This Round for Love Read online

  THIS ROUND FOR LOVE

  Champion Hearts Book 2

  by Malia Mallory

  Will Ford’s obsession with victory ruin his chances with Darcy?

  When Darcy Winthrop travels to Miami to organize a mixed martial arts event, she imagines sunshine, sand and maybe even a holiday fling if she stumbles across the right guy.

  What she finds is a sexy brawler with something to prove.

  Ford Cooper’s a man on a mission. MMA made him a star, but a major injury put him in the “has-been” category. He’s determined to fight his way back to the top one punch at a time and love is a distraction he doesn’t want.

  Now Darcy’s in for a fight—a fight to keep Ford in the ring without breaking her heart.

  ~ * ~ * ~

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  Copyright 2015 by Malia Mallory

  LICENSE NOTES

  All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for the personal enjoyment of the original purchaser only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Even if you received this book free for promotional purposes, it does not grant a right of redistribution. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  DISCLAIMER

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  MATURE CONTENT

  This story contains sexually explicit material, and is intended only for persons over the age of 18. By downloading and opening this document, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction. All of the characters involved in the sexual situations in this story are intended to be 18 years of age or older, whether they are explicitly described as such or not.

  SAFE SEXUAL PRACTICES

  This story is a work of fiction and depicts fantasy situations. Safe sex practices are not always referenced. Please always be sure to educate yourself about safe sex before engaging in physical intimacy. Please do not try any sexual practice without proper knowledge and guidance.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Excerpt from Something True

  Complete List of Titles by Malia Mallory

  About the Author

  Connect with Malia Mallory

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  This Round for Love

  Chapter 1

  Darcy

  When I saw him across the lobby, all my lady parts came to attention. Every. Single. One. My nipples tightened and I grew moist inside. Who was he?

  Mr. Hot and Muscled was at least fifty feet away, but it was almost as if he were standing close, his heat rolling off the tanned surface of his skin and lighting a fire inside me.

  Darcy, you’re nuts. It’s just sexual frustration rearing its ugly head because of the cobwebs between your thighs. It was true. It had been a while. My eyes strayed to the check-in desk, but flipped back to him like iron to a magnet. Yep. Still hot.

  I would be in Miami for a few weeks. There was no reason I couldn’t find some company. After all, wasn’t Miami filled with lots of hot, young singles? My last relationship had broken up a few months ago, and no one had crossed my path that aroused my interest. I’d started to worry, thinking Brock’s tear down of my self-esteem had put me into a freeze. Apparently, I was wrong—blessedly wrong. At the very least, the drought seemed to be over. If one guy piqued my interest, it was a sign of a much-needed thaw.

  I rolled my suitcase to a nearby seating area and plopped onto the cushion. It’d been a long day. My flight from New York had been delayed, and the seats at the airport were about as comfortable as those in a bus station. I was used to traveling, having been a professional tennis player, but that wasn’t me anymore. Sometimes I wasn’t sure who I was, but I knew I wanted to prove myself. I’d taken my father up on his offer of a job. A position, he called it. I recognized it for what it was—an opportunity to finally work for the family hotel business.

  I’d brought a tennis racket with me. I’d had little time to play lately in New York, and I was feeling the itch. I’d been moderately successful at professional tennis, but I didn’t have the drive, or the talent for that matter, to make it to the top. Thousands of hours of practice and thousands of dollars in coaching couldn’t give me that spark when I didn’t have it. I was good enough. I’d made a living off it—a good living, but I was ready to move on. I was moving on.

  When I first left the tour, I didn’t play a lick of tennis for a couple of months. I was so burned out that I couldn’t imagine it. But I missed it. I missed scrambling for the close balls and the surge of satisfaction when I made a great shot. I was ready for fun, casual play where my ranking wasn’t on the line with every rally.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I checked on the object of my lust. He reached for the hem of his sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. Even in the air-conditioned cool of the lobby, it was too hot for a sweatshirt.

  The fabric of the t-shirt underneath caught, bunching up around his chest. My head swiveled, along with a dozen others, eyeing the tanned skin of his toned abdomen. Was that an eight-pack? Was that even possible? He tossed the sweatshirt on top of his suitcase, reached for his shirt, and pulled it back down.

  A sigh escaped my lips, and with reluctance, I pulled my gaze away. The swamped registration desk looked like a zoo. I wanted to see how the staff handled it. Officially, I was here regarding an upcoming mixed martial arts event, but the guest relations VP in New York had asked me to poke around. There had been an uptick in guest complaints about the Miami location. That was never good.

  I liked the hotel business. It was interesting, always changing, dynamic. My grandfather founded BIW Resorts International and my father grew it until it encompassed resorts and hotels all over the world. Growing up, I visited most of them. I’d even played a few tennis exhibitions at some of the properties when I’d been on tour. It was a natural fit for me to slide into a position in Events. Our resorts hosted golf tournaments and tennis championships, but the MMA fight series was a new contract.

  The event was a few weeks away, and it wasn’t coming together. From the look of things, the problems in Miami went beyond the upcoming event. The line at registration wasn’t getting shorter. It was getting longer. Nobody came out to help. With a crowd like that, even the manager should be out front. There was one young man fumbling with luggage, and I didn’t see anybody at the valet stand.

  The potted tree to my left was artificial, something the BIW frowned on. Why would you need fake plants in Miami? The plastic tree was dusty and I didn’t want to examine it too closely, but it looked like there was a cobweb in the middle. Totally unacceptable.

  The main paths on the carpet showed wear, or perhaps they were simply dirty. It didn’t matter. Either the carpet needed a good shampooing, or it was time for a replacement. Even the windows looked dingy. If the manage
r wasn’t on top of the hotel appearance, who knew what else was slipping?

  I took out my phone and made notes. What I’d seen so far was enough to initiate a visit from a team in New York.

  I bit my lip as my eyes turned back to Mr. Hot and Muscled. I suppressed a groan. So yummy. He was probably as dumb as a rock. Or mean. Or an asshole. It wouldn’t be fair to be so sexy and good-looking without something negative to balance it out. As I smiled to myself, he hoisted a large duffel bag onto his shoulder and strode away. I hoped there were a few more like him staying at the hotel and, with the MMA event scheduled, there probably would be.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Ford

  The lobby was hot. Too hot. I stripped off my sweatshirt and eyed the reception desk. Damn. I had my room key. I’d been here a week, but I wanted to ask about moving rooms and that didn’t look likely at the moment.

  My room had a great view, but it was too close to the ground. At night, the sounds of partying drifted in unless I closed the sliding glass door. I preferred the ocean breeze to the air-conditioning, but I needed my sleep now more than ever. I wasn’t going to make a single misstep. Not one. Not with regaining my belt on the line.

  I had something to prove and I wasn’t trying to hide it. I couldn’t punch every sports journalist in the mouth, but I was determined to make them eat their words. I wasn’t over. I wasn’t a has-been. I was as good as I’d ever been. I believed it. I was going to make everyone else believe it, too.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Darcy

  I rolled my suitcase into the room. It was stuffy and the curtains were closed. I grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled it away from my skin, allowing air to rush in. I only wished the moving air was cool.

  I crossed the carpet to the thermostat on the wall and turned on the AC. I opened the drapes and sunlight flooded the room. The beams of light highlighted floating dust particles. This room was not exactly what I would consider ready. The guests should see the gorgeous view the moment they walked in. I didn’t like the idea of wasting AC, but the room shouldn’t be hot, either.

  I entered the bathroom and flipped on the lights. One bulb was out. There were smudges on the mirror and no extra towels on the rack. The toiletries on the counter were arranged in a haphazard manner.

  I sighed. Small things, but significant for an upscale resort. This wasn’t a budget motel. They were lucky my father hadn’t dropped in. Heads would be rolling already.

  I didn’t want to think about it. I was exhausted. People might lose their jobs, and that depressed me. And I felt alone. So alone. Usually I had people around—friends, family, or co-workers—to distract me from my negative thoughts. I was bouncing back. I knew I was. But it was taking time.

  I shivered as the cold air hit my perspiring skin. If Brock were here, what would he do? Call the front desk and complain up a storm.

  That stupid Brock. Why did he keep crawling back into my mind? Because I let him was the answer, of course.

  I opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. A hot ocean breeze skimmed over my skin, and I closed my eyes. I grasped the railing and turned my face to the sun, soaking in the warmth. It was a perfect moment but for my roiling emotions.

  I’d really loved Brock, and seeing his flaws boil to the surface hadn’t immediately killed my feelings. He was handsome. Smart. Sexy. Successful. Everything I thought I wanted. We’d had great times together.

  When he talked about my tennis career, I thought nothing of it at first. We’d met when I was still playing, and he wasn’t the only one who didn’t believe I was serious when I said I was leaving. It was a natural topic of conversation. Even when he talked about me going back on tour, I’d let it roll off me. I knew it wasn’t happening. I knew it wasn’t what I wanted.

  When he suggested with more insistence, I evaded and changed the subject, and that was on me. I should have said something much sooner. What did he care what I did? He loved me for me, right? Turned out he loved the idea of being in the spotlight. He wanted to mingle with celebrities and athletes—something I couldn’t give him as a management cog in a corporate office.

  If the idiot had just waited until I started going out on the road, it would have happened. I’d have introduced him to pro golfers and Grammy-winning rock stars as I took a more active role in on-site events.

  I was lucky, I guess—lucky to find out his real interest was in what I could give him and not who I was. It didn’t make me feel much better, though. Relief streamed through me as I realized the pain was so much less—more like a distant ache in the back of my heart.

  I opened my eyes and scanned the expanse of beach below. People dotted the sand and frolicked in the breaking waves, but an invisible wall separated me from everyone else. I was trapped in a cocoon of my own making. The difference was now I wanted to break out.

  I had an appointment with the resort manager tomorrow. Maybe I should do something for myself. My fatigue evaporated as I thought about slipping into a bikini and hitting the beach for a few hours. That’s what I needed—a little sun, a little sand, a little surf. I’d let the ocean breeze whisk my cares away.

  Tomorrow would be soon enough for serious work.

  Chapter 2

  Darcy

  The cabanas were full. That was fine by me. I hadn’t reserved one. In fact, I was glad to see they were full. That meant guests were taking advantage of the amenities. Happy guests meant returning guests.

  As I removed my cover-up and spread out on a lounger, I wished I’d worn the blue bikini instead of the white. I was in shape. I still worked out. But my skin was pale enough that I could get a sunburn sitting in the moonlight. A white bathing suit looked so much better with a tan.

  Oh well. Maybe the glare of my skin would temporarily blind a super cute guy. I’d buy him dinner as an apology and he’d fall in love with me over steak and wine. Good luck with that, Darcy.

  I might not meet someone, but it didn’t hurt to look, did it?

  I spread sun lotion all over my skin, keeping a lookout for anyone looking my way. It would be awesome to run into Mr. Hot and Muscled from the lobby, but that was a long shot.

  A shadow appeared and I looked up. A dark-haired guy stopped by my chair.

  “Can I help you with the lotion?” He followed his statement with a warm smile.

  I looked past him and saw a woman across the pool glaring daggers in my direction. Wife? Girlfriend? I didn’t want to know.

  I gave him a cool smile. “Thanks. I’m good.” I turned away, flipping my sunglasses down over my eyes. This conversation was over.

  I wasn’t averse to meeting someone. In fact, I wanted to meet someone. Someone nice. Someone interesting. I didn’t expect happily-ever-after, but I’d at least like him to be single.

  I opened my book, but behind my sunglasses, my eyes scoped out the pool area. There were a couple of prospects. Maybe.

  I sighed and started reading. I wasn’t the random pickup type. I didn’t know what I was thinking. It seemed unlikely I’d find someone who was going to be here a few weeks among the guests. I liked to get to know someone a bit before jumping into bed. Usually. I’d had my moments, but that was what usually happened.

  I didn’t want to catch the eye of a wanderer. I’d had enough of that in the past. When I was on the pro tour, maintaining a relationship was hard with all the travel. I’d had a few casual boyfriends who thought my absence was a license to cheat.

  Screw that.

  Across the pool, a masculine laugh caught my ear. I followed the sound. Yummy. Tall. Great smile. A curly-haired child hurled himself into the man’s arms. Endearing, but not promising. A moment later, a pretty woman, clearly pregnant, waddled over.

  Okay. That was a no go.

  Enough.

  I was making myself crazy.

  I’m going to sit here, read my book, and enjoy the sunshine.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Ford

  “Come on, dude. Come out with us.” Jed rep
eated the same line almost daily. After training all day, the guys would go out to blow off some steam, and they’d invite me to join them.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Not tonight.” I curled my arm slowly, welcoming the burn in my muscle. I adjusted the weight in my hand.

  Jed blew out a breath. “You haven’t come out any night.”

  I counted off the set in my mind. “Sleep. Training. That’s what you need, too.”

  “What I need is a woman.” Jed let his weight clank to the ground. He picked up the weight and returned it to the rack.

  “Women steal your mojo.” I switched the weight to my other hand and counted off the bicep curls.

  Jed laughed. “You don’t believe that old wives’ tale, do you?”

  I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it was the sex itself that got a guy in trouble before an event. It was the socializing—the late nights, the smoky bars, and the one-too-many beers. That was a recipe for losing the edge that separated the winner from the loser. “I believe I need my sleep. That’s what I believe.”

  Jed scoffed. “You’re in top form. You can ease off. You don’t want to burn out before the fight.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t burn out, but I’m not taking any chances.”

  “I haven’t seen you in better shape.”

  Jed wasn’t lying. He’d seen my training, both before and after my injury. “I’m in great shape, but I need to be if I’m going to hand Correa his ass.”

  “I heard through the grapevine he’s not looking great. I know a guy who knows a guy at his gym in California.”

  Sounded like bullshit to me. “That’s not what I heard, but I bet that’s what he’d like me to believe.”

  “I’m not lying, man,” Jed protested.

  “I know you’re not. It’s just that I know Correa. He’d do anything to psych me out. Anything to gain an edge. Who can blame him? Sometimes it’s something small that makes the difference.”

  “You don’t need to worry.”

  I gritted my teeth as I lifted the weight again. “I’m not worried. I’m determined.”