Page 13 of Simon Says

Either she’d done her homework or she followed the sport as she’d said. “I agree. I got screwed on that decision.”

“Everyone with any sense thinks so.” She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Most of your wins were notable knockouts with a few incredible submissions thrown in. Since retiring your gloves, you’ve gotten the reputation for being the best trainer around. Anyplace you organize a camp, fighters show up in droves.”

To test her, Simon asked, “You have a theory on why that is?”

“Sure. Too many guys train with repetitive conditioning, eight hours a day, seven days a week.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s a waste of time and energy. Your motto is that they need to train for intense five-minute bouts, because that’s what they’ll be doing.”

“Right.”

Mimicking him, she said, “‘Who cares if he can ride a damn bike uphill for hours on end? When I hit him in the jaw, his bike-riding skills won’t help him at all.’”

Simon laughed. “Yeah, I remember saying something like that.” Bonnie had soured him on involvement, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be a notch on some loony broad’s bedpost. If she was a regular groupie…well, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d handle that. “Did you drop in for an autograph?”

Her smile slipped. “Actually…”

Simon watched as her chest expanded on a nervous breath.

“I came for you.”

Such a sweetheart. Forcing his attention from her breasts back up to her face, Simon held her gaze and said softly, “Not yet, Dakota.”

Confusion darkened the blue of her eyes. She tipped her head. “What?”

“You haven’t come for me…yet.” He still had a lot of work to do, so he headed back to the mat. Over his shoulder, he said, “But stick around, and I can guarantee you will.”

WOW.Dakota watched as Simon ducked under the ropes and reentered the ring. He wore only black nylon kickboxing trunks and four-ounce gloves designed to protect his hands. He didn’t shave his body, thank God, but he did shave his head. It proved one hell of a contrast to his dark chest hair and sexy eyebrows.

Without a doubt, Simon was the most devastating man she’d ever seen.

And that sexual vibe…Dakota made a sound of regret. She wouldn’t mind seeing if he had reason for such bragging, but she didn’t dare get that involved with him. She had to remember that he was Barnaby’s son. Once she delivered him to his father, she didn’t plan to get within ten miles of Barnaby ever again.

Not even for a superhunk like Simon Evans.

After his outrageous prediction, he’d strolled off without giving her the chance to proposition him, so he still didn’t know that his father wanted to reunite with him.

Not a problem, far as Dakota was concerned. Waiting around afforded her the opportunity to watch him work. She’d have paid good money for this, so to get to do it for free was a treat.

Fetching the chair that held her coat and satchel, Dakota seated herself ringside. All three fighters glanced her way, as if awaiting an explanation for her bold intrusion.

Dakota sat back, crossed her legs, and got comfortable. “Go on,” she encouraged. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

The retired champion-turned-trainer, Dean “Havoc” Conor, looked to Simon for instruction. Instead of verbalizing his preferences one way or the other, Simon turned to Gregor Marsh, better known as “the Maniac,” and said, “Let’s go.”

Gregor shrugged his enormous tattooed shoulders and grinned. “Sure thing, Sublime.”

For the next five minutes, they sparred as if they were in a real competition. Dakota scrutinized every move, every countermove, and when they stopped for a break, she again approached the ropes.

“Hey, Gregor?”

The giant looked up from his conversation with Dean. His brows lifted in comical surprise.

“Come here.”

Dean turned to glare at her, letting her know without words that her intrusion was unwanted.

Simon didn’t say anything either. He just tipped up a water bottle and took a long swig.

Reluctantly, Gregor walked over. “What?”

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