Simon Says (11 page)

Though Dakota hated to admit it, she wanted Simon to see her at her best, to know that she could look feminine and pretty.

She wanted his admiration, damn it. And it didn't have a single thing to do with Barnaby's assignment.

“I don't know yet.” Hoping she didn't look as devious as she felt, Dakota dug for more information. “Where is it again?”

Mallet wasn't fooled for a second. “Sublime didn't invite you, did he?”

Well, hell, wouldn't be much point in lying about it now. “Nope, but he did mention that he was going.”

“I don't get it. What's going on with you two?”

Unfortunately, not a whole lot of anything. Yet. “What do you mean?”

“The very first day you came in, Sublime warned everyone to stay away from you.”

Her back stiffened. “He did what?”

Uncomfortable, Mallet cleared his throat. “Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Too late now.” Dakota tapped her fingers on the top of the door frame. Why would Simon do such a thing? “Do I look like a threat somehow? Did he think I'd disrupt the practice or throw off the routine?”

Amused at her assumption, Mallet grinned. “You misunderstand. Simon gave the warning so he could keep you to himself.”

Dakota just blinked at him. Keep her to himself? For what?

Seeing her confusion, Mallet clarified, “He laid claim.”

“Laid claim?” she repeated. “On me?”

“Yeah. But I'll be damned if I can figure out why, when he doesn't seem to be pursuing you all that hard. At first, everyone figured he was ready to get back in the game. You know, after breaking things off with Bonnie.”

Who the hell was Bonnie? “Yeah, uh, I'm not up on Simon's personal relationships.”

“He and Bonnie had a thing going on. They'd been together something like five years, or so I've been told. That was before I got to know Sublime better here at Havoc's gym.”

Dakota wondered what Bonnie might have done to cause Simon to end their relationship. Not for a second did she think to blame Simon. He wasn't the type to cut bait and run unless he had good reason.

“Anyway,” Mallet continued, “far as I've heard, Bonnie's been chasing him hard and fast, trying to get him back, but Simon's steered clear of women since. It's been a while, too.”

“No dating, huh?”

“He's been in training,” Mallet said with a shrug, as if that explained it all. “But then you showed up and he spread the word that you were off-limits before you'd even been here five minutes.”

Of all the nerve. Caveman tactics had never impressed Dakota. But now, well, it was kind of sweet to think of Simon wanting her all to himself. And romantic, too.

Had her lack of fashion sense appealed to him after all?

But then maybe after getting to know her better, he'd rethought his claim. As Mallet pointed out, he hadn't exactly been in hot pursuit. Sure, he'd kissed her a few times, but other than when she shanghaied him, he barely paid her any notice at all.

She'd have to see what she could do to get Simon a little more motivated.

Repositioning herself in her seat, Dakota leaned in closer to Mallet. “So. Are you going to the party?”

“Hell, yeah. It's an SBC party. They're going to announce the fight cards. I can't wait to hear the matchups. All the guys from the gym will be there.”

Hoping she didn't look as frumpy as Simon had indicated, Dakota smiled at Mallet. “Do you have a date yet?”

His blue eyes warmed…with laughter. “No, but I don't have a death wish, either, so if you're looking for a ride, forget it. Sublime would have my head.”

His humor rubbed Dakota the wrong way. “He doesn't own me.”

“Tell him that.”

“I plan to.” She'd tell him that and more.

“Really?” Now Mallet looked alarmed. “Well, for God's sake, don't tell him I'm the one who squealed to you.”

“Now, Mallet, you know that Simon wouldn't actually hurt you.”

Affronted, he drew himself up, showing off his extraordinary height. “I'm not afraid of any man in a fight. But Sublime has clout and I don't want to get on his bad side.”

“You think he'd blackball you?”

“No.” Mallet complained to himself, and then admitted, “He's a good guy, the best in the business.”

Dakota touched his arm. “And you want his respect?”

He scoffed at that, but said, “I deserve his respect.”

He probably did, Dakota thought. Mallet wasn't a bad man at all. A little too much of a flirt, and far too bold at times, but he wasn't irredeemable. “All right, Mallet. Take me to the party, and your secret will stay safe with me.”

He stepped back from the window. “You're blackmailing me?”

“Just get me in.” Dakota stuck her head out the window to appeal to him. “I'll tell Sublime…I mean Simon, that I twisted your arm. I'll tell him I was going to go anyway, and you didn't want me to have to walk in alone. He won't blame you, I promise.”

Mallet weighed her offer while looking her over again. “You gonna dress up?”

Did he also think she looked scruffy? Men. “You betcha,” she assured him. “Dress, high heels, the whole nine yards. Hell, I'll even throw on some makeup.” She'd do whatever she could to blow Simon's mind.

“No kidding?”

While Mallet thought about her request, Dakota thought about Simon's audacity.

How dare he lay claim to her, but then not invite her to an important party? Did he plan to flirt with other women? Did he have a date with someone else?

Had Bonnie won her way back into his heart?

The very thought made Dakota's stomach tighten and soured her mood. “Make up your mind, Mallet. I don't have all day.”

At her grouchy impatience, a wide smile lifted Mallet's ears. “Why not? If nothing else, watching Sublime watch you ought to be enough fun to make up for any trouble this causes.”

“Great!”

Before Dakota could do too much celebrating, he held up a hand. “But there's a condition.”

“There always is. Let's hear it.”

“Call me Michael. Mallet is fine when I'm in the ring, but it doesn't sound right coming from such a pretty woman.”

Pretty. How sweet. “Thank you, Michael.” Dakota wrote down the name of her motel and her cell phone number, in case of any problems. “What time will you pick me up?”

“Eight o'clock.”

“I'll meet you in the lobby.” She briefly gripped his wrist, and was stunned at the thickness and vibrant strength. No, Mallet had no reason to fear any man. “Thank you, Michael. I owe you big time.”

He said nothing to that, and so Dakota drove off. But she saw him in her rearview mirror, standing there watching after her truck, until she turned the corner and couldn't see him anymore.

S
IMON
was bored and trying to hide it.

Twice now, throngs of women had ambushed him. They waited for him everywhere—near the bar, in the billiards room, even by the men's john. He'd had more offers tonight than most men got in a year.

There used to be a time when all the female attention amused him.

Tonight wasn't it.

Everywhere Simon looked, people laughed and joked. Men razzed each other, women flirted. The four-man band was great, and though he'd kept to his strict diet, the food and drinks looked good. Dean and his wife, Eve, danced. Gregor and his wife, Jacki, huddled in a corner, smooching. The entire lower level of the bar, including several private rooms, was at the disposal of SBC fans and fighters.

Not even the mechanical bull could hold Simon's attention. He'd moseyed in there once, only to dodge back out before the female crowd could reach him. There didn't seem to be enough men to occupy all the women.

Knowing Dakota wouldn't call him, Simon still checked his cell phone. Again.

Nothing.

He tucked it back in his slacks pocket and leaned on the wall. He should have found a good excuse to skip this. He could have gone to Dakota's motel, locked them both in a room, and rid himself of pent-up sexual frustration.

That thought came with a visual, and his body stirred. Damn. Not good.

Would the night never end?

A group of five fighters came over to him, followed by twice that many females. They insisted he share a few of the more gruesome stories of broken bones and popped ribs. Using the interruption as a diversion from his thoughts, Simon obliged, laughing with them, telling the tales without embellishment. By the end, he had a woman squeezed up on each side of him.

The conversation turned to tattoos. Some fighters sported so much ink, they looked like comic papers. Most displayed tats with meaning, while still others tried to add menace with a well-placed, frightful design. It amused Simon how someone would always try to outdo someone else with the most outrageous artwork.

“You got any tats, Sublime?” one young man asked.

“On the top of my feet,” Simon told him around a swallow of cranberry juice over ice. During training, he didn't allow himself any alcohol at all. “When I was twenty-two, I got drunk enough and cocky enough to think it'd be cool to have matching bullet hole designs there.”

“Bullet holes?” one petite brunette asked. “I don't understand.”

Remembering his reasoning at the time, Simon grinned at himself. “I had just gotten really good with a high kick, and when I hit someone just right, it sounded like a gunshot.”

“Awesome,” one young man said with near reverence.

Right. Awesome. Simon grinned and shook his head. He got a real kick out of the new recruits to the SBC, their enthusiasm and naiveté, along with their determination. Training them was very rewarding.

“I think it sounds sexy.” A chesty blonde smiled at him. “Will you show us?”

“Not tonight.” Simon was about to comment further on tattoos when the band called a halt and the lead man jumped down from the stage.

It wasn't until then that Simon noticed his shirt. It read,
BARBERS HAVE BIG POLES
. Alongside the text was a thick red-and-blue striped barber pole.

Barber.
That was too much of a coincidence for Simon to let it pass. He excused himself from the group and started toward the bar where the singer had just ordered a drink. On his way, Simon studied him. He was tall, maybe as tall as Simon himself. Unlike most skinny musicians, he had a thick, muscular frame. As he lifted his drink and tossed it back, the flex of his arm showed a bulging bicep.

Not the typical musician at all.

Before Simon could reach him, Bonnie waltzed in, redirecting Simon's attention. As usual, she looked gorgeous, decked out from head to toe in designer duds. With her hair twisted up in some deliberately loose, sexy style, she caught the attention of every male she passed.

Keeping Simon in her sights, she ignored all others and made a beeline for him.

Simon sighed. Bonnie hadn't given up on him. Since the fateful day he'd left her, she'd done everything imaginable to get him back. Usually he could refuse her calls, dodge her come-ons, and ignore her apologies. Inside the crowded bar, it wouldn't be so easy.

Could the night get any worse?

Simon no sooner had that thought than he heard a familiar voice screech,
“Barber!”
and everything masculine in him went on high alert.

Bonnie reached him, started to say something, but Simon caught her shoulders and moved her to the side in time to see Dakota—at least, he thought that was Dakota—dashing across the floor toward the bar.

The singer had already left his seat with his thick arms spread wide to greet her.

Jealousy burned red hot.

“Simon?” Bonnie complained. “Whatever are you looking at?”

“I'm busy, Bonnie.” He tried to step around her, but she jumped in front of him and put her arms around his waist. Dakota slipped out of his line of vision, and he couldn't free himself from Bonnie to get her back in his sights. “Let go.”

“Simon, don't be like this.” Bonnie tightened her arms and put her head to his chest. “I've missed you so much. I came all this way in the hopes we could talk.”

“We don't have anything to talk about. I've made that as clear as I can.” Simon saw the flash of Dakota's legs—gorgeous legs, damn it—when the singer lifted her off her feet and swung her around in a circle.

“But there's something important that I have to tell you.”

“Forget it.”

With her hands clenched into the fabric of his shirt, trapping him, Bonnie pushed back enough to see Simon's face. “You will listen to me, Simon. I insist.”