Fighting Love (Love to the Extreme) Page 10

  “Have fun,” he said, his voice clipped.

  Julie lowered her lashes, pursing her lips in a seductive manner. “Oh, I plan to.” As she slipped the palm of one hand through Brody’s elbow, she waggled her fingers on the other at Tommy and forced a giggle. “Good-bye, Tommy.”

  And somehow she had to find a way to make that farewell stick. For good.

  …

  Julie sat beside Brody on a white folding chair inside the Great Hall of the Callenwolde Fine Arts Center. Candlelight flickered around the inside of the Gothic-Tudor-style mansion, creating the ideal romantic ambiance for a wedding.

  When the bridal march pealed into the room, Julie stood and pivoted toward the grand staircase at the back of the room. Cait came into view at the top of the landing in front of the wall-length stained-glass window, dressed in a strapless, sweetheart, pick-up white ball gown, her veil covering her face and red hair. As she took her father’s elbow and slowly descended the staircase, the bride looked elegant and completely in love.

  Envy shot through Julie and her gaze locked on the man standing three rows behind her, also on his feet, his blond head turned toward the back like everyone else’s. She forced her attention back to the bride. Tears stung Julie’s eyes as Cait made her way down the rose-petal-strewn white runner toward the man she loved.

  As the bride stopped in front of the groom, Julie took Brody’s hand and squeezed as she watched Dante’s reaction. He looked handsome as always, his black tuxedo encasing his powerful body. His brown hair was freshly trimmed and his cheeks cleanly shaven. But it was his blue eyes, rimmed with tears, locked on Cait as she took her place by his side, that made Julie’s chest hurt.

  What would it be like to be loved like that?

  To feel complete confidence that the man beside you loved you as much as you loved him?

  She wanted that so badly. Not a one-sided love, but a complete love. A true partner in life.

  She glanced at Brody. If she gave him half a chance, could it be him?

  Possibly. But like it or not, Tommy stood in her way. He’d seemed always to stand in her way when it came to finding that type of love.

  So as Dante and Cait vowed to love each other until death do they part, Julie made a vow to herself.

  She would have a wonderful loving husband who cherished her and amazing children to warm her heart.

  And Tommy Sparks would be the one who gave her away on her wedding day, and the man her children called uncle. Just the way it was always supposed to be.

  From this moment on, she would put away her foolish notions and accept that he didn’t love her, and that he never would.

  …

  Tommy sipped a glass of wine as he scanned the enclosed courtyard. The dim lighting made the bright blue holograph that read Dante and Caitlyn stand out on the herringbone-patterned brick dance floor, where round tables covered in white tablecloths and simple daisy centerpieces surrounded the perimeter.

  Dinner was over. Though Tommy couldn’t have told anyone what he’d eaten, having been too busy scowling at Julie, who had clung to Brody through the entire meal, laughing at his stupid jokes, smiling up at the man like he hung the moon.

  Tommy should have kissed her when he had the chance. But he’d known Brody would show at any moment. When he kissed Julie again, he was really going to kiss her—a deep, thorough kiss of discovery that he could lose himself in. Not one that would have been interrupted by that asshole ringing the goddamn doorbell.

  After tonight, Brody wouldn’t be interrupting anything ever again. She wouldn’t be seeing him again.

  It’d taken a damn week for Julie to finally come to him—one of the more frustrating decisions he’d made, trying to prove to himself that he wouldn’t treat her like other women. He wanted to let her take the lead, do things at her own speed, and if she wanted some space, then he was going to give it to her, whether he liked it or not. He’d also thought some time apart would help him get better control over his raging lust for her. Yeah. Wrong. As soon as she’d come out of the house last night, he’d wanted to pounce. Which had presented the perfect opportunity for him to prove once again that he could control himself around her.

  Which he had. Barely. But the important point was he had. If he could practically have his face planted between her beautiful thighs and not ravish her, he was pretty damn sure he could kiss her without turning into a sex-crazed fiend. The last thing he wanted was to be that man with her—the man only seeking physical pleasure for him and his partner. The physical. No feeling, no emotion, just raw lust.

  He was capable of more than merely fucking. He had to be. For Julie, he had to be able to make love.

  Especially after watching her dance with the asshole. Closely. Thighs touching. The man’s arms wrapped around her waist, his hands resting exactly where Tommy’s had been a few hours before. He wanted her back in his embrace, with her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her body pressed to his, just as she was holding Brody now. And why shouldn’t he? She had promised him a dance.

  After placing his wineglass on a nearby table, he strode across the dance floor and tapped Brody on the shoulder. The other man glanced back. When his eyes connected with Tommy’s, amusement immediately brightened the man’s gaze. God, Tommy seriously loathed this asshole.

  “Hey, man. What brings you by?” Brody said, tugging Julie to his side and under his arm.

  The show of possessiveness boiled Tommy’s blood, and he curled his fingers into fists.

  “Julie promised me a dance,” he said, relieved that his voice sounded normal and not coated in hostility. He glanced past Brody to his best friend. Wide eyes gazed up at him and she stole his breath for the second time today. “Isn’t that right, Julie?” This time there was a huskiness to his tone he couldn’t hide.

  Her brows lifted, but he held out his hand. When she sent Brody a questioning glance, as if asking permission, Tommy clenched his teeth. Patience. The asshole wouldn’t be around much longer. Not if he had anything to say about it. Which he did.

  “Go dance with your friend.” The other man kissed her on the cheek and Tommy about cold-cocked him. “I’ll grab us some drinks while I wait for you.” Then he sauntered off, like he didn’t have a goddamn care in the world. Like another man wasn’t trying to swoop in and take his girl.

  Confident fucker, wasn’t he?

  They’d see how long that lasted.

  As another slow song started to play, Julie slipped her hand in his and Tommy tugged her close, wrapping one arm around her waist until he had her pressed against the full length of his body. Unlike before, when she’d relaxed into him, she seemed to strain away from him now.

  Leaning back, he frowned down at her. “What’s the matter with you?”

  The smile she gave him was also strained—like, bared-teeth strained. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  Earlier at the house, she’d seemed happy to be in his arms, might have even accepted his kiss. Now it was as if, were he to release her, she would bolt in the opposite direction. What the hell had happened?

  The rest of the dance didn’t go any better. She refused to look at him, her attention on anything and everything but him. When he’d ask her a question, all she gave him was a short answer, an “Uh huh” or “Mmm.” When the song was over, she patted him on the biceps and with that same strained smile, said, “Thanks for that dance, Tommy. I’m going to find Brody now.”

  And she strutted away, those hips swaying side to side, in search of another man.

  Jealous fury made Tommy suck a breath through his teeth. That had been a disaster. What was up with her 180-degree switcheroo? Was it because Brody was here? That seemed logical…

  But it didn’t matter, he told himself. She may be out with the asshole right now, but she’d end the night with Tommy.

  …

  A bald head grabbed his attention. Nerves hit his stomach as he spotted his former coach grabbing a drink from the bar. He’d been keeping his eye out for Mike all
afternoon, but he hadn’t been at the ceremony. Tommy had worried that maybe he wouldn’t be here at all. Now that he’d spotted Mike, he made a beeline over to him.

  Still a towering combination of muscle and intimidation, the other man had on a pair of khaki slacks and a white button-down shirt he’d left unfastened around the wide expanse of his neck. Tommy guessed this was as dressed up as Mike was willing to get. His old coach’s eyes narrowed when he saw Tommy approach.

  That wasn’t a good sign.

  “Mike.” Tommy held out his hand, which the other man took.

  “Tommy. Good to see you.”

  “Listen, I’m going to cut to the chase here and not waste your time. I’d like to apologize for my shitty behavior after I won the title.”

  “And the night you lost the title?” Mike asked, his expression unreadable.

  Rage immediately erupted within Tommy as the punk kid’s jeering circled in his head. Threatening to get Julie alone…to hurt her. “Sorry. I won’t apologize for that.”

  A grim smile curved one corner of Mike’s mouth and he nodded. “That’s what I thought. And just for the record? Nobody expects you to apologize for that. In fact, most of us were stunned he didn’t end up hospitalized when we found out what he’d said.”

  “He’s just lucky he crumbled after the first punch and his friends decided to jump in to keep me busy.”

  “I owe you an apology, too, Tommy. Had I known that the brawl was over what that asshole said about Julie, my reaction would’ve been different. But you never said anything, so I just assumed it was another one of your out-of-control moments.”

  “Which is why I didn’t defend my actions. If it hadn’t been over that, it would’ve been over something else, Mike. We both know that. Something needed to happen to knock me back on track.”

  Eyes narrowed, Mike rubbed the top of his bald head. “Mac told me you’ve been training with him. He also mentioned you might be interested in returning to the cage.”

  “Interested? Definitely. Is it a possibility? That depends on you and Ethan.”

  Mike sucked on his teeth while he studied him. “I know I have a rep for being hot-headed and just reacting. I did it to Dante, and I did it to you.” He pointed his finger at Tommy. “But in my defense, you both had been screwing up and my patience was gone. Before I even think about venturing down this road with you again, I need to know you are one hundred percent committed to your career. No more of the crap you pulled.”

  A flare of hope sparked in Tommy’s chest. “Mike, there is no one more painfully aware of their part in fucking up their career. Trust me, it’s not happening again.”

  “That’s good to know. So you want to come back?”

  “Of course I do, but you remember I’m barred from the cage, right? You have a training facility full of high-caliber fighters who are all slotted for matches. The chances of my getting back in are almost nil.”

  “I won’t lie. It won’t be easy. We all know why you punched Ethan’s son, but your reputation was in the shitter even before that. You’re going to have to prove yourself. Show everyone this is what you want. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Do you think Ethan can overlook that last fight?”

  “One thing I know about that man.” Mike lowered his voice and took a step closer. “Money talks. And you had a lot of fans. Even before you won the championship, you sold out arenas. Ethan isn’t going to forget that. He banned you in the heat of the moment. If we can show him you’ve changed, I think you have a pretty good chance of getting back in.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve always known you had the potential to be one of the greats in MMA, Tommy. One of the guys who still has loyal fans even after retirement. You screwed up, but I think you’ve learned your lesson. So what do you say we start kicking your ass again on Monday?”

  Tommy smiled. “Sounds fucking fantastic.”

  “Glad to have you back, man.”

  Hell, yeah. A huge weight lifted from his shoulders. His career was back on track.

  Now to get things on the right track with Julie.

  …

  Julie smiled up at Brody, who’d pulled her to a quiet alcove away from the group surrounding Dante and Cait to watch the bride and groom cut the cake. The reception was winding down. After tossing the garter and bouquet, the happy couple would leave to catch a late flight to Aruba, which Dante joked Caitlyn would not see hide nor hair of once they landed. Cait blushed, but Julie noticed she didn’t contradict her new husband’s prediction.

  Another wave of envy hit Julie right where it hurt. The entire night had been a roller coaster of emotions, starting with her encounter with Tommy at the house. That had pushed her to devote all her attention to Brody, which hadn’t been difficult, since he hadn’t left her side, not even to hang with the many other fighters in the building, who were grouped together talking shop as usual.

  Unfortunately, the more time she spent with him, dancing and touching, the more she realized they would never be more than friends. No matter how much she wanted to feel a spark with the man, she didn’t. And she needed to let him know right away, before she ended up hurting him. She’d never forgive herself if she did that, especially since she was allowing Tommy to believe there was more between her and Brody than there really was. Which meant she was using Brody, and honestly, that made her feel sick.

  “Cait’s about to throw the bouquet,” Brody said, nudging her forward. “Go out there and show those women how it’s done.”

  As she watched the single ladies gather on the dance floor, she bit her bottom lip. Should she? She’d never participated in the tradition at other weddings. But just a little while ago, hadn’t she made a determined vow to herself that she would marry and have a family? What better way to start looking toward that future than by catching the symbol that said she’d be the next to do just that?

  So she took her place beside a giggling woman who had to be in her very early twenties and most definitely did not need to marry.

  She caught Cait’s gaze, and Cait smiled and pointed at her before she turned around.

  “One. Two. Three,” Cait counted excitedly.

  The bouquet arched up. The young woman launched into the air, aiming for it like a heat-seeking missile. Just as her hands closed around the handle of the daisy-laden bouquet, Julie nudged her with her hip so she lost her grip. When the flowers tumbled from her fingertips, Julie grabbed a fistful of petals and yanked them to her chest, holding them close as she bent over to protect them from the giggling horde who tried to wrestle them away. Hands tugged at the bouquet, but Julie held on until everyone had given up.

  She’d done it! She’d caught the bouquet!

  Grinning, she glanced up, and her euphoria vanished in an instant.

  Tommy was staring at her, frowning furiously.

  Crap. Why did he have to be the first one she looked at? Why?

  And why was he scowling at her like that?

  She forced her gaze away and searched out Brody, who stood exactly where she’d left him, a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he gazed back at her. Stunned by the softly possessive look, she swallowed. Slowly she made her way to his side, letting out a little squeak when one of his arms shot forward, yanked her to him, and gave her a tight hug. “Now that’s how a woman should catch the bouquet. In true MMA style.”

  As guilt flooded her chest, she stared up at him. She might as well come clean now rather than later. “Brody, listen—”

  “My turn,” he interrupted, releasing her and strutting out to the dance floor as Dante led Cait to a chair, where she sat down. Dante slid his hands under Cait’s dress and waggled his brows, which made her throw her head back and laugh, then he slowly slid the garter down her leg. After he’d balled it in his fist, lingering long enough to give Cait a sweet kiss, he rose and twirled the garter above his head.

  Her gaze slid to Tommy, who hadn’t moved to join the single men in the center of the dance floor. Thank God. She really didn’t need
him to be the one who caught the garter. Not that he appeared eager to win the opportunity to slide the garter up her leg.

  Brody, on the other hand, looked more than willing to catch the garter. She didn’t want him to, which said a lot. They had to talk. Soon.

  Dante used his fingers to slingshot the garter into the air. Julie followed the high upward arc and its fall back down, directly in Brody’s direction. Breath held, she prayed for someone else to grab it. Please, please, for the love of God, please.

  Brody reached up. No! Right before his fingers closed around it, another hand shot up past his and snatched it from the air.

  Air whooshed out of her lungs and she froze to the spot as she realized, in consternation, who stood there with a look of pure satisfaction on his face, the delicate piece of lace dangling from his finger.

  Tommy.

  The worse of two evils.

  Oh, God. What the hell had just happened?

  Dismay flooded over her. Be careful what you wish for.

  Cait hurried over, grabbed her hands, and tugged her forward. The pull toward the empty chair knocked her right out of her daze. “W-What are you doing?”

  “It’s your turn.”

  “My turn for what?” She hated the high-pitched squeak that had entered her voice, but she knew exactly what was about to happen…and it scared the hell out of her. “We don’t have to do this, Cait! Seriously.”

  “Oh, yes we do.”

  When the bride pushed Julie into the chair, all she could do was sit there stiffly, hands gripping the satin fabric covering the chair, and stare wide-eyed at Tommy as he sauntered toward her, twirling that damn piece of lace-covered elastic on his damn finger.

  This cannot be happening.

  He dropped to one knee before her, his blond head bending too close to a part of her anatomy that had started throbbing with unbidden desire. She bunched her fingers into the satin, taking a short, sharp gasp of air. He slipped off one of her heels and inched the garter over her foot, up her calf, over her knee, and then beyond, until his hands were hidden beneath her skirt, heading straight for the stocking tops and garter belt she suddenly fervently wished she hadn’t worn on a whim.