Winning Love Read Free Page A

he preferred solitude to hanging out. Who gave a fuck? He wasn’t hurting anybody.
    So he took his anger out on his opponent in the cage. Who the hell cared how he beat his opponent, as long as he did?
    If Lance pushed this, Mac would find the first flight back to Atlanta.

    E ight thirty.
    He wasn’t coming. Mac Broom-Shoved-Up-His-Ass Hannon.
    Gayle twisted her lips in annoyance. Not that she was really surprised. The man had been uppity to the point of humor. But if he thought for one second she’d let him off the hook, he had another think coming. Gayle Matthews didn’t back away from a challenge—and unknowingly, he’d issued a very exciting one she couldn’t ignore.
    After making the trek to Lance’s place, she stomped up the porch steps and rapped on the door.
    As Lance answered, an amused snort came from him and he shook his head. “I should’ve known it was you.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “You know I admire your tenacity, right?”
    “ Uh-oh . Did the terrified fighter make you pinky swear that the next time you saw me you would convince me he wasn’t interested?” He chuckled, but it quickly faded to a seriousness so unlike him it put her on alert. “What, Lance?”
    “Listen, I know you. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. I can’t stop you. Hell, you might be exactly what Mac needs. Just be careful, okay?”
    The warning intrigued her. “What are you saying that you’re not saying?”
    “He’s damaged, Gayle. I don’t know this Mac, and I don’t know what he is capable of if he’s pushed into a corner. I’m not telling you to back off, because honestly, I think he could use a good dose of you, just…tread carefully.”
    So the grrr-worthy fighter was damaged goods. That worked to her advantage and made him safer for her. The last two men she’d enjoyed a few weeks of fun with had been too emotionally available—a mistake she didn’t plan to make again. “Message received.”
    Over his shoulder, Lance yelled, “Mac!”
    A few seconds later, the man himself trotted down the stairs. He’d exchanged the soaked shirt that had given her a panty-wetting glimpse of the hard muscles underneath for a black wife-beater that displayed his powerful arms very nicely. A Celtic half-sleeve decorated one bicep and the curve of his shoulder with different shades of black and gray.
    For the second time that day, her breath caught tight. When she’d come around the side of the house, she’d been stunned at the towering hunk of male hotness before her. She’d known Lance was going to pick up a friend who was helping him train, knew this man would probably be as attractive as Lance, but the reality of Mac blew her imagination to smithereens.
    Tall, possibly six-four, nothing but bulging muscles. Dark brown hair topped his head and was a little long, so a strand fell onto his forehead.
    As he approached the door, she didn’t miss the clench of his jaw or the slowing of his steps.
    Undeterred, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You know, it’s rude to stand a woman up.”
    He mimicked her stance. “I believe I told you I had better things to do.”
    “And I believe I told you eight o’clock.”
    A moment of shock lit his brown eyes. He seemed to catch the slip and put his grumpy face back on.
    “Now, come on. The sun is about to set. The food is past cold and I didn’t slave away at a stove for nothing.”
    She bounced down the steps. No footsteps followed. She twisted and lifted a brow. He was still rooted to the spot. The mask had completely fallen off, revealing an interesting amount of reluctance. She turned all the way around and tilted her head to study him. How could a man who looked like him have a second of hesitation at being alone with a woman? Lance had said he was damaged. Just how bad was it?
    Mac glanced at Lance, who had his eyes narrowed on him. Tension crackled between the two men. Oh. Something had happened here.
    “Gayle is a fixture at my house,”