Below the Belt Read Free Page B

she swung into the truck.
    Twisting the key in the ignition, she waited for the engine to catch, holding her breath as she heard the familiar labored whine of the starter motor turning over. As it had more and more lately, the motor failed to catch on the first try. Closing her eyes, she banged her forehead against the steering wheel.
    “Not now, you piece of crap.”
    She’d asked her fellow hotel maid and friend Narelle to cover for her back at the Hyatt on the Park while she met with Cooper. But if she didn’t get back soon she’d be missed and the last thing she needed was another warning letter in her personnel file.
    The thought of being one step closer to unemployment because she’d rearranged her life to be insulted by an ignorant ape was almost unbearable. Especially when she remembered the shiny red hunk of metal that selfsame ape had climbed out of when he’d arrived at Ray’s place earlier—a Ferrari Spider convertible, no less. And here she was, unable to even get her piece of shit to start.
    And he’d been wearing a suit—a dark gray single-breasted number that had clearly been custom-made for him, along, no doubt, with his white silk shirt and his fine black leather shoes. It had thrown her for a moment, seeing him dressed like a businessman. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting—fight trunks and a sheen of sweat, perhaps? Ben-Gay and workout gear?
    Whatever, it had all made him seem far less approachable than she’d imagined him to be. It had also made her feel defensive. She hated having to ask anyone for anything, but she’d psyched herself up to approach him. Then he’d walked in looking like some kind of GQ model instead of the fighter she’d been expecting.
    No wonder he had a reputation with women. That handsome face of his, those deep set, intense eyes, that big, strong body—she defied any woman to look at him and not wonder what he’d be like naked and hard. Until he opened his mouth, that was. Then the illusion was well and truly destroyed and most right-thinking women would be either reaching for the heaviest object handy, or heading for the door.
    Shaking her head, Jamie held her breath and tried the ignition again. She was about to give up and go beg Ray for a lift when the motor caught, coughing to life and belching black smoke out the exhaust.
    Crowing with triumph, she patted the dash with renewed affection and slammed the truck into gear.
    As always, she’d scraped through. Just as she’d scrape through being rejected by Cooper Fitzgerald. There were other trainers out there—good ones who would believe in her and see the same dream she saw. And when she was finally wearing the world champion’s belt, she’d have the pleasure of cutting Cooper Fitzgerald stone cold dead.
    It was an image that appealed a lot, and she was grinning fit to bust as she pulled out into traffic.

2
    A MONTH LATER , Jamie forced herself to sit quietly as her grandfather taped her left hand.
    “How’s that?” he asked.
    She flexed both hands into fists, then slid off the massage table in the women’s change room and tried a few punches in the air.
    “Good. Not too tight,” she said.
    “Let’s get your gloves on,” her grandfather said.
    He was a little pale. Nervous for her. That made two of them. She had so much adrenaline pumping through her system right now that she was ready to jump out of her own skin.
    This was her first professional fight.
    “Stay warm, but don’t tax yourself,” her grandfather advised once her gloves were laced.
    “It’s going to be all right,” she assured him. “I’m going to win.”
    He nodded and dropped a towel over her shoulders, patting her on the back. “You’re a tough customer, Jimmy.”
    She knew it was too much to expect more from him. He’d already leaned on old fighting contacts to get her this match, despite his belief that she should wait until she had a trainer before she started competing professionally. But she was sick of