Fighting Attraction
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I like the bad boys
PENNY
“Rampage!”
“Rampage!”
“Rampage!”
All heads turn as Jack “Rampage” Caldwell enters Miller Stadium in San Francisco for his debut professional MMA fight. Through the shouts and cheers of the near-capacity crowd, I can hear the voices of the Redemption fighters, come to cheer on the most popular member of the team.
Situated in Oakland, Redemption is the premier MMA training facility in Southern California, and Rampage is our newest professional star. Although not an MMA fighter, I work out at Redemption and tag along to all the social events because all my friends there and the Redemption fighters are some of the best, and hottest, guys I know.
“He’s loving this.” Amanda, my boss and good friend, holds her phone up to snap a picture. “Look at him smile.”
Oh, I’m looking. Rampage used to be a super heavyweight fighter, but after a mysterious health scare, he lost a lot of weight and dropped down to the heavyweight class. After going pro and signing with the Mega Extreme Fighting Championship (MEFC) promotion, Rampage got a makeover. His new management team convinced him to crop his thick blond hair and do away with his trademark yellow happy face tank top, although they couldn’t do anything about the jagged scar across his throat and the skull-and-crossbones tattoos covering his arms like sleeves. I thought he was hot when I first met him at the gym two years ago, but now he is drop-dead gorgeous.
A shiver runs down my spine as I drink him in. At six feet two inches, with an incredible reach, he is the tallest fighter on the card tonight. His body is almost too perfect, from the massive shoulders to the toned pecs, and from his narrow waist to his slim hips. When he fought as a super heavyweight, he had a lot less definition, but now I count at least eight ridges on his abs, and the mouthwatering V of his obliques is an invitation not to be ignored.
His opponent, Jerry “Juice Can” Jones, is going to be kissing the mats tonight.
“Isn’t this the part where you jump on a chair, wave, and scream yourself hoarse? We don’t want our front-row seats to go to waste.” Amanda brushes back her long, golden curls. “Or does Rampage not warrant the full Penny Worthington treatment?”
An attorney with her own firm in the Lower Haight district of San Francisco, Amanda does sarcasm almost too well. Her fiancé, Jake, a.k.a. Renegade, also a fighter on the Redemption team, just laughs her off. I don’t have his thick skin or his ability to cajole her back to good humor when she’s annoyed, so I usually fall back on my British stiff upper lip.
“I’ve matured since the death metal concert incident.” I huff and shoot her what I hope is a scathing look. A few years ago, we went to see my favorite band, the Slugs, in concert, and I jumped on the stage and did a little dirty dancing with Vetch Retch, the lead singer. Vetch and I had a couple of dates, and then things went bad, as they always do for me when it comes to men. “I’m not as excitable anymore. In fact, I think I’m…”
My voice trails off when Rampage makes an unexpected detour that will take him right past our seats. Heart pounding, I jump to my feet, scream his name, and pump my fist in the air.
Adrenaline shoots through me, and I get the rush I’ve been craving all day. My heart beats a little faster, my vision becomes a little clearer, my smile grows a little wider, and all my stress fades away.
“I don’t think he heard you,” Amanda says. “Maybe it’s your British accent. Can you shout in American?” She’s all sarcasm tonight. Just to spite her, I scream his name again.
Rampage pauses in front of us, and his gaze lingers on me. His deep-set eyes are sable-brown flecked with gold. He has a strong jaw, wide cheekbones, and a perfectly shaped mouth. The tat on his left arm, a tumble of grimacing skulls and roses, and the faint scars running down the sides of his face only add to his appeal.
I’ve never been this close to him before a fight, and although he is the same old Rampage—Redemption’s gossip king, everyone’s best friend, and all-around nice guy—there is something different about him tonight, a darkness, as if he let his mask slip and set the real Rampage free.
My breath catches in my throat as he stares at me. I know that darkness—understand it—because beneath my pearls, pastels, and pretty clothes, I hide darkness, too.
He startles, and then his face smooths over and he gives me the old Rampage grin. “Pen!”
We high-five, my small, pale hand smacking against his massive palm. With a nod for Amanda, he turns away and heads up the stairs to the cage, leaving me with a sore hand, a faint smile, and a perfect view of his tight ass.
“He likes you.” Amanda gives me a nudge. “He’s always looking at you when you’re at the gym.”
“That’s because we’re friends, and he probably can’t believe he has a friend as out of shape as me. Check out my total lack of tone.” I hold out my arm and flex my nonexistent bicep. “Plus, although he’s hot, he’s too nice for me. I like a little dark and dirty. I need a bad boy who can rein in my wild side because I can get a little bit out of control.”
Amanda snorts a laugh. “Just a little?”
“A teensy bit.”
Inside the cage, Rampage slips off his robe and prepares for his fight. He stretches, flexing his arms, rocking up on his toes, curling and uncurling his gloved hands. At a signal from the referee, he touches gloves with Juice Can and immediately moves in with a jab.
I’ve never been to a professional MMA fight, and the atmosphere in the stadium is electric. Cameras swing over the cage, flashing close-ups on the big screens for the audience live-streaming the event. Lights flash. The crowd cheers. A woman in a gold bikini holds up a sign that says “I love Rampage,” and the ring girls shake and shimmy for the cameras.
Rampage throws a few more punches and slams Juice Can to the canvas like he was flipping a burger at the Redemption summer picnic. Wow. Just wow. Juice Can is supposed to be unbeatable. His last opponent couldn’t get him down on the mat once during their bout. Rampage has him kissing the canvas in less than thirty seconds.
I like the bad boys
PENNY
“Rampage!”
“Rampage!”
“Rampage!”
All heads turn as Jack “Rampage” Caldwell enters Miller Stadium in San Francisco for his debut professional MMA fight. Through the shouts and cheers of the near-capacity crowd, I can hear the voices of the Redemption fighters, come to cheer on the most popular member of the team.
Situated in Oakland, Redemption is the premier MMA training facility in Southern California, and Rampage is our newest professional star. Although not an MMA fighter, I work out at Redemption and tag along to all the social events because all my friends there and the Redemption fighters are some of the best, and hottest, guys I know.
“He’s loving this.” Amanda, my boss and good friend, holds her phone up to snap a picture. “Look at him smile.”
Oh, I’m looking. Rampage used to be a super heavyweight fighter, but after a mysterious health scare, he lost a lot of weight and dropped down to the heavyweight class. After going pro and signing with the Mega Extreme Fighting Championship (MEFC) promotion, Rampage got a makeover. His new management team convinced him to crop his thick blond hair and do away with his trademark yellow happy face tank top, although they couldn’t do anything about the jagged scar across his throat and the skull-and-crossbones tattoos covering his arms like sleeves. I thought he was hot when I first met him at the gym two years ago, but now he is drop-dead gorgeous.
A shiver runs down my spine as I drink him in. At six feet two inches, with an incredible reach, he is the tallest fighter on the card tonight. His body is almost too perfect, from the massive shoulders to the toned pecs, and from his narrow waist to his slim hips. When he fought as a super heavyweight, he had a lot less definition, but now I count at least eight ridges on his abs, and the mouthwatering V of his obliques is an invitation not to be ignored.
His opponent, Jerry “Juice Can” Jones, is going to be kissing the mats tonight.
“Isn’t this the part where you jump on a chair, wave, and scream yourself hoarse? We don’t want our front-row seats to go to waste.” Amanda brushes back her long, golden curls. “Or does Rampage not warrant the full Penny Worthington treatment?”
An attorney with her own firm in the Lower Haight district of San Francisco, Amanda does sarcasm almost too well. Her fiancé, Jake, a.k.a. Renegade, also a fighter on the Redemption team, just laughs her off. I don’t have his thick skin or his ability to cajole her back to good humor when she’s annoyed, so I usually fall back on my British stiff upper lip.
“I’ve matured since the death metal concert incident.” I huff and shoot her what I hope is a scathing look. A few years ago, we went to see my favorite band, the Slugs, in concert, and I jumped on the stage and did a little dirty dancing with Vetch Retch, the lead singer. Vetch and I had a couple of dates, and then things went bad, as they always do for me when it comes to men. “I’m not as excitable anymore. In fact, I think I’m…”
My voice trails off when Rampage makes an unexpected detour that will take him right past our seats. Heart pounding, I jump to my feet, scream his name, and pump my fist in the air.
Adrenaline shoots through me, and I get the rush I’ve been craving all day. My heart beats a little faster, my vision becomes a little clearer, my smile grows a little wider, and all my stress fades away.
“I don’t think he heard you,” Amanda says. “Maybe it’s your British accent. Can you shout in American?” She’s all sarcasm tonight. Just to spite her, I scream his name again.
Rampage pauses in front of us, and his gaze lingers on me. His deep-set eyes are sable-brown flecked with gold. He has a strong jaw, wide cheekbones, and a perfectly shaped mouth. The tat on his left arm, a tumble of grimacing skulls and roses, and the faint scars running down the sides of his face only add to his appeal.
I’ve never been this close to him before a fight, and although he is the same old Rampage—Redemption’s gossip king, everyone’s best friend, and all-around nice guy—there is something different about him tonight, a darkness, as if he let his mask slip and set the real Rampage free.
My breath catches in my throat as he stares at me. I know that darkness—understand it—because beneath my pearls, pastels, and pretty clothes, I hide darkness, too.
He startles, and then his face smooths over and he gives me the old Rampage grin. “Pen!”
We high-five, my small, pale hand smacking against his massive palm. With a nod for Amanda, he turns away and heads up the stairs to the cage, leaving me with a sore hand, a faint smile, and a perfect view of his tight ass.
“He likes you.” Amanda gives me a nudge. “He’s always looking at you when you’re at the gym.”
“That’s because we’re friends, and he probably can’t believe he has a friend as out of shape as me. Check out my total lack of tone.” I hold out my arm and flex my nonexistent bicep. “Plus, although he’s hot, he’s too nice for me. I like a little dark and dirty. I need a bad boy who can rein in my wild side because I can get a little bit out of control.”
Amanda snorts a laugh. “Just a little?”
“A teensy bit.”
Inside the cage, Rampage slips off his robe and prepares for his fight. He stretches, flexing his arms, rocking up on his toes, curling and uncurling his gloved hands. At a signal from the referee, he touches gloves with Juice Can and immediately moves in with a jab.
I’ve never been to a professional MMA fight, and the atmosphere in the stadium is electric. Cameras swing over the cage, flashing close-ups on the big screens for the audience live-streaming the event. Lights flash. The crowd cheers. A woman in a gold bikini holds up a sign that says “I love Rampage,” and the ring girls shake and shimmy for the cameras.
Rampage throws a few more punches and slams Juice Can to the canvas like he was flipping a burger at the Redemption summer picnic. Wow. Just wow. Juice Can is supposed to be unbeatable. His last opponent couldn’t get him down on the mat once during their bout. Rampage has him kissing the canvas in less than thirty seconds.
