Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3) by Jeanette Murray Page B

Finally.
    Then there were two. She rocked back on her heels, clutching her tote as a lifeline. Otherwise, she might embarrass herself by clawing at his chest and trying to rip his T-shirt off. The man shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothing. It was criminal to cover up that much perfection. “You, uh . . . you did really . . . good.”
    Brilliant, Kara. And next, you can make a lackluster comment about the weather.
    He grinned slowly, those sinful lips curving to reveal bright white teeth. “Thanks. The competition felt pretty great. Hope we’re ready for the All Military games.”
    â€œYou look ready. You looked amazing.” She blinked as his eyes darkened. “I mean, your boxing. You know, your . . . bam. Pow.”
    Oh, my God. I just said that. Someone please direct me to the nearest hole in which I could crawl into.
    He chuckled softly. “I know what you meant. And youlook amazing, too.” He stepped closer to her, taking a gentle hold of her elbow. “Pow,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
    She turned her head at the last minute, chickening out. Zach was in the car, probably staring. She didn’t . . . she couldn’t . . .
    Oh, hell. She was going to. When he started to pull back, she rose up on her toes and brushed a light kiss across his mouth. He didn’t push, didn’t press for more. But the way his breath hitched, just a little, told her he was affected.
    â€œWe have to get going.” When he didn’t release her arm, she made a flapping motion. “I need that to drive.”
    â€œRight. Sorry.” He stepped back, letting go to run a hand over his hair. “Have dinner with me.”
    â€œZach is still grounded,” she began, but he cut her off.
    â€œJust us. I need to see you.”
    â€œI . . .” Ah, hell. This was not going to end well. “I’ll think about it.”
    â€œDon’t think. Just say yes. Tomorrow night. We’ve been given Monday morning off, so Sunday’s a good night for grilling. Please.”
    â€œI’ll think about it,” she said again, because saying no when he was standing in front of her was impossible. “Congratulations.” She ran for the driver’s side, opening the door before he could try to do it for her and sliding in. As she closed the door and sighed, Zach leaned forward between the seats from the back.
    â€œMom? Were you kissing Graham?”
    â€œAdults kiss people they’re close to,” she said neutrally, watching Graham walk back toward the gym doors.
    â€œHow close are you?”
    Getting closer every day, whether it was right ornot.

CHAPTER
    8
    G raham settled down in his reclining love seat, a beer in his lap, and handled his phone. The device flipped from hand to hand, rolled over fingers and mesmerized his turned-off brain . . . until he dropped it and it clattered to the floor.
    Another super Sunday night for him. He could call friends, though most had lives of their own and would be busy on Sunday. His teammates could possibly make it, but they each had their own women to be home with, or had already made plans to fully utilize their morning off tomorrow. Didn’t seem fair to drag them away from their happy cocoons to come wallow with him.
    He could call Kara.
    That caused him to grimace and take another swig. Yeah. Because punishing himself was a top priority. Why would he call just to get rejected—again—for dinner? He’d asked, and she’d hedged. Because she was too polite to come right out and say “No, now stop asking.” The fact that she hadn’t called him meant it was a definite no.
    Time to move on.
    Yeah. Right.
    His phone vibrated on the floor, and he nearly pitched himself out of the recliner struggling to pick it up. When he saw Greg’s name on the display with the text, he grunted and nearly let it drop again. But he swiped a