the Fiore family, she glossed over a few details. Frustrated though she was with the way they'd treated her, she didn't want to hurt Fulvio or the others.

“So how's your relationship with Kyle Peters?” Quinn asked.

Bella nearly sucked her water down the wrong pipe. “I'm sorry?”

“Kyle. He has a reputation as a harsh taskmaster. Gets it from his father, David Peters. Has he treated you differently?”

She shifted her bottom on the suddenly too hot seat of the bar stool. “He's been...” She tried to force out a lie. Telling a reporter she didn't feel she was getting the best performance out of Kyle would not make him or Payette's look good. “He's been very good. I've learned a lot from him.”

Quinn watched her carefully and turned the recorder off. “Okay, totally off-the-record. How's your relationship with Kyle,
really?
”

When Bella didn't answer her right away, Quinn pressed on. “I'm not trying to write a gossip piece or anything. That's not my style. You look like you want to say something but you're afraid of the repercussions. I'm asking as a human being, now.” She lowered her voice. “Has he been inappropriate toward you?”

She blinked rapidly. “What? No. Why would you say that?”

Quinn fidgeted with the straw. “Rumors. He's got a reputation when it comes to women, you know.” She paused, likely waiting for Bella to respond or ask for more details. When she did neither, Quinn shrugged. “They're probably nothing. Forget I even said anything.”

* * *

T
WO
WEEKS
LATER
, Kyle was forced to admit that Ryan knew what he was doing with Bella's career. Quinn Bourdain's flattering article was syndicated in the
Times-Picayune
and had helped generate a lot of cold calls to the gym. People were interested in signing up for memberships and in supporting the gym's good works with the community. And within three days of the article, he'd added a women's self-defense class to the schedule.

Word about Payette's was spreading.

At the health and wellness fair, which took place at a plaza mall on the northeast end of town, Bella drew a hefty crowd, signing photos and copies of Quinn's article at the Payette's booth. She helped with demonstrations and sparred with various members of the gym. Her looks and skills combined seemed to have converted quite a few eager young men to the sport of MMA, and a few ladies, too. They signed up a record number of new members that day.

This was how it was supposed to be, Kyle thought with a broad smile. Fun. That was something coaching and running a gym used to be before he had to worry about membership dues and customer service and budgets and getting flyers printed and circulated around the city.

He remembered the day Dominic had asked him to manage the place. It'd only been a few weeks after Dom had won the belt. Kyle couldn't have been more honored and excited. The opportunity to run his own gym, even if it was owned by the UFF, had always been a dream of his. A chance to show everyone he was a winner beyond the podium.

He watched as Bella smilingly handed another on-the-spot sign-up over to Tito. Bella's presence had boosted revenue
and
morale. The guys laughed and joked with each other more. The clients were sticking around. And no one had complained about Bella in the least. He'd been wrong to think she'd cause any trouble.

The only drawback was Ryan's continued presence at the gym. He hung around Bella an awful lot for a guy who claimed he was a busy, important man with numerous clients. He'd even rolled up his expensive shirtsleeves and trained with her once or twice. The guy knew what he was doing, so Kyle couldn't boot him—though he could have called him on his lack of proper gym attire.

You sure you're not jealous?
The thought echoed through his mind in his father's voice. Dad had goaded him frequently in order to incite a reaction, make him lose focus and catch him off guard while training. David Peters had believed the constant barrage of criticism and digs built character and forced Kyle to suppress emotions that would otherwise upset his game. As far as Kyle could tell, all it had done was give him a permanent complex.

I'm not jealous,
he told himself firmly.
I'm concerned about Bella.

After all, she needed someone to look after her in place of her father, grandfather and brothers. Maybe that was stupidly old-fashioned, but he didn't like to think of any woman on her own in a strange place. She needed a guiding hand. It didn't have to be his, but he'd rather it not be Ryan's.

“So tell me something, Coach,” Bella said as she helped disassemble the booth at the end of the day. “How is it that you're not signing autographs or getting on the mats for these things? I mean, you're the one with three gold medals.”

His smile was stiff. “That was a long time ago.”

“Not that long. You stopped competing...what, seven years ago?”

“The leg still gives me trouble sometimes,” he said. “I try not to aggravate it.”

“It was the knee, right?” She studied him carefully, probably saw that he had no difficulty lifting the folding table or squatting for boxes. “Must've been pretty bad.”

“I had to go in for a few surgeries, so, yeah.” He didn't want to talk about it.

“If you're interested, I know some exercises you could do to strengthen your knee. Marco hurt his knee a while back, too. It took a lot of rehab, but he's walking on it fine now.”

“The problem isn't walking.” Kyle snapped, and immediately regretted it. Bella was only trying to help him. He had no reason to bite her head off. “I'm past my prime now, is all. Wrestling or performing for anyone else...that's not my deal anymore.” And neither was pleasing anyone else. “Thanks for the offer, though.”