LITMIR.BIZ

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stuffy. He hadn’t worn a tie, but he undid an extra button on his dress shirt. “Almost didn’t recognize you outside that office.”

      “Hello, Mr. Champion. Well done.” She hazarded a clap on his arm then regretted it, now knowing exactly how hard that particular body part was. As if she needed another thing to fixate on.

      Rich shrugged, uncharacteristically humble. “Just a regional title. I’m still in the minors.”

      “For now.”

      He tossed his jacket on the radiator. “Thanks for coming. And for sticking around this long.”

      “Hey, free drinks.”

      Rich laughed.

      “It was fun. My pleasure.”

      He sighed, a tired, genuine noise, and took a seat beside her—though not quite as close as Lindsey would have preferred. She’d never seen him like this. So…accessible. Probably just exhausted. He flirted with her every chance he got, and not subtly. As though it was a sport, one he played with every woman he came across.

      He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, forearms flexing with tendons and making Lindsey’s brain glaze over.

      “You actually watch any, or was it too gory?”

      “Oh, no, I watched the whole thing.”

      “It’s an acquired taste.”

      “Then I just may have acquired it tonight.” Oops—was that a flirty smirk she’d felt pass her lips? Quit thinking so hard. He’s just the obnoxious, sexy guy from the gym downstairs. The one she’d developed an extremely troubling fascination with the past couple weeks. Probably some self-defeating relationship-sabotage crush. Naughty matchmaker.

      A server came through with a tray of champagne flutes.

      Rich snagged two, handing one to Lindsey.

      “Thanks. Cheers to your big win.”

      They clinked. His dark eyes held hers as he drank. Goddamn, she could fall into that stare and drown, grinning as the world went black.

      “How come your face isn’t all screwed up?” she blurted. Rich laughed, a deep and far too exciting noise.

      “No, really. Haven’t you ever had your nose broken?”

      “Sure. Twice. And what about all this?” He pointed to a couple scratches and the bandage, and the stitched gash nearly healed beside it. She’d dabbed concealer on that once—long story. Been close enough to smell his skin, as she could now. Tonight that scent tried to hide behind a hint of cologne, but she found it easily, breathed it in.

      She pulled herself together and waved dismissively. “Surface stuff. I get those shaving my legs. How come you’re not…You know.”

      “More like Merce?”

      Lindsey wouldn’t say Mercer was unattractive, but he looked, perfectly aptly, like a man who’d spent the past decade getting routinely punched in the face. Whereas Rich…

      “You’re too pretty,” Lindsey concluded. “Too symmetrical. And your ears aren’t hideous enough.”

      He smiled, looking away as though she’d actually managed to make this shameless man bashful. She took the opportunity to ogle his forearm again, and the way his dress shirt pulled taut against his locked biceps.

      Their eyes met once more. “You implying I’m doing my job wrong?” he asked between sips. “Seems like letting my face get scrambled as little as possible would be to my credit.”

      “Fair enough. Are you happy with how you did tonight?”

      “You actually wanna hear the long, incredibly boring answer to that?”

      “Sure.”

      “I’m happy I won,” Rich said, swirling his champagne so the foam rose. “And I know the way it happened will be great for lining up another match, to prove I didn’t just stumble into a title with a lucky punch. If Higgins and I ever wind up in the same pro organization, I’ll probably get a nice rematch, maybe even move up the card, if they spin this into some rivalry. But I would’ve liked a bit more of a tangle with that asshole.”

      Lindsey nursed her drink as he recounted the details, asking questions when she didn’t understand a term.

      He laughed after ten minutes’ conversational dominance. “You fake not being bored really well. Tell me to shut up anytime.”

      “I don’t mind. We are at a fight, after all.”

      “True.”

      “Are you what they call a technical fighter?” She’d heard the term someplace, and it now accounted for a healthy percentage of her meager MMA vocabulary.

      Rich shook his head. “Mercer’s a technical fighter. Means he can execute a kick or punch with, like, robotic precision. Me, I’m sloppier, but when I hit, no matter how busted it might be, I like it to land hard. Like, hard. Plus I’m not the strongest grappler. Best if I can mess a guy up while we’re still standing. I do what they call sprawl-and-brawl, avoid going down to the mat whenever possible.”

      She crossed her legs, accidentally brushing Rich’s shin with her bare foot. Zing. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. So, how did you get into all this? Tell me you were in med school or something, then you had a nervous breakdown and went all Fight Club.”

      He cocked a skeptical brow. “You wish I was a doctor?”

      “No, I mean, it’d be cool if you had some upstanding life before you went rogue. It’s such a romantic cliché,” she said with a silly sigh. Oops, that’d be the champagne.

      “Sorry, I was never upstanding. Grew up poor, immigrant parents, got in tons of fights in grade school. High school dropout. But I could lie, if it gets you all worked up.”

      Lindsey grinned, hoping her blush didn’t show. “Nah.”

      “You sure? What do you want me to be, in my previous life? Investment banker? Oil magnate?”

      She laughed.

      “Lawyer?”

      “Definitely not,” she said a bit too passionately.

      He bumped her shoulder with his. “Disgraced royalty?”

      “That would explain your fight name.”

      “Nah, that’s just because of my aforementioned pretty face,” he said, flashing her a smile worthy of an Armani campaign.

      “It’s the nose. You have a very princely nose.” She nearly reached up to touch said nose, but perhaps mercifully, Jenna and Mercer wandered over. Lindsey edged herself farther from Rich’s hip. Assuring Jenna she was freshly single in front of him seemed lacking in both class and subtlety.

      Jenna beckoned Rich to his feet for a hug. “I wondered where you were hiding. Congratulations. If I’d been able to bring myself to watch, I’d say you looked great.”

      “I always look great.” Rich and Mercer gave each other the standard manly half-hug-slash-handshake.

      “Great work, man,” Mercer said. “Just don’t forget where you came from, once you sign with an org.”

      “I’m sure I won’t, not with the Wilinski’s branding you’ll want plastered all over my shorts.”

      “We’re about ready to head out. Did you still want to catch a ride with us?” Jenna asked Lindsey just as someone came around refreshing the champagne.

      “Oh…” She watched the foam rise in her glass. She didn’t want to leave yet. She wanted to stay and keep flirting with Rich, keep this lovely buzz stoked and put off getting bitched at by Brett for waking him up. But the subway would stop running shortly and cabs were expensive, especially if she was soon likely to be on

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