No Limits

“You want to fend them off?”

“I like my downtime same as any other guy.” Especially with her so near.

“Does that happen everywhere you go?”

The popularity inherent in the sport occasionally made him uncomfortable. This was one of those times. “More so the past year, but yeah, I sometimes get recognized.”

Amusement had her lips twitching. “And you just take it in stride.” Reaching into her purse, she located her phone and lifted it out. “Mind if I take one, too? I’ll add it to my Facebook.”

A good excuse to make his move. “Only if you’re in it with me.” Sliding out of his seat and over to her side of the booth, he deliberately took up space so that they sat touching. He put one arm over her narrow shoulders, keeping her close, and took the phone from her. “My reach is longer.”

Yvette went very still, almost frozen, as he leaned in, near enough to feel the supple curves of her body, the scented warmth she radiated.

Stretching the phone out in front of them, he said, “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Gathering herself, she lifted her lips in a practiced smile, said, “Go,” and then held her breath.

Sexual awareness slowly uncoiled inside him. Her long ponytail teased the skin of his arm, her sweet little body tucked in against his.

It was as if the years had never happened—except that now she was more mature and plenty old enough for his interest.

And yet, something held him back. Maybe her new reserve.

After snapping a few photos, Cannon handed her back her phone—and stayed put. He’d go slow, but he wouldn’t retreat.

He wanted to nuzzle her neck, drink in the light fragrance of her shampoo and the warmer scent of her skin. If she was any other woman, he’d whisper a suggestion or two in her ear. But this was Yvette, and they had a lot to talk about.

“So.”

She concentrated on adding the photo to her Facebook page, along with the location of Rowdy’s bar. “What?”

I want to get you naked. “How come you went to the fight alone?” Leaving his arm around her, Cannon idly let his fingertips tease the warm sleek skin of her shoulder. “Boyfriend isn’t into Mixed Martial Arts?”

After peeking up at him, she said, “If I had a boyfriend, would I be sitting here like this with you?” Satisfied that she’d labeled the picture properly, she tucked her phone away in her purse.

“Why not?” He pressed his thigh to hers. “We’re friends.”

She seemed preoccupied with reading the front of his T-shirt. After a shaky indrawn breath, she looked away. “I don’t have a boyfriend—but if I did, I doubt he’d like me getting so close to you.”

“No boyfriend.” He ran his hand down her ponytail and found her hair every bit as silky as he remembered. Expanding lust made his voice lower and huskier. “California guys are blind?”

“I had been dating, but...” She rearranged her purse, her drink, looked around as if seeking a distraction.

Cannon had a feeling she kept busy just to avoid answering. “But what?”

She folded her hands together on the tabletop. “We split up a little before I bought the ticket.”

For reasons he didn’t want to explore too much, he was glad to know she wasn’t with anyone else. He gave her ponytail a gentle tug. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Things hadn’t been going well anyway, so I’m glad I didn’t waste the experience with him.”

He liked how she put that, as if seeing him fight had been special.

“My best friend wanted to go, but she couldn’t get off work. So I went alone.” She lifted her narrow shoulders. “No big deal.”

“Cheap seats?”

“What?” Confusion brought her gaze back to his.

He’d remembered her eyes as a striking green, but he’d forgotten how it made him feel when she looked right at him. She had that absorbed, heated look a woman got while straining toward an orgasm.

Damn. He blew out a careful breath, determined to get his lust under wraps. “At the venue. How far were you from the action?”

“Oh.” Once again fascinated with the logo on his shirt, she murmured, “Club seats. They weren’t too bad.”

Without even thinking about it, Cannon continued to play with her hair. “I could have gotten you floor seats if you’d let me know.”

“It wouldn’t be right to ask you for a favor like that! And besides, the floor seats didn’t appeal to me.”

“How come?” Most everyone he knew coveted the limited vantage point.

“It looked like they had their own party going on. No one was really watching the fights. The guys were all going back and forth for drinks and the women were all flirting.”

True enough. The ladies often showed up dressed for a club atmosphere and hopeful of hooking up. “I take it you didn’t plan to flirt?”

She shot him a guilty look that he didn’t understand. “I never do.”

“Never, huh?” That’d be a shame. He remembered her as being really good at it. He settled his hand on her shoulder again. “Why stop now?”

“Because it was wrong!” As if she hadn’t meant to say that, she turned her face away. Even in the dim light of the bar, Cannon could see the blush on her cheeks. Seconds ticked by before she spoke again, this time quieter, more composed. “I know I used to be a terrible flirt.”

That was so opposite of what he’d been thinking, he smiled. “Nothing terrible about it.” She’d just gotten out of high school—though at the time he hadn’t realized that she’d fallen behind and was older than most graduates. “Everyone flirts at that age.”

Shaking her head, she denied that. Nervously, she pulled her ponytail over her shoulder so she could play with a lock of hair, winding it repeatedly around two fingers. “I was bad, always eyeing you like I did.”

“Hey.” Squeezing her shoulder, he hugged her a little. “I liked it.”

Her soft lips tweaked to the side. “You did not. You avoided me when you could, and when you couldn’t, you were careful not to be too familiar. I understand why now. But back then...”

Gently, he touched her chin, lifting her face so she met his gaze. “You’re one of the prettiest, sexiest women I’ve ever met. Of course I liked it when you looked at me.” But he’d thought her too young, and he’d been so determined to make it in MMA that, as she’d said, he’d avoided her.

She sounded strained when she whispered, “Thank you.”

Watching her fingers stroke in and around her hair made him think about her fingers on him—teasing him the same way.

He wondered what she was thinking, if her mind had wandered into the same sexual arena as his.

“I don’t want to make excuses.”

“About?”

“How I...came on to you. It’s just that after so many years of uncertainty, I’d finally finished school and was able to get a little independent. Not that I was planning to leave Grandpa.”

“I know.” She’d been very dedicated to Tipton, and vice versa.

Her gaze shifted away. “I loved him so much.”

“He loved you a lot, too.”

Her lips pursed, then curved with banked happiness. “He used to get after me for flirting. He said I was inviting trouble.”

At the time, Cannon had considered her the trouble. “I’d always assumed you were just eighteen.” Later, before leaving, she’d told him she was almost twenty.

As if that embarrassed her all over again, her pleasure faded. “It’s not that I was dumb or that I screwed off in school.”

“I know that.” Because her parents had died when she was thirteen, she’d spent the rest of that school year grieving and got held back. Then for the year after that, different relatives shuffled her around from state to state, no one wanting to keep her.

Until she’d landed with Tipton Sweeny. But again, she’d missed so much schooling....

“I felt dumb,” she admitted. “Most of the kids knew I was older. Especially the boys.”

Cannon could imagine how they’d hit on her. With the way she looked, she’d have been every high school boy’s wet dream.

She tugged at that lock of hair a little more before flipping it back behind her shoulder and putting both hands on the tabletop.

She did that often, catching herself and slipping back behind that mask of poise.

“You were so different,” she said. “I guess that’s why I always felt safe teasing you.”

Safe. An odd word to use. “If it’s any consolation, I had to concentrate real hard to resist you.”

Biting back a laugh, she nudged him. “You are such a fibber.”

“It’s true.” And now, being older, she was even more appealing. And he no longer had to resist.

Maybe gathering her thoughts, she sat silent for a moment. Tipton wanted him to be there for her, to make things easier, so Cannon waited patiently, giving her time—strangely content just to be with her.

When she looked at him this time, she kept her gaze deliberately direct. “After that, I proved what a coward I am.” Loathing sounded in her tone. “That was even worse than the infantile flirting.”

He was here for Tipton, Cannon reminded himself. But Tipton was far from his mind as his fingertips grazed her jaw, his thumb smoothing over her downy cheek. “That’s not true.”

Shying away from his touch, she leaned forward, her forearms on the table, her head dropping. “The rest of you were strong and brave and all I did was fall apart.” Laughing, she covered her face. “God, it still humiliates me to remember it.”

“Listen to me, Yvette.” He cupped his hand around her nape, his voice low, intimate. “You were young and afraid. No one would blame you for that. But you didn’t get hysterical. You didn’t escalate things. So you shed a few tears. So what? Hell, I was shaking I was so pissed off.”

Twisting, she faced him—and in the process she managed to move away a few inches. “You shook with anger, I shook with fear.” For a brief moment, her eyes closed. “I remember that day like it just happened. Those men breaking into the pawnshop, threatening me and hurting Grandpa, abusing that woman...”

“Shh.” Cannon remembered it all in detail, too. If he lived to be one hundred, he would never forget. How much worse must it be for her? “They’ll spend the rest of their lives rotting in prison.”

“Thank God.”

“Yeah.” The cops had been after the sick fucks for a while. They were known for underground porn, forcing women into sexual situations and taping it for their own twisted thrills. They’d used the pawnshop to make one of their videos, gaining Yvette’s and Tipton’s compliance by dousing them in kerosene and threatening to set them on fire. Not because they needed the location, but because that had been part of the thrill for them.

Yvette worried that she’d been a coward; he marveled that she was still able to smile so easily.

“They’ll never hurt anyone else,” she swore softly.

“No.” The two who had survived would die in prison. “They’re gone for good.” Before being caught, they’d twice gone after Yvette, breaking into Tipton’s house with a twofold agenda in mind.

They had wanted to rape Yvette, using her in the porn video.

And they’d wanted to trap the cops who’d been after them.

She clenched her hands on the tabletop. “I want to see the lieutenant while I’m here in Ohio.”

“I’m sure she’d like that.” Cannon remained friends with the lieutenant and the detectives who had intervened that day. It was that friendship that had taken him to Tipton’s house at the same time as the detectives. He’d been a part of it all, experiencing firsthand the helplessness and fear as the thugs repeatedly explained their plans to kill the cops and use Yvette.

Luckily, they’d been outmaneuvered and things had backfired on the bastards in a big way. Cannon had gotten in on that action, too, and the attack had ended with one of them dead and the other two arrested—but not before Yvette had suffered a living nightmare. No, she hadn’t been raped, but she had been groped, threatened, terrorized and forced to watch the torment of others.

What Cannon remembered most about that day was how badly he’d wanted to protect her. He had avoided getting involved with her, but when he’d seen her so defenseless, when he’d felt her stark fear, it had all become very personal for him.

And somehow, through the passing of three long years, it remained personal. His hand curled into a fist.

Leaning into him, Yvette ducked her head and covered his hand with her own. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“We were both thinking about it.” He turned his palm over to twine his fingers with hers. “We haven’t really talked since then. Better to just get it out in the open.” And then hopefully they could put it to rest. He didn’t want the ugliness always between them.

He wanted, eventually, to be more to her than a reminder of a living nightmare.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here.” Carefully, she disengaged from him, straightened, sat properly.

“Here, in Ohio?”

She shook her head. “I assumed you’d be here, at Rowdy’s.” Determination squared her shoulders. “I want you to know that I’m different now. I won’t get in your way. I won’t be a pest.”

Cannon frowned. “I never said—”

“I can take care of everything, so you don’t need to be involved.”

He didn’t understand her. Worse, he didn’t understand himself. “What if I want to be involved?”

That stymied her.

Her lips parted but no words came out. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, and before he could think better of it, he cupped her face in his palm, used his thumb to rub that lush lip.

Her breath came a little faster.

Time to redirect, or he’d be kissing her right here in the booth—and that was something better started in a more private place. “We have a lot to talk about, I know. But you look exhausted. How long have you been in town?”

“I was here for the funeral two weeks ago, but then had to fly back to Cali to take care of some things.”

“That’s a lot of traveling. When did your flight get in?”

“I got here yesterday.” She sat very still until he removed his hand. “But I didn’t fly in this time. I drove.”

No way. “From California?”

“There’s no telling how long it’ll take to get things settled, so I brought a lot of my stuff and my car. It wasn’t a problem. I enjoy driving.”

“And sleeping in hotels?”

“Sometimes.”

No wonder she looked so tired. “How long did it take you?”

“Longer than it should have, but I could only drive so many hours without getting sleepy. I stopped twice to rent a room for the night.” And then with a cheeky grin, she added, “I’m not a hotshot fighter, so no fancy hotels for me.”

He had no idea what she did for a living, who she lived with in California, or if the travel had cut into her budget. But they could cover all that later.

He was about to recommend they call it a night, thinking he could take her to her hotel room and, being noble, make a date to see her in the morning.

She spoke before he could make the suggestion. “You look a little tired yourself. I know you just got back from Japan.”

“I’m sorry I missed the funeral.”

“Grandpa would have understood.” She studied his face.

“Pay no attention to the bruises. They look worse than they are.”

“If you say so.” Her gaze went to his jaw, and then to his chin.

Her intimate inspection almost consumed him before her eyes shifted away.

“The fights seem different on TV. Less violent. I’m really glad I was able to see one live, but I don’t know that I’ll be going again anytime soon.”

“It’s a charged atmosphere,” he agreed. “The music, the lights. Everyone is pretty hyped.”

“I liked all that, actually. And it gave me a good reason to wear my SBC T-shirt.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Don’t let this go to your head, but the T-shirt has you on it.”

He liked it when she relaxed enough to be familiar. “Which shirt?” No matter what she wore, guys would have noticed her. But he liked that she’d worn him.

“The one with you in a fighting stance.”

He remembered the sponsor for that shirt—one of his first. Did that mean she’d been paying attention to his career all along?

“What?” she asked when he couldn’t contain the smile.

“I was just imagining you in the shirt...with me all over your chest.”

Dismissing any real interest on his part, she laughed.

She’d gotten good at deflecting attention, treating it as a joke. “Seriously, I’m flattered.” And, damn it, more than a little turned on, even though she seemed oblivious to it.

“Let me tell you, it wasn’t real flattering when the guy dumped his beer down my back.” Eyes bright, smiling, she leaned in as if to share a secret. “I had to drive home like that. I was so afraid I’d get pulled over for something, and the cop would think I was smashed based on the smell of beer alone.”

The urge to kiss her pulled at him—but she settled back in her seat.

“You didn’t stick around to meet any of the fighters?”

“No. There was such a huge, noisy crowd, and I had a three-hour drive, so it seemed smarter to just go home.”

Several men emerged from playing pool and headed toward them. “Well, you’re about to meet some now.”

She looked up in surprise—and transformed.

CHAPTER THREE

AS CANNON WATCHED, Yvette forced an expression of polite regard, adjusted her posture and smoothed her hair. To make a good impression? With his group of friends, she shouldn’t have bothered. With her looks and bod, she only needed to sit there and they would all swarm to her, talk her up, and if he didn’t set some boundaries, they’d probably hit on her, too.

Standing again, his body blocking her, Cannon asked, “So who won?”

Armie Jacobson, a good friend and partner of sorts who’d taken over the day-to-day running of the rec center Cannon had founded after Cannon had signed on with the SBC, took a dramatic bow. “That’d be yours truly.”

“I should have guessed.” Armie was good at everything he did—which included drawing women. “I think you owe me for bowing out.”

Armie’s dark gaze, a contrast to his very fair hair, jumped to Yvette with appreciation.

And now it begins, Cannon thought.

Moving around Cannon, Armie murmured, “I’d say you’ve been rewarded enough for that.” He extended his hand to Yvette. “Cannon won’t introduce us because I’m better at seduction than he is.”

Cannon snorted, but as Yvette took Armie’s hand, he said, “Yvette Sweeny, meet Armie Jacobson.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jacobson.”

At the formality, Armie’s brow went up. He held her hand gently. “Pleasure’s all mine. You have to drop the mister, though. Just call me Armie—or something more wicked.”

“Wicked?”

“Yeah, like stud, or stallion, or—”

Cannon shoved him. “Stop being an ass.”

The handshake broken, Armie righted himself with a grumble. “Why they call you Saint I’ll never understand.”

“Because I have to be a saint to put up with you.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Armie grinned. “We’ll see you at the rec center tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there.” Cannon pointed back and forth from Armie to himself. “Plan to spar.”

Groaning, Armie grabbed his chest as if wounded and turned to Yvette. “You see, darlin’, that means I’m about to get an old-fashioned ass-whoopin’.”

Yvette laughed at him.

“Not funny!” And then, his voice still too smooth, Armie said, “You should come by and visit us. Pretty the place up a little—and maybe soften old Saint so he’ll go easy on me.”

Her gaze shot over to Cannon’s as if she expected him to protest. But hell, he liked the idea. “Yeah, you should. I can show you around.”

“I was there...once.”

Ignoring all the others, Cannon nodded. “I remember.” It was the night she’d come to tell him goodbye before she’d moved across the country.

The night she’d left him.

Or so it had felt, even though they’d never really been an item.

Because he had dodged her at every turn.

“If it’s been a while,” Armie told her, “it’s different now. Our boy here has brought us a lot of sponsorships.”

Denver used that opening to draw her attention. “Everyone wants a piece of Cannon.”

“Mostly women,” Miles joked, and Stack backed him up on that. A few bawdy jokes followed.

Yvette greeted the comments with indulgence, treating the big rough fighters like unruly schoolboys.

Denver eased closer to her—something Cannon didn’t miss. With one hand on the booth seat behind her shoulder, he beamed down at her. “So you’re into fighters, huh?”

“I enjoy the sport,” she explained with diplomacy. “But Cannon’s the only fighter I know.”

In some ways, Cannon decided, he’d be the only fighter she knew.

Though he surely caught the significance of what she’d said, Denver didn’t retreat. “We need to remedy that.”

“Thank you. I’d enjoy learning more.” She looked to Cannon for introductions.

While chatting her up, the guys had openly flattered her, but she didn’t reciprocate except to be cordial, so Cannon gave in.

He started with Denver, since that bum stood closest to her, and worked his way around to the others. Each one of them assessed her for possibilities, mostly because he never got that involved with women—so usually he didn’t mind. But this was Yvette, and that made a huge difference.

He’d need to set them straight, and soon.

Armie, the dick, watched it all with keen eyes, as if he already understood that Cannon wanted her to himself. Then again, he and Armie knew each other well enough that they rarely had to spell shit out.

Each man showered her with compliments, come-ons and good-natured ribbing. He knew exactly what they were thinking.

Because he was thinking it, too.

Yvette was just too hot. Her eyes were striking, her lush mouth a turn-on. And that soft, restrained laugh...it stroked over him.

Only now she was laughing with other guys—guys who didn’t need much encouragement to horn in.

Without showing a single sign of awareness for their over-the-top flattery, Yvette spoke with each of them.

Denver even took Cannon’s seat beside her. Stack sat across from her. In one way or another, each man angled in close to her until she was surrounded by big, muscled fighters.

Didn’t seem to bother her, though.

Armie, the only one hanging back now, elbowed Cannon. “You’ve been holding out.”

“She’s a friend.” Who would be more soon as he could arrange it.

“No shit? Can I be her friend, too?”

“No.”

Armie laughed.

Folding his arms over his chest, Cannon continued to watch her while schooling Armie. “She’s not your type.”

“Meaning she’s nice instead of nasty?”

“Very nice.” Cannon eyed him. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting a girl later tonight?”

“Yeah.” He checked his watch. “In fact, I’m already late.”

Armie was not known for his consideration toward the fairer sex—except maybe in bed. “Figure she’ll wait?”

He shrugged. “If she doesn’t, she doesn’t.”

There were times when Cannon didn’t understand his friend. More often than not Armie seemed to work at driving “nice” women away.

Speaking loud enough for them all to hear, Cannon said, “Time for you guys to hit the road.”

Stack leaned in toward Yvette. “He means he wants you all to himself.”

“Selfish,” Miles added. “That’s Cannon.”

“At least when it comes to the pretty girls,” Armie explained. “Otherwise, he’s a ‘saint,’ don’t you know.”

As Denver stood, he said, “Right now, I can’t say I blame him.”

The way she gazed up at them from her seat made her eyes look even bigger and more innocent. She lowered her lashes—and they all looked ready to fall at her feet.

Cannon shook his head.

Not understanding just how smitten they all were, Yvette teased, “Are all fighters so outrageous?”

That started another round of jokes, but as they wrapped it up, Armie said with a teasing lilt, “’Bye, Yvette.”