Fighting Love (Love to the Extreme) (5 page)

fucking much and needed to make time for fun. Considering the fact she had been watching him

play too much and not work nearly enough, she hadn’t fully appreciated the advice at the time.

But she’d ended up realizing if she kept going like she was, her body was going to make her

stop from sheer exhaustion. So she’d hired Melody, and the woman was as dedicated to animals as

she was, and had helped take the clinic to the next level.

He stroked the dog’s fur, studying her with an indecipherable look.

“What?”

“The whole reason I wanted you to hire someone was so you could go out and have some fun.

Have you?”

These little reminders of how unbothered Tommy was with her dating other men were always

welcome, though each one came with a little pinch of hurt. They kept her from pining away for the

man, waiting for him to open his damn eyes. She didn’t want to be that woman. She felt sorry for

women like that. Women who refused to let go of men who didn’t return their feelings. Julie

wanted to marry, have kids. Tommy had no interest in those things, and most likely never would.

“Been on a few dates,” she said with a shrug. “I still work a lot, Tommy. So it’s hard meeting

someone.”

“Tried the dating websites?”

“With disastrous results.”

“Maybe we should go to the club. It’s a great place to meet people.” His ideal place for partner

shopping.

“That’s not my scene anymore. You know that. I hate going to those parties after a fight.”

“I also know you need to relax and let your hair down.”

“I can let my hair down without resorting to something I did in my early twenties.”

His jaw clenched, and she shook her head, silently cursing her snippy comment. She’d pretty

much told him, again, he needed to grow up.

Hell, not her business. It was his life. Her priorities were different. They had been since she

returned to Atlanta four years ago and opened her practice.

“One day you’re going to open your eyes and realize you’ve worked your life away, Julie.”

“Yeah, and the flip side to that coin, Tommy, is that one day you’re going to open your eyes

and realize that you had a career but lost it because your ego got too big and you were always

searching for a good time.”

Which was why she and Tommy would never work. As friends they were great. That way, the

stuff he chose to do didn’t affect her personally. He unknowingly hurt her feelings on occasion, but

that was more her issues than his. However, if they were together, as in sharing a life together,

she would never tolerate some of the crap he pulled that she did as his friend. Then she’d lose far

more than just a relationship—she’d lose her dearest, most treasured friend.

So, Tommy not feeling for her the way she felt for him was actually a good thing. Now she just

had to convince her damn heart.

“That was a cheap shot, Julie.”

“Was it? You know I love you, and we have always been straight with each other. But you were

screwing up. Sure, you loved to party before you won the championship, but there was always

some sort of balance. After you won, hell, I don’t know what happened to you.” She shook her

head. “Watching that cop handcuff you and put you in the police cruiser—that was absolutely one

of the worst moments of my life. And it was because of your actions.”

Anger burned bright in his eyes as he glared at her. He had never told her the reason he’d

punched the son of the CMC official who controlled his ability to enter the professional cage, he’d

just said the punk had deserved it. As he leaned forward, she knew she was about to find out.

“You want to know why I hit him?” His teeth clenched. “Because of you.”

She jerked back. “Me?”

“He hit on you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he was past drunk. I told him to get lost.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you do that. Icy eyes, frosty tone, superior expression. He let me know how

much the stick you had up your ass pissed him off. Let me know in graphic detail what he’d do to

you to make you regret rejecting him.” His face transformed into the murderous scowl he got when

he entered the cage. “And sitting here today, knowing the consequences, I’d hit the fucker all over

again for even thinking of laying a hand on you.” He shot off the couch, and a few seconds later,

the door to his bedroom slammed.

Stunned, Julie stared at the empty space on the couch across from her. Not that Tommy

defending her was any surprise; he’d done so before. What filled her with horror was how grossly

wrong she’d been about the events of that night, the things she’d so easily believed of him, that

had led her to yelling at Tommy that he needed to grow up.

A few hours earlier, he had lost the championship belt—just two minutes into the first round.

Ethan had chewed him out for his crappy performance, which really had been terrible. Surly, and

being a total son of a bitch, Tommy had been knocking back shots at the bar. For once, she’d been

glad he was ignoring her.

Ethan’s son approached him and they started talking. Next thing she’d known, Tommy had

busted the guy’s nose and taken out the two friends who’d tried to defend the kid. Tommy was left

standing in the middle, a quivering mass of rage.

Cops were called. He was arrested. Mike refused to coach him any more. Ethan banned him

from fighting in CMC. And Julie had bailed him out of jail.

This entire time she’d believed he’d thrown a Hulk-sized temper tantrum because he’d been

sitting there sulking about losing the title and Ethan’s son just happened to say the wrong thing to

trigger the explosion.

But that had never been the case. He’d been defending her. And as a thank-you, she’d

freaking told him he needed to grow up.

How the hell did she make up for that?

…

Tommy sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair as a giggling woman put some kind of makeup shit

on his face in the stockroom of Athletic Life. He’d called a car rental agency first thing this morning

and had them deliver a sedan so he could get to work on time. He hated every second of this job,

but it was a well-paying gig that didn’t take up too much of his time. Just a few hours a day for a

few weeks, while the Athletic Life marketing suits took photos of specific gear and equipment they

wanted showcased on an actual human in the catalog. The job would be wrapping up soon, and it

couldn’t come soon enough as far as Tommy was concerned.

However, today he was in a crappier mood than he usually was when he was here. He hadn’t

slept well, had tossed and turned most of the night, remembering Julie’s criticism and how it had

hit him right in the chest.

What sucked was that she was right. He hated when she was right. Over the last four months

of soul-searching, his former out-of-control ego and constant partying were two things he looked

back on and regretted. Maybe Mike, and possibly even Ethan, wouldn’t have been so quick to cut

him off if he hadn’t been fucking up so badly for months.

Being a career fighter had always been Tommy’s dream. He’d busted serious ass to be

recognized by CMC—the largest, most respected MMA organization in the world. CMC only hosted

the highest-caliber fighters, and being offered a contract to fight for them was like being offered

the Holy Grail of fighting. And he’d had it.

He’d pinpointed the start of his downfall to a little more than a year and a half ago when he’d

won the fight he needed to be a contender for the belt. At his victory celebration that night, he’d

partied hard. That win had also come with a hefty paycheck and winning bonus. For the first time

ever, he didn’t have to worry about money.

He’d started spending more time at the bars and clubs. It didn’t faze him to walk into a place

alone because he knew he’d be surrounded in no time. Men wanted to be his friend, and the

women… He’d never lacked for willing, gorgeous women, but after that win, they all but begged to

be with Tommy “Lightning” Sparks. And he’d been all too happy to oblige.

All that attention had gone to his head and he’d turned cocky, which had morphed into

arrogant asshole after he won the belt from Griffin. He’d started skipping practice, staying out late,

blaming everyone else when he had a bad practice. He’d totally lost control. And what had

happened? The first time he defended his title, he’d given the poorest showing of his entire MMA

career.

Then he’d punched the president’s son.

Still. That he would never regret. He’d told Julie the dead honest truth. Even knowing what

was going to happen, he would hit that motherfucker all over again.

“Is he ready?”

Coming back to the present, Tommy glanced over his shoulder to see Bonnie, the

photographer, standing inside the door.

“Yep.” The makeup woman dabbed one more of something on the corner of his nose and

straightened.

He pushed out of the chair and ambled over to the photographer he’d been working with the

last couple of weeks. She was attractive. Tall. In her spiked black heels, she was the same height

as his six-three, which meant she was probably around five-ten in bare feet. Bright, wavy red hair

reached the middle of her back, and she had green eyes that were too green to be real. Her outfits

were on the tight side and showed off her tiny figure. She had a sexually deviant vibe about her,

which usually turned him on. But nope, he wasn’t feeling her.

She was too aggressive for his taste. She’d made it clear that she wanted to tie him up and do

dirty things to him. Maybe the offer would have been more intriguing if she’d offered to let him tie

her up, though he doubted it, even if he did get turned on by being the dominant one.

No one was turning him on lately. He didn’t know what the fuck was the matter with him. He

loved women, but ever since the night he was arrested—the only time in his life restraints had

been put on his wrists—he hadn’t had any fun at all.

And it always came back to Julie’s expression that night after he was released. Her

disappointment had killed his libido. Except…

No. It wasn’t Julie. Yeah, he’d let her down, and if there was one person he hated letting

down, it was his best friend. But if there was one person he hated letting down even more, it was

himself.

He’d killed his own damn libido.

“Okay, Tommy, today we’re going to do the MMA portion of the catalog. We’d like to get a

picture of you in front of one of the bags Athletic Life offers.”

He’d known this was coming, and he hadn’t been looking forward to it. Even though he’d had a

bag set up at his house, still jumped rope and tried to keep to some of his conditioning routines,

he hadn’t posed as an actual fighter since he’d stepped out of the cage after his mortifying loss to

Ricky Moon.

Bonnie glanced at the group around him. “We want it to look like he’s been working out hard.

So make the man glisten.” She sent him a sidelong look with an inviting purse of her lips.

And again, there was nothing. Not even a twitch.

A pair of boxing shorts was shoved at him with an order to put them on. Dropping trou right

there, he shed his jeans and tugged the shorts over his boxer briefs, then yanked off his shirt. The

group attacked with baby oil first. Once that had been rubbed on his skin, they spritzed him with

water until he looked like he’d been working out for hours.

After they wrapped his hands—which they did a shit job of—and put the gloves on, he was

moved to an area that had been cleared out in the back of the store for the photo shoot. A white

sheet hung as a backdrop. Later, Bonnie would Photoshop a gym into the background.

As Tommy squared off with the red hanging bag, nostalgia hit him hard. Lowering his hands,

he straightened, staring moodily at the piece of equipment that had been such a huge part of his

life. Until he’d fucked it up.

“Tommy, are you okay?” Bonnie asked.

He turned to stare at her.

One day you’ll look back and realize you had a career but lost it.

The hell he would.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just realizing I have a few wrongs to set right.”

Starting with his best friend.

Chapter 3

Julie stood outside Tommy’s bedroom door, fist raised to knock, but she couldn’t gather the

courage to make her knuckles meet the wood. Wasn’t he making it clear he wasn’t ready to talk?

That he was still furious over last night? Sighing, she lowered her arm.

It was Valentine’s Day, and she hadn’t seen him all day. She never didn’t see Tommy on

Valentine’s Day.

Scratch that. Two hours ago, she had caught a glimpse of him as he’d stormed past her sitting

on the couch, and he’d gone straight to the bathroom for a shower—without so much as a glance

in her direction or a hello tossed her way. He’d never returned to the living room.

She was desperate to make amends with him, but plainly, Tommy wasn’t ready. And if he

wanted space, she had to respect that, especially now that he was living here. The last thing she

needed was to make him feel like she would push her presence on him even when he was giving a