Making Him Sweat & Taking Him Down: Making Him Sweat / Taking Him Down

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Just as Mercer was settling back down for another hour’s sleep, reality intruded. Loudly. His phone buzzed on the side table, and when he saw Rich’s number on the screen, it could only mean one thing. He hit Talk before the ringer could kick in, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Lemme guess—your crappy-ass car’s broke down on the Tobin Bridge.”

“No, I’m downstairs. I just forgot my gym keys.”

Mercer rolled his eyes. “We’ve gotta get a keypad.”

“C’mon, man. Bobby’s down here. Don’t make this OCD bastard late for his workout.”

Mercer heard the man in question grumble something in the background.

“Fine. Lemme get some clothes on.” He clicked the phone off and headed back to his room. Jenna was sitting up, afghan hugged to her chest.

“Sorry. Rich locked himself out. I have to go down and let him in.”

She nodded through a yawn.

Mercer yanked boxers up his legs and grabbed a T-shirt. “Go back to sleep.”

He jogged downstairs and glared at his friend a moment through the glass door, then flipped the bolt.

“Thanks, man.” Rich swept in, giant Bobby and his gym bag right behind him, and Mercer led them down to the gym and unlocked the double doors.

Bobby was as OCD as Rich made out, and as soon as the lights were on he was heading for the warm-up area, clearly irked to be two minutes behind his daily regimen.

Rich gave Mercer and his outfit a glance. “Don’t dress up on my account. But now you’re awake, you wanna put some pants on and run drills with me?” He swiped a couple elbows in the air between them.

“Hell no. I’m going back to bed.”

“Wow, grumpy. I interrupt something good?”

It was a joke, but Mercer flinched, a deadly tell to a fellow fighter.

Rich’s face fell. “Oh shit. Sorry, man. I did, didn’t I?”

“Never mind. I’ll see you at ten with coffee.”

“Coffee and all the horny details,” Rich teased, but when Mercer didn’t reply quick enough, Rich’s expression shifted again, realization dawning. “Whoa. It’s not Jenna, is it? Did you bone Jenna?”

Mercer caught Rich in the shin with a kick. “I didn’t bone anybody.”

“Did you make sweet, sensitive love to Jenna, though? Because that is weird. Monty’s daughter… Basically your dad’s daughter. That makes her, like, your stepsister, Merce.”

“Shut up.”

“He would murder you if he was alive.”

“I’ll murder you right now if you don’t shut the hell up about it.”

Rich put his hands up. “Fine. But it’s wicked creepy, just so you know.”

“See you later.” Mercer jogged back up the stairs, annoyed. And was even more annoyed to hear the shower running when he got to the apartment.

Probably for the best. Maybe they’d been spared an awkward shared waking, or some quick tumble that would’ve only made things more confusing. He wouldn’t have minded a peek at her naked body in the daylight, though.

An idea he’d been toying with resurfaced, and Mercer decided it was a good one. When Jenna emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around her trunk, he offered her a goofy smile. She returned it with something a bit cagier, a good-natured smirk.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning. Sorry about that. Not the most relaxing way to wake up.”

She shrugged and Mercer wished he hadn’t noticed the dots of water on her shoulders, or how goddamn sexy she looked with wet hair and eyelashes and no makeup.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Probably good that I’m up so early. I have a million things to do today.”

“I’ll bet. And actually, I’ll make all that a little easier for you, and get out of your hair for the weekend.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Delante could use a couple nights away from his family drama. I’m gonna drive him down to Hartford, have him spar with a couple guys a buddy of mine trains there. Get him focused. Plus it’ll get me away from you, since my boy’s not the only one around here who’s losing their focus.”

She blushed, and Mercer wondered if she thought he meant her, or himself. Both of them, probably. And it looked as though it’d take nothing less than crossing state lines to keep them apart.

“Not the worst idea,” she agreed.

“Probably be back Sunday noontime. If I don’t run into you before I head out, have a good weekend.”

“You too. You want coffee? I’ll start it once I’m dressed.”

“Nah, I better get downstairs. Start figuring out how to get my shifts here covered on such short notice.”

“Okay. Well, have a good trip, if I don’t see you.”

“I will.”

With a nervous-looking smile, she headed for her room, closing the door softly. Mercer’s breath had been high in his chest, and he let it out with a noisy sigh. Definitely for the best that he clear out for a couple nights. One look at her and he’d remember everything that had happened the night before, jump her and either get himself slapped or laid again, and he wasn’t honestly sure which was preferable.

He headed down to the gym. The more steps he put between his body and Jenna’s, the safer it was for everyone involved.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JENNA SPENT THE MORNING composing an ad to find her future assistant. Once it was uploaded to the best job-listings sites, she turned her energy to redecoration tasks.

At the sound of shouting, Jenna fumbled and the metal ribbon of her tape measure recoiled into its case and caught her thumb. “Ow.”

She’d been measuring the front windows for blinds, and after a short silence more shouting drifted down the hall from the gym. Seconds later, Delante came stomping past. He caught sight of her on the other side of the glass, stopping to stare. His gaze was intense, unmistakably angry.

Jenna’s heart pounded but she did her best to fake calm. “Everything okay?” she called.

The teenager looked down a moment, jaw flexing, then stepped to the doorway. “You own this place now, right?”

Panic gripped her. Had Mercer told his trainee she might have to close the gym? “Yeah, I do.”

“So you’re, like, Merce’s boss?”

“Uh, technically. But—”

“Can you tell him to lay off me, then? Dude’s driving me nuts. Busting my balls, like…” He trailed off, a violent inhalation seizing his massive shoulders. “Just tell him to quit riding me.”

“I’m sure he’s only pushing you as far he knows you’re capable—”

“It’s not that. Dude needs to chill. He makes it sound like this tournament’s the only thing in the world. Like I don’t got other shit to take care of.”

She bit her lip. “Right… Would you like a cup of coffee or something?” She wasn’t sure why she was offering, except she knew the kid needed to talk. And sure, she was technically the boss. Might as well do a good job, even if it was temporary. She owed guys like Delante that much.

He thought about it for a few breaths, then surprised her by saying, “Yeah, okay.”

She waved him in and filled a mug from the French press she’d brought down.

“Thanks.”

“Have a seat.” She did the same, sitting in the chair behind the desk and wondering how often her father might have sat here, talking with kids like Delante. He filled the space with a potent mix of sweat and a dizzying choice of cologne. The smells that passed for manhood at nineteen. “So, Mercer’s getting on your nerves?”

“Yeah. He’s always riding my ass, like he’s my dad or something. I told him I had to cut back on training, so I can get a job.”

“And he told you you couldn’t?”

“No, he was all like, ‘Okay, we gotta change your schedule up, then, so you can do both.’ And I was like, dude, I gotta sleep. This shit ain’t my whole life. It’s his whole life but, like, I got other responsibilities, you know?”

Jenna nodded. “Mercer cares a lot about you. And your potential—”

“I am so sick of that word.”

“I’ll bet. But he sees something in you. He sees a future for you in fighting. I’m sure he only wants you to succeed.”

“Well, I gotta succeed way faster. He don’t get that. He ain’t gotta live my life when he leaves that stupid gym. I need money now, and he’s like, ‘Wait four weeks, until the match.’ Dude, that’s, like, forever. I can’t wait till then. I got shit to take care of.”

For the love of God, don’t let it be a pregnancy.

“Now he’s all like, ‘Okay, pack some clothes, we’re going to Connecticut.’”

“Might do you guys good to be stuck in a car for a few hours. He can’t shout orders at you like down in the gym.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really. I know he’s a taskmaster downstairs, but go along for the trip, then let him know he needs to back off on your schedule. He’s a reasonable guy. I’m sure he’ll understand if you just explain. Calmly.”

Delante shook his head a moment, then cracked an unexpected smile, laughed softly. “You’re such a chick.”

She smiled back. “I know.”

He looked around the office. “So you’re opening some dating service, right?”

She nodded. “Like the personals sites do, only more…personal. Old-school.”

“That’s pretty cool, I guess.”

Inspiration struck. “You said you need some fast money?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Well, I’m going to be having this office and the apartment upstairs redone over the next couple months. I can probably get you some work helping—basic stuff like moving furniture, painting, sanding, maybe picking things up for me, if you’ve got a car. If you’re interested…”

“If it’s money, I’m interested. And I got a car.”

“Okay. Good.” Good for Delante, though possibly an invitation for yet more hassle and complication for Jenna. But if it kept the kid around the gym and out of the trouble Mercer had implied waited for him elsewhere, it seemed a smart gesture. Though she probably should have asked Mercer first.

“Give me your number and I’ll let you know when I’ve got a job that needs doing.” She pulled out her phone and opened a new contact.

He started to tell her the digits, then paused. “Your dad wouldn’t probably want me doing that stuff for money. He’d probably have said I should do it for free.”

“Well, I’m not my father. And it’s hard work, and hard work deserves payment. Plus I’d probably get scammed for a lot more by a moving company or a contractor, so you’re still doing me a favor.”

He submitted and gave her his number.

She saved the entry. “Great. And you’ll go with Mercer tonight, to Hartford? And tell him how you’re feeling? Oh gosh, you’re right. I do sound like a chick.”

He laughed. “Yeah. I can’t believe you’re Monty’s daughter. But sure, I’ll go. Only ’cause now I don’t have to spend the weekend hustling for work. So, thanks.”