No Limits

For her.

Through a mist of tears she took in the remodel. God, she missed him so much already.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, ignoring the murky unease making a slow crawl up her spine, she went through the living room to the dining room and around to the kitchen. Familiar appliances filled the walls, but cheery new wallpaper and bright scatter rugs transformed even this room.

Flipping on lights as she went, she explored the house and all the changes. Although everything seemed different, the empty house still held the scent of her grandfather’s Old Spice aftershave.

Just as it held the memory of Cannon’s kiss.

Even while weepy from her loss, a tidal wave of warmth invaded her limbs whenever she thought of him. She again felt his protective touch, remembered the hot taste of his kiss. She’d built some elaborate fantasies around that brief moment in time. But now she wasn’t sure if even Cannon could make a difference to her wounded psyche. Knowing that wouldn’t stop her from wanting him, and that scared her more than anything else could.

Shame quickly followed, because she’d just lost her beloved grandpa, the one relative who hadn’t given up on her, who’d taken her in after her parents’ deaths and made her world better. She had to keep him and his wishes uppermost in her mind.

When she saw her room, fresh tears welled up. New bedding and drapes made it look different, but all of her more personal belongings were just as she’d left them. She touched a hair ribbon on the dresser, an ancient carnival doll he’d won for her.

Slowly, she sat on the edge of the bed.

Cannon had missed the meeting at the lawyer’s office.

For over three long years she’d honed her fixation on him, using it to help her get through trying times, using the example of him to hopefully become a better person. He was everything she wasn’t, everything a good person should be. Generous, protective and caring. He had an athlete’s body, a fighter’s strength and an angel’s heart—all wrapped up in gorgeous good looks. Every girl in the neighborhood had wanted him.

After months of ignoring her childish flirting, he’d come to her rescue when she’d needed him most. And afterward, he’d felt pity for the pathetic girl she’d been.

He’d finally seen her—but as a victim.

Well, she was stronger now, and she’d prove it, to him and herself.

She watched every SBC fight, soaked up every mention of him on the internet and in numerous interviews. To the general public Cannon had been dubbed “the Saint,” in part due to his philanthropic attitude and always calm demeanor. Nothing and no one ever rocked his foundation of composure.

Insiders, however, claimed the nickname had more to do with his gentle treatment of women. He stayed too busy to engage in long-term romantic relationships. While he kept things brief, most of the ladies he knew became his friends without resentment, having nothing but good things to say about him.

Yvette could attest to his gentle concern and careful consideration. Difficult as she knew it’d be for her, she hoped he still claimed her as a friend, too.

It was necessary to see him, the sooner the better. But first... She’d learned that expending energy helped her to overcome her reservations. Before facing Cannon, she’d do what she could to shake off her nervousness and the uneasiness of being back in Ohio.

With that goal in mind, she emptied her suitcases and, doing her best to block the foul memories of what had happened in this very house, prepared for a night out.

Cannon would no doubt go to Rowdy’s bar, where he used to work. She’d find him there, and she’d show him that she wasn’t a frightened little girl anymore. She wasn’t pathetic. And she wouldn’t fawn over him. She’d convince him that she was a different person now.

And then maybe she’d be able to convince herself, too.

* * *

THE SECOND CANNON got his signature on all the papers, the lawyer stood and grabbed up an overflowing briefcase. “I’m sorry, but I’m running late for court. I hope you understand.”

“Sure.” He had no reason to hang around for small talk, especially when he had so much to think about.

“Tipton was a good man.” Friendly, sincere, Whitaker shook his hand. “If you need anything more, anything at all, please call Mindi and she can put you through.”

“Thanks.” With everything now in a big padded envelope, Cannon followed him to the door.

Before he could head out with the lawyer, Mindi reappeared. “You’re not rushing off, are you?”

That Whitaker took note, and then ignored his assistant to continue on his way, left Cannon wondering even more about their relationship.

Her body language, the way she looked at him and her tilt of her lips all invited him to stay. But if she and the lawyer were involved...yeah, he had no interest in getting mired in that sinkhole.

“Sorry. I have a dozen things to do yet today.”

Pretending to pout, she came closer. “But we have the office to ourselves.” Deliberately crowding his space, she reached around him and turned the lock on the front door. “Did I tell you that I’m a huge fan?”

Her breasts brushed against his chest; he could feel her breath on his throat. “Appreciate that. Thanks.” He kept his hands at his sides and tried not to breathe too deeply of her perfume. “Maybe another time, though.”

She teased a fingertip up and down her cleavage, and, damn it, he looked.

Encouraged, she moved that teasing finger to his chest, up and over his collarbone to twine an arm around his neck.

Temptation pulled at him. He glanced back and saw no one outside the office. After reading Tipton’s letter, he felt strung so tight that release would be welcome.

“He won’t be back,” Mindi said. Boldly she leaned into him...and stroked his crotch. “Don’t worry about him.”

God, he needed the distraction. And his body liked her touch well enough.

But his head wasn’t in it.

He got the definite vibe that she and the lawyer had a thing. Plus he figured Yvette would have dealt with Mindi, too, might even have to deal with her again. He would never do anything to make this new transition harder on her than it’d already be.

And then there was the fact that he hoped to finally have Yvette... Yeah, to his brain, cozying up with Mindi seemed like a very bad idea. “Sorry, honey, but I’m just not up for it.”

“Fibber,” Mindi whispered. Her eyes grew heavy, her breathing shallower as she stroked him. “You are most definitely up.”

Her twist of his words only marginally amused him. “Let’s just say parts of me have no sense.” Especially with her small hand expertly working him. “But the rest of me is shot, I swear.” The rest of me, he admitted to himself, wants Yvette, and only Yvette.

She pressed her lower body against his thigh. “I’d only need ten minutes.”

“Ah, now what fun would that be?” Gently, because he hated to insult any woman, Cannon tried to ease her back. “I’m sure you deserve more than ten minutes.”

“Later,” she whispered while nuzzling his neck, “when you have more time, you can make it up to me.”

Her sharp little teeth grazed his throat. Damn it, he was started to feel molested. “Listen—”

She opened her mouth on him and Cannon knew he had to get control of things before she added a hickey to his other many bruises. Catching her shoulders, he physically moved her away, saying with firm insistence, “Not today.”

Hurt overshadowed her lust, and she turned away from him. Hands to her face, she gave a nervous laugh. “Wow, this is embarrassing.”

Even annoyed, Cannon sympathized with her. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m flattered.”

She shook her head. “And not at all interested.”

Stepping up behind her, he cupped her shoulders. “You had your hands on me, so you know that’s not true.” She’d felt his semierection. His dick liked her just fine. “But my last fight took it out of me, I just got into town and now I have a load of legal responsibilities to take care of.”

“That’s all it is?” She looked at him with hope. “Seriously?”

Not about to commit himself, he shrugged. “All I know is that it’s not happening now.” Ready to make his getaway, he turned and unlocked the door. He got as far as his truck when she called to him.

Looking back, he saw her poised in the doorway.

“I’ll take a rain check then, give you some time to get settled, but I’m not giving up.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her. Since he doubted they ran in the same circles, he wasn’t worried about seeing her again. With a salute, he got behind the wheel, started the engine and drove away from the building.

No matter how many times it happened, it was still a nice thing to be wanted. Didn’t matter that part of the appeal was his status in the SBC.

One thought led to another, and he had to wonder, would Yvette be as impressed? Even before he’d been picked up by the elite fight organization, she’d looked at him with idol worship, as if he had the answer to every question.

But that was years ago. For all he knew she could be engaged, even married now. He pictured her as he remembered her: young and innocent. Just coming into her own. Shapely and sweet.

Ripe.

Unsettled with conflicting emotions, Cannon drove by Tipton’s house, but when he knocked, no one answered. He had a key, but it didn’t seem right to go in before talking to Yvette. He went by the pawnshop next, but it remained locked up, dark and empty. Like him, Yvette had probably found a motel room.

He’d track her down soon enough, and then they could get reacquainted all over again.

Damn, but he could hardly wait.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE’D BEEN GONE for hours. After making a very brief stop at the pawnshop, disappointed to see the shape it was in, Yvette had shopped for basic groceries she knew she’d need. After that, she’d bought a few new security devices, preparing the best she could for her stay at the house.

Anxiety still churned inside her, but it didn’t matter. She had outgrown that embarrassingly timid girl who’d allowed herself to be a sniveling victim.

Never again.

She concentrated on presenting herself as a proper, poised woman, using that facade to hide the truth. So many dreams had died, but no one else needed to know that.

Preparing to see Cannon, she made herself as polished as possible and then set off.

Because of the mid-August heat wave, she wore a white tank top with her skinny jeans and sandals. She’d pulled her freshly washed hair in a high ponytail that hung down between her shoulder blades.

On the walkway outside Rowdy’s bar, she hesitated. Judging by the noise alone, the place was packed. Being in such a crowded atmosphere would help keep her attraction under wraps. She had to see him, but she wanted to do it without embarrassing herself in any way.

A trio of men stepped out, gave her double takes and leered. She heard “Well, hello,” and “Hot damn,” along with a low whistle from the third guy.

Yvette made a point of not encouraging that sort of thing—really any sort of thing—with men, so she merely nodded and stepped inside. The place looked exactly as she remembered it, with people laughing, a small crowd dancing to the jukebox, every stool lining the bar taken up with a body.

More men checked her out and, wondering if she looked as out of place as she felt, she smoothed her palms over her thighs. Only on very rare occasions had she ever visited bars. Rowdy’s bar was different than most, friendlier, a part of the community she still loved and missed, but it left her self-conscious all the same.

Rowdy himself worked the bar tonight, and when she saw a flash of red hair, Yvette knew he had his wife by his side. She heard him laugh about something his wife said and she smiled with them.

Cannon used to work here, right up until his fighting career took off. She knew that whenever he came to the area, he stopped in to visit, so she hoped to find him here tonight. And if not, then surely someone could tell her where he’d be.

Before people started to wonder if she’d gotten lost, she began searching the room, making her way past the front tables, the dance floor—and finally she found Cannon back by the pool tables in the company of men and women alike.

As if her senses had been starved for him, a dozen emotions made her muscles weak. He looked even better than she remembered. In an otherwise dim room, fluorescent lamps over the pool table added blue highlights to his dark, unruly hair, still a little too long, curling on the ends. As he bent to take a shot, his T-shirt stretched over those impossibly wide and strong shoulders. Muscles flexed, making her stomach flutter in an expected way.

That particular reaction to Cannon was nothing new.

A woman was draped over him, whispering in his ear, and he grinned, his blue eyes bright. The lady kissed his jaw and stepped back.

Taking the shot, Cannon sank three pool balls.

Yvette had never learned to play pool, but given how the others reacted, that must’ve been a good shot.

Laughing, two of Cannon’s male friends handed over bills and the women lined up for hugs. Part of the bet, maybe?

Or just because they all wanted an excuse to touch him? She’d bet on the latter.

Watching it all, Yvette noted the five-o’clock shadow and a few colorful bruises that darkened his handsome face. He’d always had a lean, strong build, but now he was positively shredded, his muscles bulkier and more defined, not an ounce of extra weight on his large frame.

Thinking of the number of fights he’d had in such a short time, she smiled. It was a running joke in the SBC that if a fight became available, if another fighter got sick or injured and had to drop out, Cannon was always there, ready to jump in. Drew Black, the owner of the SBC, loved it—especially since, so far, Cannon always won.

He’d had a few close calls, but every time he managed to pull it off. That last bout... It still amazed her how he’d finished the fight before it finished him.

Shifting inside the doorway and taking up an unoccupied spot against the shadowy wall, she studied him for a while, content to refamiliarize herself with how he moved and how his lips formed that particular cocky smile. Not that she’d ever really forgotten. He drew people like flies to honey, and occupied the entire room with his presence.

Thinking of the antics her grandfather had pulled, her brows twitched together. Cannon already had so much on his plate. He was out of town more than in, and he traveled all over the world.

He had to be wondering how he’d find the time to take on even more. Shortly, Yvette would relieve his mind. She knew her grandfather had always felt seriously indebted to Cannon. But this was not the way to repay him. As a fan favorite in the sport, he made a considerable amount of money with each fight. Endorsements were lining up for his approval. He’d been in a few commercials, done some commentating. He didn’t need her grandfather’s meager inheritance.

He’d earned it, she would never dispute that, but he shouldn’t have to maneuver through the quagmire of responsibilities her grandfather had unloaded on him.

Though she wished it could be otherwise, she’d stay around only long enough to sell both properties, give Cannon his share and then move on.

But before she did that, she wanted him to know that she would no longer chase after him like a lost puppy begging for affection—especially when she couldn’t do anything about it even if she got his attention.

Which she knew she wouldn’t. Other than that one sympathy-inspired moment after the threat had been removed, he’d made his disinterest well-known.

Little by little, Cannon cleared the table. With only the cue ball and two others remaining, he chalked his stick, walked around for a better position, bent for a shot—and froze when his attention zeroed in on her body.

Yvette held her breath, especially when that electric blue gaze deliberately tracked up in minute detail, from her thighs to her stomach, her breasts—and finally her face.

Their gazes locked.

Her heartbeat rocked into overtime when, with an arrested expression, he slowly straightened to his impressive height. No smile, just those intense blue eyes consuming her.

Breathless from his potent stare, Yvette lifted a hand to wiggle her fingers in a small wave.

Suddenly he went into motion. Saying something to the guy next to him, Cannon handed him the pool stick. The other men—some of them fighters by the looks of them—jokingly protested. One of the women, smiling too widely, grabbed his arm with playful arguments.

After a whisper in her ear and a kiss to her cheek, Cannon disengaged from her. He pulled a roll of bills out of his pocket, tossed them on the table to appease everyone and walked away.

Knowing she’d caused a scene, heat rushed into Yvette’s face. She could feel everyone staring at her now; in order to cope, she kept her gaze only on Cannon. Breathing harder, she tracked his stride around the tables, around human bottlenecks and displaced chairs on a path to reach her.

God, she thought she’d remembered, but the powerful way he affected her felt entirely new. She bit her bottom lip hard, fighting the urge to flee—or launch herself at him.

And suddenly it was too late to do either. Cannon reached her, still saying nothing as his attention moved over her again, this time with more familiarity. The reality of him was so much better than the memory—his height, how his wide shoulders blocked out the view of the rest of the room...sometimes the rest of the world.

She saw how deepened breathing swelled his chest, the loose-limbed way he held his long muscular arms, the intent way he watched her.

Being this near to him wrecked her poise. The silence made her more jittery still, so she licked her lips and whispered, “Cannon...”

One corner of his mouth curled as he touched her cheek, smoothed his fingertips along her jaw. Then, as if it happened all the time, he drew her into his chest and hugged her right off her feet.

* * *

HE COULDN’T STOP looking at her. Damn, he’d remembered her as pretty, but she’d matured into killer good looks—and didn’t seem to know it. An angel’s face paired with that trim but curvy figure, and yeah, he was pretty sure every guy in the place had already started fantasizing.

Too bad, because none of them would touch her.

If he’d had any doubts about wanting her, they were put to rest in a big way. Instead of three years, it felt like a decade he’d been waiting on her. Yes, he wanted her. He would have her, too.

The only question was how soon.

A few weeks ago she’d lost her grandfather, and she probably needed time to acclimate to being home around the unpleasant memories. He’d love to segue right from hello to hell, yeah, but he also enjoyed just looking at her and talking with her.

Sipping her Coke, Yvette stole a peek at him. Feathery lashes framed those big green eyes he remembered so well—eyes that used to watch him with innocent infatuation, but now seemed wary. She sat straight, proper. Spoke carefully. Avoided his direct gaze.

As Tipton had said, she was guarded.

She wore makeup, but not a lot. Even in a ponytail, her long dark hair made him think of it spilled loose on his pillows, or gliding over his chest.

Or his thighs.

And her clothes, while casual, covered such a sweet body it left him visually undressing her.

Repeatedly.

Knowing he had to get a grip, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. “But please go ahead and eat if you want.”

“I’m good.” Arms folded on the top of the booth, he smiled. “I can’t get over how much you’ve changed.”

That pleased her, he could tell. “It’s been almost three and a half years.”

Long enough for her to put the past behind her? To put him behind her? No, he wouldn’t let her. “I’m so damn sorry about Tipton.”

“Thank you.” She set the drink aside, then nervously drew her finger through the damp ring the glass had left on the booth top. “I wanted to talk to you about that. About—”

“Hey, Saint.” Two guys sidled up to the table. “Can we get a pic?”

Cannon forced his gaze away from Yvette. “Sure.” He would never alienate a fan, but damn, the timing could be better. Yvette had been screwing up her courage to say something. Now he had to wonder what.

Stepping out of the booth, he bent a little to put himself more in line with the shorter guys, and with a double thumbs-up, smiled as a plump lady used her cell phone to snap a few photos.

That only seemed to unleash other fans, and before he knew it, he was posing with men and women alike. Some wanted to hug him, some wanted him in a fighter’s stance, a few just wanted him to mug for the camera. Before he could get a handle on things, he’d taken around twenty photos and signed more than a dozen autographs.

Yvette watched it all with a look of fascinated indulgence. When there seemed to be a lull, he reseated himself. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re popular, I understand.” Her long glossy ponytail spilled over her shoulder when she tipped her head to study him. “I watch the fights.”

That pleased him more than it should have. “Yeah? What do you think?”

“You’re pretty amazing.”

He held back his grin. “I do my best.”

That earned a short laugh. “Humble, too.” Shaking her head, she teased, “No wonder they call you the Saint.”

He’d rarely heard her laugh before, and hearing it now did funny things to him. It was nice. Rich. Husky.

A turn-on.

“It’s a dumb fight name, but I don’t have much say in it.”

“Would you rather something else?”

Sure he would, but admitting it would sound juvenile. “Doesn’t matter. What they call me isn’t as important as whether or not they remember me.”

“Being memorable is accomplished by putting on a good fight. And you always do.” She leaned in a little, teasing him. “That’s not just my biased opinion either. I’ve heard the same from the commentators, read it in articles and heard other fans say it.”

“Yeah? When was this?” Had she attended a fight?

“I live in Cali. Last year you were only three hours away, so I made the trip.”

“Only three hours, huh?” Damn it, why hadn’t she told him? “I got a knockout in the first round of that fight.”

“Everyone was on their feet screaming. Pretty exciting.” She grinned. “A guy behind me spilled his beer down my back.”

Cannon winced. “Idiot.”

“I forgave him since he was cheering for you.”

In his experience, most women who attended live fights either came on the make, or with a boyfriend. He didn’t like either possibility for Yvette. “So who went to the fight with you?”

She shook her head. “Just me.”

She’d gone alone? For some reason, that broke his heart. “What fun is that?”

A dimple appeared in her right cheek. “You got a first-round knockout. Believe me, it was fun.”

“I wish you’d told me you were there.” He’d thought about trying to look her up, but California wasn’t a small state, and there’d been so much to do prefight.

Besides, she’d been the one who’d walked away....

As if she’d read his thoughts, she straightened, her shoulders back. “I couldn’t be that bold. You were busy. It wouldn’t have been right to bother you.”

He didn’t want her so uptight with him. Once, long ago, she hadn’t been. “It would’ve been nice to see you.” But carving more than a few minutes out of his jammed schedule would have been dicey.

A flash went off behind them, and Yvette turned to see a woman taking another picture. Unlike with other women, the intrusion didn’t seem to annoy her, and the attention didn’t seem to excite her.

Remaining poised, she said, “Maybe I should get going. There are a lot of people hoping for your time.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” No way did he want things to end so quickly. “It’s easier for me to fend them off if you stay.”