Hard Knocks: An Ultimate Novella (6 page)

BOOK: Hard Knocks: An Ultimate Novella
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Stack picked up the story. “But you know Cannon. On his way down he threw one last punch—”

“And knocked Moeller out cold,” Denver finished with enthusiasm. “It was truly something to see. Everyone was on their feet, not only here but at the event. The commentators went nuts. It was crazy.”

“Everyone waited to see who would get back on his feet first,” Stack finished.

And obviously that was Cannon. Gage half smiled. Every fighter knew flukes happened. Given a fluke injury had taken him out of the competition, he knew it better than most. “I’m glad he pulled it off.”

“That he did,” Armie said. “And if you don’t mind locking up, I think I’ll go pull off a few submissions of my own.”

Harper scowled in disapproval, then flapped her hand, sending him on his way.

A minute later, Denver and Stack took off, too.

Left alone finally, Gage put his arm around Harper. “Ready to go home?”

“My place or yours?”

“Where doesn’t matter—as long as you’re with me.”

She gave him a look that said
“Awww!”
and hugged him tight. Still squeezed up close, she whispered with worry, “I can’t believe Cannon almost lost.”

Gage smoothed his hand down her back. “Don’t worry about it. We fighters know how to turn bad situations to our advantage.”

“We?” She leaned back in his arms to see him. “How’s that?”

“For Cannon, the near miss will only hype up the crowd for his next fight.” He bent to kiss the end of her freckled nose. “As for me, I might have missed a competition, but I got the girl. There’ll be other fights, but honest to God, Harper, there’s only one
you.
All in all, I’d say I’m the big winner tonight.”

“I’d say you’re
mine.
” With a trembling, emotional smile, Harper touched his face, then his shoulders, and his chest. As her hand dipped lower, she whispered, “And that means we’re both winners. Tonight, tomorrow, and always.”

* * * * *

Look for Cannon’s story, NO LIMITS, the first book in the new Ultimate series— coming soon from Lori Foster and Harlequin HQN! Read on for a sneak peek...

“A red-hot page-turner.”
—#1
New York Times
bestselling author Kresley Cole on
When You Dare

If you loved the novella
Hard Knocks,
be sure to catch the first title in
New York Times
bestselling author Lori Foster's Ultimate series
No Limits
(September 2014).

Don't miss these other great stories from Lori Foster:

Dash of Peril
Getting Rowdy
Bare It All
Run the Risk
Back to Buckhorn
(novella)
When You Dare
Trace of Fever
Savor the Danger
A Perfect Storm
What Chris Wants
(novella)

These, and other Lori Foster titles, are now available in ebook format. Be sure to download all of them today!

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A
NXIETY
STILL
CHURNED
inside Yvette, 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 into 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 Cannon, 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 with men—really
any
sort of thing—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 and 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.

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, florescent 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 came 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 re-familiarize herself with how he moved and smiled. 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. She did as well. But leaving him half ownership of his house and pawnshop, with all the responsibility that went with it, was not the way to repay him. As a fan favorite in the sport, Cannon 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 against her 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 said 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...

Copyright © 2014 by Lori Foster

ISBN-13: 9781459256224

HARD KNOCKS

Copyright © 2014 by Lori Foster

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

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BOOK: Hard Knocks: An Ultimate Novella
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ads

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