Page 31 of A Fighter’s Love

“Er, yes…please, that would be lovely.” Jenny pulled in a breath and studied the two pretty, in-control women on the other side of the table. She wanted to be like them. Have a handle on her life, her desires and her future.

And if that future meant having both Dale and Jackson, then that was something to look forward to very much.

She could only pray the ‘date evening’ would go the way she hoped.

Several hours later, Jenny examined herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom.

After lunch, Sian had said goodbye as she’d had errands to run on her one day off from the tattoo studio where she worked. Jenny was sorry Sian wasn’t shopping with her and Stella. There was something fascinating about her, plus she was fun. Jenny hoped she’d see her again sometime.

But shopping with Stella had turned out to be a fabulous experience. She took Jenny into shops Jenny hadn’t even noticed before. They had brightly dressed windows, rows and rows of quirky, individual clothing, and accessories Jenny hadn’t known existed.

Now standing in a body-hugging pale green dress that accentuated the few curves she had, and strappy silver sandals which were surprisingly comfortable, Jenny was pleased with her new look. Stella had insisted on buying Jenny a ‘good luck’ present—a long necklace with a silver feather on the end. The feather sat just below her breasts and the pendent swung a little when she moved. The whole ensemble was a different style, but not so different it didn’t look like her.

She patted her hair which she’d washed and blow-dried to be a little fluffier than usual, then leaned into the mirror and checked the pretty pink lipstick Stella had recommended. Yes. She’d do. More than do. It was exactly what she’d planned for herself when she’d decided to regain control of her life. Billy would have commented negatively, she was sure, had she worn such a tight dress and glossy lipstick. But it didn’t matter. His opinion wasn’t of concern.

But she did hope Dale and Jackson would approve and they wouldn’t think she’d dressed over the top for dinner. She hadn’t, though, it was perfectly acceptable, just a bit fancier than usual. And as Stella had reminded her, Dale and Jackson had no idea what she wore out for a meal—not that she went out often—so they had nothing to compare it to.

The intercom rang, making her jump. For a moment she stared through to the hallway, then pulled in a breath. They were here. It was time to go. She was ready—ready for whatever they had to say and whatever the night would bring.

With her chin tipped and feeling tall in her heels, she grabbed her purse and headed from the room. “Hello,” she said into the intercom.

“It’s me.” Dale’s voice filled the hallway. “You ready?”

Her chest tightened. “Yes, I’ll be right down.”

“Good.”

He’d sounded a little brisker than usual, his voice sharper.

Quickly, and trying not to let nerves create prickles of dampness in her armpits and cleavage, she locked up and took the elevator.

Stepping out into the sunny evening, she shielded her eyes from the low sun. Dale’s van was nowhere to be seen. She came to a halt beside a shiny black Mercedes.

“Jenny.” From the other side of the Mercedes Jackson appeared, wearing smart black trousers and a fitted black shirt. The sleeves were rolled up a couple of times, showing off his thick forearms and heavy tattoo.

He stepped up to her and his gaze glided down her body. “Wow, you look great.”

“Thank you.” The heat she was trying to avoid swarmed over her skin and she shifted from one foot to the other feeling sure her cheeks were flushing.

“Here, get in.” He pulled open the passenger door. “It’s got air-con.”

“Thanks.” She did as instructed. “Where’s Dale? I heard his voice.”

“I’m here.”

She looked over her right shoulder. Dale was sat in the back wearing a white, open-collared shirt and a plain black lightweight jacket. Shadows sliced over his face and his hands were clasped in his lap.

“We didn’t think the van was appropriate for a date,” he said.

So itwasa date. “I…okay…yes…I suppose.” She closed her mouth and pressed her lips together to stop herself from waffling, but kept her attention on him.

The right side of his mouth tilted into a smile. “I’m glad you agreed to come out with us.”

“Me too.” She nodded. He was slightly hesitant with her, she could tell. What had happened, the kiss, had affected him. She needed to find out in what way and fix it, if she could.

Jackson dropped into the driver’s seat. He wore aftershave, something tangy and masculine, a little peppery too. His stubble was neater than usual, as if he’d made an effort to smarten up. And boy had it worked. The guy was sex on legs, if the muscular, inked, huge sort was the order of the day, which it certainly was for her.

“I’ve booked a table,” Jackson said, pulling into the traffic. “A little French restaurant, not far from here.”

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