I don’t remember the exact moment the jealousy and possessiveness started. Maybe it was always there, only I was too desperate to see it. But by the time I opened my eyes, accusations were part of our daily routine. I guess it doesn’t help that I own a gym. A place filled with hulking men ramped up with too much testosterone. The place Caden also happens to spend most days training for his upcoming fight at the MMA Open.

Ralley’s Gyms were started by my Dad and his partner, Caden’s Uncle, Joe Ralley. The two men were best friends since they were kids. Both dedicated to the sport of fighting, my Dad made his name as a fighter and Joe as a professional trainer. Fifteen years ago my Dad, known to everyone in the fighting world only as “The Saint”, retired as Middleweight Champion of the US Boxing Conference. Capitalizing on his fame, and Joe’s talent as a trainer, the two best friends decided to open a gym dedicated to Mixed Martial Arts Training. At the time, the sport was just gaining national popularity and there were few gyms devoted to training fighters who wanted to go into MMA professionally. The dynamic duo’s gym took off as the sport grew rapidly. One gym turned into two, then four, then eighteen after only three years. Today, the Ralley name has the east coast fighter market locked up, operating sixty-two locations.

Reluctantly, I peer through the glass front door of the gym. I feel a sigh of relief that he’s not there. Sitting. Stewing. Waiting for me to walk in for a full onslaught inquisition. But the damn bells tied to the top of the door rattle loudly, even though I try my best to open the door quietly. Shit, I need to get rid of those things.

“Where you been?” Caden’s on me before my jacket is even fully off.

“I overslept. Sorry you had to cover for me.” Giving him a hesitant, forced smile, I shrug, trying to sound casual and grab the mail on the counter at the front reception desk.

“Then why didn’t your phone wake you? I called. You must have been too busy to pick up.” There’s no mistaking the anger in his voice and the bite of sarcasm at my being busy.

Digging my phone from my purse, I look at the screen finding eleven missed calls. All from Caden. A quick survey of the times tells me he was growing impatient. Fast. The first few calls were five minutes apart…the last few, less than a minute elapsed before he was hitting redial. “Sorry. I must’ve forgotten to turn the ringer back on last night. I went to class and then fell asleep.”

“You’re sorry for a lot this morning, aren’t you?”

I lower my voice, I really don’t want a scene. Not again. “Please don’t do this now, Caden. I went to class and then home. I didn’t hear my phone alarm go off for the same reason I didn’t hear your calls. My ringer was off. Don’t turn it into something more than it is.” I pause, deliberating my words for a few seconds. “And you need to stop acting like we’re still together, Caden.” I don’t want to be hurtful, but he needs more than a subtle reminder he has no right to question what I’m doing anymore. I know he’s nervous about his big fight coming up, so I’ve been treading lightly. Obviously lightly isn’t the right tactic.

Pete, Caden’s regular sparring partner, whistles from a distance. Caden looks torn between interrogating me more and getting back to his training. Lucky for me, a loud, impatient shout from Pete helps him make the decision, which earns me a reprieve. A temporary one, anyway.

Pointing an angry finger at me before leaving the front desk area, Caden warns, “This conversation isn’t over.” But it’s definitely over for me.

***

Even with my lateness, I’m able to get all my work done by the early afternoon. Caden may not be the right man for me, but over the last nine months, he’s done so much to make managing things easier. After my father’s heart attack, I was barely able to function, let alone keep up with the business of running sixty-two independently operated gyms. Caden’s uncle is a great guy, but managing the business end of things was Dad’s responsibility. Joe’s idea of keeping the books straight meant throwing receipts in a shoe box. Literally, a shoe box.

Reeling from the death of the only parent I’d ever known, I was lucky to have Caden. He computerized the books, set up a payroll system, and even got the trainer’s schedules online for customers to book. All while I was barely functioning. A state of shock had set in after my father’s unexpected death rendering me almost useless at work. Truly, I’m not sure what I would have done without him. I only wish things between us would have stayed professional. Getting involved with him romantically just happened. He wasn’t shy about wanting to be with me, and I, well, I didn’t say no. Devastated from the loss of a man who had been the center of my universe, I was desperate to fill a void. I thought Caden was the answer at the time. Boy was I wrong.

With Caden out for a few hours this afternoon at a meeting with his agent and fight promoter, and the phones oddly silent for a change, I’m able to get almost a solid hour of sketching in before the sound of a man’s voice startles me. Completely engrossed in my drawing, the deep, raspy sound takes me by surprise and I jump half out of my seat. Unfortunately, half out of your seat doesn’t end nearly as well as jumping fully out of your seat. Because I’m sitting Indian style, one leg gets stuck in the arm of the chair as my body jerks forward in reaction to the sound which catches me off guard. The momentum of my weight falling one way has the opposite reaction on the chair I’m still half sitting on. It tips backwards, falls to the floor, taking my leg with it. Of course, my entire body is forced to follow my leg. I land flat on my back. Somehow the chair I was entangled in, now on top of me.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you,” says the deep voice that started this mess. Lifting the chair from on top of me, one large hand extends down, offering assistance, which I take, thoroughly embarrassed at my clumsiness.

Back on my feet, I right my clothes, pulling down my top, which seems to have sailed in the opposite direction when I tumbled down in a wholly unladylike fashion. Finally looking up to clearly see the face attached to the deep voice, my gaze is met by a tall, broad, extraordinarily beautiful man. Feeling flustered from the combination of falling off my chair and finding a devastatingly beautiful creature standing so close to me, I’m relieved to see my sketches strewn all over the floor. It allows me a minute to collect my wits. Reaching down, I begin to collect my papers, but beautiful man is a gentleman too. Crouching down to his knees, he helps gather the books and loose drawings that dislodged from my sketchbook.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” Of course, now that I want the bells to sound, they’re no longer there…mostly because I untied them from the door the minute Caden left. Perhaps they really did serve a purpose other than just alerting Caden to my arrival.

Beautiful man smiles, “I didn’t just walk in, I’ve been here for hours. I was in the back with Marco.”

“Oh.”

Extending the papers he’s collected in my direction, he asks, “You drew these?”

I nod.

“All of them?” Beautiful man motions to the half dozen or so sketches he’s collected from the floor.

I nod again.

“Mind if I look?”

I shake my head no. He smirks, likely at my inability to form verbal responses. What the hell, did my little fall turn me into a mute?

As the stranger slowly studies my drawings, I slowly study him. Dirty blond hair, damp from a recent shower, cut short and styled haphazardly in a sexy, I just got laid kind of way. My eyes follow the chiseled line of his jaw from one side to the other. Michelangelo couldn’t have created a stronger male profile. Unable to stop myself, I chance a glance down lower to what appears to be an equally stunning carved physique beneath a thin white shirt straining slightly to cover his broad chest.

Taking more willpower than I care to admit, I force my eyes back to the man just as he looks back to me. Pale blue eyes peek out from beneath long, thick dark eyelashes, the raw beauty knocks the breath right out of me and I actually gasp a little. No man should be so stunning. He really requires a warning before he enters a room.

A slight uptick on the right side of his perfectly full lips tells me he knows the effect he has on me. I mean how can he not? What woman doesn’t this beautiful man affect at first glance?

“You’re good.” His deep voice is smooth, like running your hand across thick, plush velvet.

Brows furrowed, I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about. Mr. Beautiful chuckles a bit, realizing I’m lost. “Your drawings, they’re really good.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you show your work?”

“No. It’s just a hobby. I take a few art classes.”

“Well you’re good enough for it to be more than a hobby.”

“Oh, thank you.” I smile. “I’d love to draw you.” The statement blurts from my lips before my brain catches up. I slap my hand across my mouth in a lame, late attempt to try to stop the words, but it’s too late, they’re already out there.

He smiles, looking amused at my fumbling, and arches one eyebrow intrigued. “I’d love that.”

“You’d love what?” Caden’s angry voice booms from behind Mr. Beautiful. Taking that bell down really was a mistake. I seem to be oblivious to people coming and going today.

“Ummm.”

Mr. Beautiful turns, catching just a glimpse of the anger resonating from Caden. He throws me a lifeline, “I’m visiting for a few weeks. I have some business with Joe Ralley. I need to schedule some more times with Marco while I’m here. Miss…” he turns back in my direction, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

I do. “It’s Lily.”

“Lily.” He nods and the corner of his mouth twitches up just slightly, but I notice it. “Was going to work out a schedule for me.” He tilts his head and squints his eyes, a realization of some sort coming to him, he smiles. “You wouldn’t happen to be The Saint’s daughter, would you?”

Confused at how he would know, I answer, “I am.”

Caden takes a moment, looking between the two of us, assessing the situation. “I’ll schedule your trainer times. Lily has more important things to take care of.” His tone makes it obvious it’s not a suggestion, it’s been decided already.

“There’s nothing more important than helping our customers,” I admonish, turning to face Caden. His jaw tenses, eyes darkened with fury squint, and the vein in his neck throbs. He looks ready to explode. We stare at each other for a few seconds before I finally give in, blowing out a breath in frustration. “Fine,” I say before turning back to Mr. Beautiful. “Caden will set up your schedule. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Sounds good.” Mr. Beautiful extends his hand in Caden’s direction. “Jackson,” he offers to Caden, but turns his head to me with a grin.

Caden hesitates, but eventually clasps the man’s hand with a curt nod. “Caden Ralley.”

***

I was supposed to be at the restaurant five minutes ago, yet here I am lining my eyes with a thick, smoky gray pencil as if I’m an hour early. I finish my makeup, checking my face in the mirror and liking the results. It’s been a while since I’ve had the urge to girly myself up. I’ve always liked clothes, the way the right pencil skirt and strappy shoes can lift my mood, making me feel like a beautiful woman instead of the gym rat I’ve let my appearance turn into over the last few months.

I smile as I look in the mirror, remembering the last business meeting I went to with Joe and my dad. A protein powder rep had invited us out, hoping to convince us to sell his line of products in our gyms. Everything was going well, until the poor salesman paid me an innocent compliment. “You look so different than when we met at the gym,” he commented, his tone reflecting different was meant in a good way.