7 Days and 7 Nights by Wendy Wax Page B

step away.
    â€œHow long have you been kickboxing?”
    â€œI was only on the amateur circuit for a couple of years.”
    â€œOh. Well. That must be why I’m still alive.” He leaned back so that his shoulders rested against the back of the sofa and drew his knees up in front of him. “How long was I out?”
    It was Olivia’s turn to wince.
    He closed his eyes and sighed. “You don’t need to spare my feelings now, Olivia. The station’s recording the Webcam feed twenty-four hours a day. They’re probably already rerunning the KO in slow motion.”
    â€œYou were only out for about a minute. Not all that long.”
    â€œOh, great. I was afraid this was going to be embarrassing or something.”
    â€œDo you want me to call a doctor?”
    â€œNo, I don’t want you to call a doctor.” He moved as if to stand, but seemed to reconsider. “I thought you were a runner.”
    â€œI was until it got too hard to go out and sweat in public. You’d be surprised what my listeners have decided I should and shouldn’t do.”
    â€œYeah. I bet they feel real good about your ability to tear men apart with your feet. Aren’t people in the helping professions supposed to be nonviolent? I mean, what did you do, get a doctorate in psychology and a master’s in martial arts?”
    The phone rang, eliminating the need for a response, and Olivia left him propped against the couch while she went to answer.
    â€œOh, hello, Charles.” She walked the cordless phone back toward Matt. “No, he’s fine. No, you don’t need to call 911.” She covered the mouthpiece with one hand and looked down at Matt. “He wants to send in the paramedics. Someone told him that might warrant a segment on
Real Life Rescues
.”
    She handed him the phone and then stood beside him to eavesdrop.
    â€œNo, Charles. Don’t call anyone. I’m fine. Olivia just kicked the shit out of my face. It’s no big deal.” He started to grin up at her, but the grin turned into a grimace of pain. He moved the ice to another spot on his jaw. “Yes, if anyone’s going to hurt anyone again, we’ll be sure to call you first.” Matt rolled his eyes, a move that didn’t require the use of his jaw. “Yes, I promise. Yes, I’ll get up off the floor now. Goodbye, Charles.”
    Matt turned the phone off and rose slowly from the carpet. “He wasn’t happy about not being able to promo our altercation, and he doesn’t want me sitting on the floor. Evidently my pain and suffering aren’t visible enough from down here.”
    He walked around to the front of the couch and plopped himself down on it, offering a jaunty wave to the Webcam as he went. “Charles is becoming quite the tyrant, isn’t he?”
    Olivia sat down on the edge of the couch and pressed the ice back against Matt’s jaw. “And why not? He’s got us performing like a couple of trained apes, while he’s out there poking sticks through the bars of our cage.”
    â€œWell, this monkey’s thirsty. How about a cold one from the fridge?”
    â€œI guess I did more damage than I realized. Aren’t your arms and legs working?”
    â€œMy injuries are not all visible. You coldcocked me in front of a live audience. Just think of the dent you put in my masculine pride. We’re talking major emotional pain and suffering.” He kept his expression tragic, but there was an unholy twinkle in his eye. “I’d say you owe me some special treatment.”
    Olivia went to the refrigerator and extracted a Newcastle, which she presented to him with a flourish. “For you, Your Injured Highness.”
    Matt took a long pull on the beer. “Ahh, I think I feel my wounds beginning to mend already.” He took another sip and set the bottle on the table beside him as Olivia turned to go. “But I also hear my