Got A Hold On You (Ringside Romance) (12 page)

An unusual woman he’d never met until two nights ago,
a player hired to entertain the audience the same way he did day after day,
three hundred shows a year.

He gripped her shoulders, broke the kiss and held her
a safe distance away, if there was such a thing. Her fingers still clung to his
hair and her eyes glazed over with desire. She might not be a professional
actress, but she was damned good at making the passion part of this script look
real.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Black Jack
Hudson,” the referee announced. The crowd went wild, showering the ring with
popcorn, beer, and anything else they’d bought at the concession stand and
hadn’t yet consumed.

“It’s here! It’s here!” The minister squealed like a
child on Christmas morning. For an actor, the guy seemed unusually excited.
Maybe he hoped for a repeat performance at next month’s Hammer Lock Festival.

“Oh, my God,” she said, teetering against Jack.

He glanced toward the Monkey Tunnel. A twenty-foot
float rolled down the ramp—pink, green, and purple flowers framing a
four-poster bed covered in gold satin sheets.

“I didn’t know they made sheets that color,” she said.

“I’m a flannel kind of guy myself.”

“No kidding?” She glanced up at him.

“Would I kid you at a time like this? When we’re about
to consummate our marriage in front of fifteen thousand fans?”

“Don’t even,” she threatened.

“Lighten up. It’s a family show, remember? At least it
used to be.”

“Your chariot awaits!” the minister said, motioning
them toward the float.

Jack eased out of the ring and caught his new bride as
she stumbled through the ropes. Coordination wasn’t her strong suit, but she
had other attributes that were more important than being able to walk straight.

He gave himself a mental slap.
Get on the float, sail out of here, and get to the condo
. He wanted
to lock himself inside and stand under the coldest shower possible. Then,
maybe, he could forget this night and the seductive taste of peppermint.

Tatianna, Jack, and the minister climbed aboard the
floating monstrosity. The minister took his position front and center, waving
his Bible at the screaming fans. Jack leaned back against the headboard and
waved his Stetson. His “wife” gripped the bedpost with both hands and smiled.
Growled, more like it. He had a feeling she wasn’t big on being paraded around like
a star. She’d get used to it. They all did sooner or later.

The float maneuvered around the corner of the ring
taking out the metal steps, a set of guardrails, and a few folding chairs. Good
thing this was the end of the show. Between the tossed refreshments and
demolition float, the set was cashed.

They cruised up the ramp backstage, the curtain
falling behind them.

“That was wonderful! Wonderful!” The phony minister
climbed down from the float.

Jack jumped off and the actor grabbed his hand. “I’ve
been a fan since forever! I was raised on Killer Kowolski and Verne Gagne. You
don’t know how much it means to me to participate in a real rasslin’ match.
Maybe next time they’ll let me be a guest referee.”

The guy pumped Jack’s hand.

“Jack! Jack!” Sully raced up to them, giving his hair
the once over with both hands. “Great show, fabulous job, Henry. I can’t thank
you enough for filling in at the last minute.” Sully winked.

“It’s a good thing I had the experience.” The actor
chuckled, and Sully slapped him on the back.

“So, you’re local talent, then?” Jack asked Henry.

“You two haven’t been formally introduced?” Sully
said. “Jack Hudson, please meet my dear friend and minister of the First
Presbyterian Church of East Bridge, Wisconsin, Harold Gardner.”

“A real minister?” Jack’s blood ran cold. “You had a
real minister marry us?”

“That means…” Tatianna’s lips quivered.

“We’re really married,” Jack finished for her.

She collapsed on the makeshift bed in a puff of golden
feathers.

It was freaky, horrific nightmare.

Either that or an afterlife hallucination: Frankie and
the cowboy had actually died in the fall and her ascension to heaven included a
free fantasy—marrying Black Jack Hudson.

“Wake up, girl. You’re scaring me,” an angel said.

She opened her eyes and Maxine’s heavily made-up face
came into focus. The woman’s silver hair was trimmed with a bright yellow
headband and her eye shadow was a blend of lime green and bright pink.

“What are you doing here?” Frankie asked. Maxine
hadn’t made the jump with them.

“Your uncle wanted me to take care of you. You
fainted.”

“I didn’t know you could faint in heaven.”

“Heaven? Holy headlock, where did you get that idea?”

“But the fall, then the marriage and then…oh, God.”
She clutched her head to stop the spinning.

With two fingers pressed against Frankie’s wrist, Max
pursed her lips in concentration. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I…uh…Don’t know. What happened?
 
Why did I pass out?”

“My guess? Low blood sugar. Pulse rate’s okay.” She
placed Frankie’s hand on her stomach and gave it a motherly pat.

“I thought I died.”
 

“Stop that ridiculous talk. You’re fine.”

“Am I really…married?”

“Minister said the words all right.”

Max placed a cool cloth on Frankie’s forehead. She
closed her eyes.

“Everything will be fine,” Max said. “That scheming
uncle of yours miscalculated, that’s all.”

Her eyes popped open. “Miscalculated? I’m supposed to
marry Bradley. We have it all planned, a brunch reception to keep the cost
down, flowers donated by Mott’s Funeral home. He’s already booked his cousin’s
polka band that plays three hours for the price of two.”

“Thrilling,” Max said.

“Bigamy is against the law in this state, isn’t it?”

Max shrugged.

“What state are we in, again?”

“Sounds like the state of confusion.”

“I’m going to be sick.”

“Not on my best sweatshirt you’re not.”

Frankie eyed Max’s sweatshirt that read, “High Flyers
Drool, Mat Men Rule” in electric yellow. A migraine started to burn behind
Frankie’s eyes.

“I want to go home.”

“Of course you do.” Max patted her forehead with the
damp cloth. “You’ve had quite a night. I have to say, that jump was amazing.
Ratings are gonna soar.”

“Ratings?” She sat up and snatched the cloth out of
Max’s hand. “What is it with you people? I could have been killed.”

“Don’t be silly. Jack would never have let anything
happen to you.”

“Only because he didn’t know I was the evil niece of
his sadistic boss. Otherwise, you’d be ordering my coffin right about now. By
the way, I’m partial to walnut.”

“Didn’t you wake up on the pity pot?” Max paced across
the room and unzipped a garment bag that hung on the back of the door.

“Yeah, well, I have a right to feel a little sorry for
myself. I’m lucky I survived that stunt.” Not to mention the incendiary kisses
from Black Jack Hudson.

“Had nothing to do with luck. The man holding you is
one of the most talented athletes in the business. Talented in more ways than
one.” She glanced over her shoulder and winked. “My feathers ruffled all over
watching the two of you play tongue twister.”

“It was a trick.” Frankie’s insides tingled at the
memory of the intimate contact.

“He didn’t kiss you?”

“Oh, he kissed me, all right. It was a trick to get me
to jump.”

“I could think of worse ways to make you jump.”

“I don’t like being tricked.”

“Ah, honey, he did what he had to do.” She ambled
toward Frankie, adjusting the black garment bag over her arm. “Would you rather
he’d shoved you from behind?”

“He couldn’t. I didn’t have any equipment.”

“My point exactly.”

“Don’t try to make sense of this.” Stretching out on
the cot, she pressed the washcloth over her eyes. She sure as heck couldn’t
make sense of this night, this terrifying, horrendous, thrilling night. A part
of her had actually enjoyed certain moments of the show, like when she attacked
Prince Priceless and sent him screaming from the ring. Yes, she was losing her
mind… and perhaps part of her heart?

No, she couldn’t be falling for the tall, dark, and
handsome cowboy-wrestler whose kisses obliterated all sense, all thought. She
was being juvenile. It was just a few kisses, kisses that obviously had no
impact whatsoever on Black Jack Hudson.

This was really about missing her soul mate, her
sturdy and dependable pre-fiancé. The animal lust she felt for Jack wasn’t
real, nor was it a threat to her well-crafted life plan with Bradley.

Too bad Bradley didn’t kiss like that.

She jumped to her feet and paced the small room.
Bradley was perfect, the right choice, the mature choice. He was nothing like
Jack, a man who pretended to beat up other men for a living, a man who planned
to dump this career and wander the countryside like a tumbleweed in a
windstorm, doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

A man who set her body on fire with a single kiss. She
stopped dead in her tracks. “I’m done, Max. I’m leaving tonight and never
coming back.”

“Don’t say that.” The older woman took her by the hand
and coaxed her to the cot.

“I’ve dressed like a freak, performed a suicide jump,
and gotten married to a complete stranger. That’s it. I’m done.”

“Your uncle needs you.” Max squeezed Frankie’s hand
with trembling fingers.

“Mom was right. Uncle Joe is a lost cause.” She
snatched a dark suit from the garment bag and headed for the bathroom.

Max grabbed her by the elbow. “How dare you talk like
that about your uncle? All he ever did was love you and take care of you when
no one else would.”

“Now wait a minute—”

“You owe it to him to do everything in your power to
help.”

“Like marry a complete stranger?” she challenged.
Strange, she never raised her voice to her mother like this. “What’s next? Have
Jack’s child?”

“The marriage is probably bogus. If not, your uncle
will figure out a way to have it annulled.”

“I’m annulling this whole mess right now.” She reached
for the bathroom door.

“He’s going to die,” Maxine’s voice trembled.

Frankie’s hand froze on the doorknob.

“What did you say?” She turned slowly, afraid to see
Max’s expression.

The older woman ambled to the cot and sat down,
interlacing her fingers in her lap. “You heard me. Your uncle’s going to die.”

“Is he sick?”

“No, nothing that minor.”

“Then what?” She sat beside Max.

“Always had to prove himself, be a success. Went too
far this time,” Max mumbled.

“You’re not making sense.”

“Your uncle borrowed money,” she sighed. “From bad
men. They came to the office late one night when no one was around. I heard one
call the other Pugsy. The tall one had a tuba case and a pool cue. The other
guy carried a family of boa constrictors in a burlap sack. The thugs trashed
the place, shouting and threatening your uncle. After they left I found Sully
curled up on top of his desk. Seems the men left one of the snakes as a
reminder they’d be back. The thing must have crawled up into the heating duct.
Couldn’t find him anywhere. Took me an hour to get your uncle off his desk.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I’m not too proud to tell you I’m scared. I’ve seen
enough mob movies to know what they’ll do to Sully. First, he’ll lose his left
pinky then they’ll crush his right kneecap. If he doesn’t cough up the money in
six months they’ll probably—”

“Stop.” She grabbed Max’s hand to comfort her, or
comfort herself, she wasn’t sure. Everything had seemed so normal a week ago.

“He’ll be devastated if he finds out you know,” Max
said.

“He didn’t think I’d notice something was up when he
started tooling around in a wheelchair?”

“Don’t be mad at him.”

“Mad doesn’t even come close.”

Max studied Frankie with those bright blue eyes tinged
with specks of silver. “He loves you so much. He always talked about his smart
little princess, so clever, so precocious. Anyone listening would have thought
you were a genius.”

“Why, Max? Why did he do this?”

“To prove himself.”

“To me?”

“Not just you.”

“Who?”

Max glanced at her fingers. “Doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that? His life is in danger because
of his pride. Does this other person even care about him?”

“Nah, not like he needs to be cared for.” Max
straightened and headed for the door.

Frankie realized that Max had always taken care of
Uncle Joe. She’d watched his back, cleaned up his messes, and even scolded him
when necessary, which was more often than not.

It dawned on Frankie that Maxine loved her uncle.
“Max?”

“I’ll give you privacy to change.” Max shot Frankie a
wavering smile. A touch of sadness colored her eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I’m
a tough old broad.” She closed the door behind her.

Frankie wished she could say the same about herself.
Now she had no choice but to be tough. Her uncle’s life depended on it.

***

“I’ll bet you were behind this.” Jack closed in on
Frankie as she waited for the limo outside the arena’s north entrance.

She held her breath. It had been nearly two hours
since their “wedding” and she could still taste him on her lips. It didn’t help
that he’d changed into hip-hugging jeans and a black T-shirt that spanned his
chest like a second skin.

“You set this up, didn’t you?” he accused.

Was that smoke streaming out of his nostrils?

She struggled to get her wits about her. No longer the
nervous cat bride, she was businesswoman Francine McGee, the only person
standing between her uncle and the Grim Reaper.