Jamieson Kelly- Major Misconduct (Aces Hockey #1)

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Major Misconduct is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. A Loveswept eBook Original Copyright © 2015 by Kelly Jamieson Excerpt from Off Limits by Kelly Jamieson copyright © 2015 by Kelly Jamieson All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New Y ork. LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Off Limits by Kelly Jamieson. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition. eBook ISBN 9781101887219 Cover design: Diane Luger Cover photograph: Gerber86/istock readloveswept.com v4.1 ep

Contents Cover Title Page Copyright

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23

Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Epilogue Dedication By Kelly Jamieson About the Author The Editor’s Corner Excerpt from Off Limits

Chapter 1 “Oh my God. What have you done now?” Lovey frowned, her cellphone held to her ear. “What kind of greeting is that?” Her brother, Duncan, sighed. Lovey beamed at the taxi driver as he hauled her last suitcase into the condominium lobby on East Monroe Street in the Chicago Loop. She shifted the phone away as she handed him some folded bills so she wasn’t speaking to Duncan.

“Thank you so much.” He smiled back at her. “Sure you don’t want me to help get them up to your condo?” “No, that’s fine. My brother and his roommate are big strong guys. They’ll help me with things.” She heard a faint snort on the phone. “Thank you again for your help.” He nodded and chilly air rushed into the lobby as he opened the door and walked out. “Where are you, Lovey?” Duncan asked. “I’m standing in your lobby!” She turned a circle in the elegant lobby, taking in the arrangement of

modern furniture and huge potted plants, winter sunshine flooding through tall windows. “I’m here to stay with you.” “Uh…why?” She briefly bit her bottom lip. “Just felt like coming to see my big brother in the big city.” Silence. “Lovey…” “Can you come down and help me with my luggage?” Another audible exhalation. “I’ll be right down.” Lovey smiled. “Thanks, Dunc.” She ended the call and dropped her phone into her purse. She grabbed

her suitcases, but with her purse over her shoulder, her carry-on balanced precariously on top of one case, and both of the pieces of luggage huge and heavy, she struggled across the pale stone-tiled floor toward the elevators in her high-heeled boots. Then the carryon slipped, pulling her off balance, tipping the suitcase. She released the other one and fought for control of the weighty beast, purse falling off her shoulder, throwing her even more off balance. “Oh, for the love of cheese.” Her hair fell across her face and she began to sweat. The sweater

and wool pants were appropriate for Chicago in October, but inside the warm lobby, fighting with uncooperative luggage, she was getting hot. Also high-heeled boots were stylish but not exactly helpful when wrestling suitcases. She was just getting the suitcase righted when the elevator doors slid open. Then her other suitcase topped over with a bang. Duncan strolled out, taking in her flustered state with a long-suffering bigbrother look. Lovey pushed her hair back and straightened, bestowing one of her highest-wattage smiles on her

brother. She threw out her arms and rushed at him for a hug. “Hey! So good to see you!” He hugged her back, then with a shake of his head and a reluctant smile he set her away from him. “Good to see you too, Lovey. Still not sure what the hell you’re doing here…” He surveyed her luggage. “With apparently your entire wardrobe.” He lifted an eyebrow. “But come on up.” He grabbed her suitcases, including the carry-on, and headed back into the waiting elevator. Lovey slung her purse over her shoulder and tapped along behind

him. Easy for him. Big bro was an NHL hockey player—six foot two, two hundred pounds, big muscles everywhere. One corner of her mouth kicked up. There were advantages to having a brother who was big. Really big. And strong. The doors slid closed and Duncan punched the button for the fourteenth floor. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. “Those suitcases weigh a ton.” “How the hell did you get on the plane with them? And from the airport to here.” She shrugged. “There were always people around offering to help.”

“Guys.” She blinked. “Well. Yeah.” He shook his head, lips twitching. “What’s with the beard?” She touched her own chin with thumb and forefinger. “You look like a mountain man. I thought you only grew a beard during playoffs.” He shrugged. “I got tired of shaving.” “Duncan! Eew. No woman is going to find that attractive.” “Whatever.” “And it’s freezing here! Why is it so cold here?” “It’s forty degrees,” Duncan said

dryly. “And probably not much colder than Madison.” “But it’s windy. It is the Windy City.” “Chicago is no windier than any other city.” She frowned. “But it’s called the Windy City.” “That apparently has to do with the long-windedness of Chicago politicians.” “Huh.” She tipped her head. “Really? But it is windy today. I’m sure hundred-mile-an-hour winds.” He grinned. “Yeah, Lovey, it’s windy.”

The doors opened and he let her exit first, but she paused, unsure which way to go. It was the first time she’d visited him since he’d bought this super lux condo that had to have cost a gazillion dollars. Nice to have that kind of money. She’d felt a few twinges of guilt about arriving unannounced to stay with him, but she kept reminding herself his condo was huge. He did have a roommate, but still, there were three bedrooms, so she wouldn’t be putting anyone out. She’d be sure to stay out of their way. Not interfere with their game day routines. She’d clean up after

herself. He led them into his condo and she swept her gaze around, taking it all in. “This is gorgeous! Holy cheeseits, Dunc!” He grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” Wide-plank hardwood floors stained a dark chocolate color stretched all through the unit. Big windows let in bright golden sunshine. She lifted an eyebrow at the exercise equipment in the dining room instead of a table and chairs. Two big brown leather couches and a couple of oversized

chairs were centered on a patterned rug in the living room, a big square table in the middle. She walked through and turned to the kitchen. Creamy cupboards and granite countertops formed a U-shape around a substantial island with a couple of stools at the end of it. She blinked at the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles littering the counter, then turned away with a shrug. “This is amazing.” She shook her head. “How much did you pay for this place? I’m guessing five million.” He laughed. “Not even close.”

“How much?” “Not telling you.” She frowned. “Why not?” “None of your business, li’l sis.” He leaned against the island and crossed his arms. “Now tell me what you’re doing here.” She swallowed her sigh. “I’m moving to Chicago.” He choked. “What?” She lifted one shoulder. “I decided there’s not enough for me in Madison. I’m moving here. I want to live in a big city. There are more career opportunities.” “Did you get fired again?”

“No!” She frowned. “No, I did not.” He waited. She pursed her lips. “I quit.” He shook his head. “Why, Lovey? I thought it was a great job.” “It was okay.” “Then why did you quit?” She avoided his eyes and wandered back into the living room. “It wasn’t my dream job.” He snorted and followed her. “Dream job?” She whirled around. “You have your dream job! Why shouldn’t I?” She knew he wouldn’t

understand. Growing up, everyone had known he was going to make it big. His hockey talent had been evident from an early age, and their parents had dedicated their lives to helping him achieve his dreams. Lovey, on the other hand, hadn’t even had a dream. She’d never begrudged Duncan his success. She was proud of her brother. He’d worked hard his whole life to achieve what he had and he totally deserved it. But there had been times she’d wished she had some kind of super talent that would make everyone proud of her. “You’re giving me the gears

before I’m barely in the door. Not cool, Dunc.” His lips quirked as if he was repressing another smile. He gestured to one of the brown leather couches. “Sit down.” She sank into the couch and crossed her legs. Duncan sat across from her. “You don’t quit a perfectly good job just because it’s not your dream job, Lovey. If you don’t like it, you look around for something else and then you quit.” “Not if you’re moving to Chicago. I had to quit so I could move here. I’ll find something here, I’m sure.”

Duncan thought she was a flighty, impetuous screwup who’d quit a good job and moved to another state on a whim. And she wasn’t about to set him straight on that, because…it was true. Well, to a certain extent it was true. But she didn’t want to tell him about her goals and dreams because…because she wasn’t entirely sure she could do this…and she didn’t want him saying “I told you so” if she failed. She pushed down her misgivings and smiled at him. “I just need a place to stay for a while.” “You can’t stay here.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What? Why not? You’ve got tons of room! Look at this place.” She sat up straight and swept an arm out. “Fifty billion square feet, probably ten bathrooms…” “Two and a half,” he corrected. “And three bedrooms. And it’s only two thousand square feet. Not fifty billion,” he added in a muttered tone. “Only two thousand. As if one guy needs that much space.” “I have a roommate,” he reminded her. “Two of the three bedrooms are occupied and the third has no furniture.”

She frowned and sank back into the couch. “Oh. Well. That doesn’t matter. I’ll just sleep on the floor until we can get me a bed.” “We’re not getting you a bed.” “Hey, Army, what time are we heading out?” a deep male voice interrupted them. “Oh. Hey.” Lovey’s head snapped around at the unfamiliar voice and then her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. The guy standing across the room wore a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else. Sweet cheese-its, he was hot. Even more muscular than Duncan, he was about the same

height. Short brown hair stood in messy spikes on top, and the same golden-brown stubble lay over his chiseled jaw and upper lip. His lips were thinnish but nicely shaped, his eyes a beautiful sky blue color she could see from here, framed with thick eyelashes. Her gaze tracked over bulky shoulders and arms, a chest that was slabs of muscle and smooth golden skin, a freakin’ eight-pack of abs that literally made her want to drool, then down over the blue boxer shorts sitting low on lean hips, to his bare legs. She blinked at the size of his thighs and the

delineation of the massive muscles bulging above his knees. His calves were also strong, covered with more dark gold hair. His long, sinewy bare feet stood on the bare wood floor. She lifted her gaze back up to his face and smiled. “Hi.” He blinked, his expression not changing. “Uh. Hi.” He glanced at Duncan. “Sorry, man, didn’t know you had someone here.” He took a step back. “Dude, go put some clothes on. This is my little sister.” The guy’s eyes flickered. “Oh. Shit. Be right back.”

“Wait!” Lovey rose and legged it across the carpet in her heels, hand outstretched. “I’m Lovey. It’s nice to meet you; you must be Duncan’s roommate. Marc, right?” He took another step back but she kept going. He shoved a hand out, maybe to stop her. She grabbed it to shake it. “Yeah. Marc.” The faint inflection in the way he said it was…sexy. “You’re French.” Her smile broadened. “Yeah.” He gave her a quick handshake, then released her hand and took two more steps away. “Marc Dupuis. I’ll, uh, be back.”

He disappeared down the hall and she admired the back view. Whoa. Wide at the shoulders, muscled back, deep grooves down the middle that disappeared into the low waistband of the boxers, which did not hide a very firm ass. She gave a sigh of pleasure. “Lovey.” She blinked and turned to look at her brother. “That’s why you can’t stay here. This is a bachelor home. You can’t live here with two guys.” She frowned. “Why not?” His eyebrows flew up. “We walk around half-dressed sometimes. We

don’t want to have to be worried about covering up.” She grinned. “Don’t worry on my account. You…phht.” She waved a hand and rolled her eyes. “He can walk around naked anytime he wants.” “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Duncan rubbed his face. “We drink beer. We make a mess. Well, I do,” he amended. “We party. Lotta the other guys hang out here too.” She shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m not used to your friends hanging out.” He’d played hockey all through high school—well, all his life, basically—and there’d always

been a bunch of guys crowding up their Columbia County dairy farmhouse. “We have girls over.” He gave her a meaningful look. She laughed, flopping down on the couch again. “I should hope so.” “You’re not going to be comfortable here.” She looked around. “I think I could be very comfortable here.” She gave a nod. “This is a gorgeous place to live. Nice view too.” In the distance Lake Michigan was a haze of blue. “Fuck,” Duncan muttered.

Marc reappeared, now fully dressed, sadly. Although with clothes on he still looked amazeballs hot. “Sorry about that. Didn’t know you were here, uh, Lovey.” She beamed at him. “No problem. Duncan was more freaked-out than I was.” Duncan rolled his eyes. Lovey studied Marc in his clothes —low-rise faded jeans that had to be specially made to fit loosely over those massive thighs, and a longsleeve black T-shirt. She let out another brief sigh. He moved to perch on one of the

stools at the big island, then stopped as he took in the mess in the kitchen. With a head shake, he began to clean up, tossing cold pizza into the trash, loading empty beer bottles into cartons. “This place is gross.” Duncan shrugged and leaned back. “You knew that when you moved in. Don’t get all pissy. You don’t have to clean up.” “I know, I know.” Marc stacked empty pizza boxes into a blue recycling box. “Just can’t stand the fucking mess.” Duncan grinned. “That’s your problem.”

Lovey looked back and forth between them. Duncan was a slob, no doubt about it. Mom had pulled her hair out trying to teach him to clean up after himself. Apparently none of it had sunk in. Marc, on the other hand…seemed to have learned well. Or maybe he was a neat freak. Nothing wrong with that. Not at all. Especially when he looked that good while cleaning up. “Okay, back to the topic at hand,” Duncan said. “You can’t stay here.” Still watching Marc, Lovey saw his head snap up.

“I have to stay here, Dunc. Where else am I going to go?” He cursed under his breath. “But I told you, there’s nowhere for you to sleep.” “Uh…she can have my bed,” Marc offered. Lovey beamed at him. “That’s so sweet of you.” “She can’t have your fucking bed,” Duncan snapped. “Where the hell are you going to sleep?” Marc shrugged. “Couch?” “I’ll sleep on the couch.” Duncan gave a gusty sigh. “One night. One night only. After that, you have to

stay in a hotel or something, Lovey.” “I can’t afford a hotel!” She gaped at him. “D’you think my last job paid me multi-millions of dollars like yours does?” “Quit throwing my money in my face.” He slumped into the couch with a scowl. “I’m not throwing it in your face.” She blinked. “I’m just pointing out what should be obvious…my marketing job for Kleinheinz Cheese did not pay enough for me to be able to afford to stay in a pricey Chicago hotel indefinitely.” “You have enough to rent an

apartment, don’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Um…I have a little money. I sold my car.” “Lovey…” “Duncan.” They glared at each other in one of their famous sibling standoffs. She lifted her chin. As usual, she won. “Fine,” he muttered. “Stay here until you get on your feet. But it better not be long. And you better not be in our way.” “Thanks, Dunc.” She smiled. “I promise I won’t be. You won’t even

know I’m here.” “Why do I doubt that?” Duncan shook his head. She looked over at Marc and saw he was grinning at the counter he was wiping. Cheese whiz, he was gorgeous! Even more so when he smiled. Earlier he’d been so straight-faced and serious. A little curl of lust warmed her inside. “We need to get going.” Marc looked at her brother, the grin now absent. “Gotta get to the dealership.” “Yeah. Okay.” Duncan gave her a narrow-eyed look as he rose from

the couch. “I’m buying a new vehicle. Gotta go sign the papers and pick it up.” “Oooh. What kind?” “Land Rover.” “Duncan! You can’t drive a truck in Chicago!” “It’s not a truck, for fuck’s sake.” She made a face. “If you say so. I’ll unpack and get settled in. Hey, could you pick me up a bed on your way home?” He bugged his eyes out at her and she laughed. “Kidding! We can do that tomorrow.” “What about the stuff from your apartment in Madison? Where’s

that?” “Storage. I’ll get it shipped here when I find my own place.” “You mean you actually do intend to find your own place?” “Uh…yeah.” She gave him a “duh” look. “I can’t stay with you forever. Although, I could get some of the stuff shipped here…my bedroom set. And…” She glanced at his dining room full of weights. “You could use a dining table and chairs.” “Fuck no. I mean…I’ll help you find a nice apartment.” “Sure. As long as you don’t mind sleeping on the couch until I do.”

He groaned and she heard a laugh from the kitchen. She looked back at Marc and their eyes met. His gleamed with mirth and she felt that little kick of lust again. He grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Army taken out so easily. This is hilarious.” Duncan scowled. “Shut the fuck up, Duper.” Her eyes met Marc’s and held again and she grinned back at him, trying (but failing) to ignore the flip of lust and attraction low in her belly. He looked at her long enough that she knew he felt it too. Well, she certainly hadn’t

anticipated something like this. She’d come to Chicago to move on with her life. Things with Richard had gotten serious enough that she’d been scared spitless; scared enough to break up with him, quit her job, pack up all her belongings, and run. She had a plan, figured there’d be lots of opportunities in Chicago, and was going to get right on that, first thing Monday morning. She hadn’t planned on living with a hot hockey player with a body that could turn a girl to a puddle of lust…but this was going to be fun!

Chapter 2 Marc chuckled all the way to the Land Rover dealership, annoying the hell out of his teammate and roommate. “What the fuck is so amusing?” Army snarled. “If she wasn’t your sister, I’d call you pussy-whipped.” “Fuck off.” Marc laughed outright. “Just never seen you so outclassed, dude.” “Whatever.”

Marc smirked. “What am I supposed to do?” Army demanded. “Turn her out onto the streets of Chicago?” “Of course not. And she knew that.” “She didn’t even tell me she was coming.” Duncan rubbed his forehead. “Christ. She quit her job. Just when she seemed to be settling down. Last I heard, she had a pretty serious boyfriend too. Guess that’s over.” A boyfriend? Not fucking likely, the way she’d been looking at him. Marc shot Army a sideways glance as he drove. “She does this often?”

“Eh. She quits. She gets fired. She flits from one job to another like a fucking hummingbird. One boyfriend to another. This guy she was seeing actually lasted more than a few dates. Now all of a sudden she wants to move to Chicago. Jesus.” “She’s young.” “She’s not that young. She’s twenty-four. Only three years younger than us. She needs to settle down.” Marc nodded. “Yeah, but think, man, we were on our own when we were teenagers, basically. We were playing and living in an adult world

before we could even drink legally. Pro hockey makes you grow up fast.” Army sighed. “Yeah. True. Heh. Especially you, Captain Codger.” Marc rolled his eyes at the nickname. It didn’t bug him as much as it had at first. He knew the guys liked to jerk him around, but they did it with respect. And he’d earned the reputation of being serious and responsible, on the ice and off. That was him, and it was important to him to take his career and his responsibilities seriously. Army shook his head. “I’ll let her stay for a while, but seriously, she’ll

have to find her own place. Don’t worry.” Marc shrugged. “I wasn’t worried.” That wasn’t entirely true. Army’s little sister was smokin’ hot. At first Marc had thought his roommate had a hot chick visiting him and he’d been all Whoa, way to go, dude, but when he’d learned she was Army’s sister, he’d backpedaled fast. He couldn’t get out of there before she’d jumped up and rushed at him with a fucking dazzling smile, so goddamn gorgeous he couldn’t get his feet to move and could barely string two words

together. Her smile was luminous, all white teeth and dimples and glowing face. Long, wavy red-gold hair gleamed in the sunlight and, fuck him, even though she’d been wearing clothes that covered her from chin to toes, her body was stellar—a soft blue sweater outlined high, firm tits and a small waist that curved into round hips. He couldn’t see her legs, but they were long, her snug black pants revealing slender thighs. Shut it down, man. She was Army’s sister and therefore waaaay the fuck offlimits.

And that was why he was maybe a little worried about her living with them. Just a smidgen worried. But hey. He was Captain Codger. He had no issues with self-control, selfdiscipline, or being responsible. He could easily ignore a hot babe living in the apartment with them. No problem. No problem at all. Army’s phone pinged and he peered at the screen. “Great. An email from my mom warning me Lovey’s on her way. Thanks, Mom.” He shook his head as he tapped a reply. “She wants me to make sure Lovey’s okay in the big city. Jesus.” Yeah, Lovey seemed like she was

going to be okay. They arrived at the dealership and while Army signed the paperwork, Marc wandered around looking at the vehicles, trying to ignore the attention from the staff, male and female. The receptionist approached him for an autograph. “You’re my favorite player.” She let out a breathy laugh. “I watch all the games.” “Yeah?” He obliged by scrawling his messy signature across the Land Rover pamphlet she held out, adding his jersey number beneath it. “You watch that last game against Philly?”

“Of course! You guys played great.” He stuck his tongue into one cheek and nodded. “Thanks.” They’d sucked. They’d lost three-one, probably their worst game so far, another game added to their losing streak. “D’you speak French?” Her eyes widened. “Mais oui.” He grinned. “That is soooo sexy.” She stared at him. Câlisse. He resisted the urge to sigh and smiled instead. “Merci.” “I love your accent.”

He wanted to frown. He barely had an accent. He’d been raised by a Francophone mother and Anglophone father, and although his education had been all in French growing up in Quebec, he spoke both languages fluently. Maybe there was a bit of an accent. Whatever. “Hey, Armdog,” he called to his friend. “I’m gonna head out. Meet you at the Sin Bin?” “Yeah. Be there soon.” The Sin Bin was a restaurant/bar owned by one of their teammates, Jared Rupp. They often hung out there with other Aces players.

Friday night, no game, afternoon practice, they’d all planned to head there for food and drinks. Army would meet him there, driving in his sweet new ride. Marc had to smile at Army’s choice. You could take the boy out of the farm, but you couldn’t take the farm out of the boy. Army had grown up on a dairy farm in the heart of Wisconsin, feeding and milking cows. He was a total redneck, wearing a camo baseball cap backward, dressed in faded jeans and boots, and had recently grown a heavy beard. He liked to fish and hunt and spend time in the

great outdoors, and living in Chicago had driven him nuts at first. Even now, he still got antsy surrounded by skyscrapers and concrete and glittery lights. Apparently Lovey Armstrong had grown up on the same dairy farm. You’d never know it to look at her, though. Other than the sprinkle of faint freckles over her nose and cheeks, she looked all city girl, with bright hair parted in the middle and curling over her shoulders, shiny lips, and stylish clothes, including sexy high-heeled boots…yeah, she was no redneck. Or whatever the female term for redneck was.

Wasn’t there a song about a redneck woman…Whatever. That was clearly not her. Marc headed downtown, where Rupper’s restaurant was located. The place was super popular, especially since the Aces had won the Stanley Cup two years ago. Lots of puck bunnies hoping to run into hockey players. Nothing wrong with that. More important, the food was fantastic and it was a fun place, so it wasn’t just people hanging out to meet hockey players, it was actually a well-respected Chicago restaurant. He walked into the Sin Bin and turned left to enter the bar,

unwrapping his scarf from around his neck. Voices filled the room along with a tune by Imagine Dragons. Marc’s eyes swept the room and spotted teammate and owner of the bar Jared Rupp, aka the Ruppinator. Or just Rupper. Or GQ, since he was always all duded up. Rupper stood at a tall table where four women sat on stools. They were all gazing raptly at him as he talked, and as Marc approached the table, he caught smiles, a lot of hair flipping, and then laughter. Rupper was such a womanizer. Rupper flashed a smile, then

spotted Marc as he neared the table. “Dupe! Get over here, man.” All four female heads swiveled to look at him and four flirty smiles beamed at him in recognition. He grinned in return. “Hey, Rupper.” All the women were pretty, dressed professionally, apparently there for happy hour after work. “Marc Dupuis.” A sophisticated blonde spoke up in a husky voice. “Team captain. Nice to meet you. I’m Angel.” She extended a hand and Marc found himself shaking hands with a beautiful woman for the second time that day, and then three more times as each of Angel’s

friends introduced themselves. “I was just telling them about that time Pilker and Hughie ordered breakfast for me and Stoykers on a road trip.” Rupper grinned. Marc gave a brief eye roll. “Kids these days.” They’d arrived at the hotel in New York at two in the morning, and Pilker and Hughie had filled out a room service card requesting breakfast, enough for ten guys—eggs, three kinds of juice, sausages, bacon, cereal, fruit—to be served in the room at six a.m.—and hung the card on Rupper and goalie Brent Stoyko’s door. They’d been so pissed to be woken up that early,

when they didn’t have a meeting until eleven, not to mention they had to foot the bill for the entire breakfast feast. Marc had never been big into the jokes and pranks some of the other guys pulled. Unfortunately that often meant he was the victim of such pranks, like the nearly-cutthrough skate laces that snapped when he yanked on them, or the cup of water in the shin pads on the upper shelf in his locker that hit him in the face when he pulled his shin pads down. Har. At least he’d never been rolled up in a mattress, duct-taped, and sent to the lobby in

the hotel elevator like Benny. “Where’s Army?” Rupper asked. “Left him at the dealership. He should be here any minute.” He explained to the women, “Duncan Armstrong. He just bought a new vehicle.” “Need a beer?” Rupper asked. “Whatcha want? Moens lager? Or Pale Ale?” “Pale Ale.” Rupper left to get it. Moens Breweries was part owner and sponsor of the Chicago Aces. Nobody’d ever told them they had to drink Moens beer but it was pretty much understood. Good

thing he liked it. He chatted with the four women. Rupper returned with his beer and rejoined them, and it wasn’t long before Army arrived, followed by Aces goaltender Brent Stoyko and their newest team member, Andrew Ross, who’d been traded to them from the LA Kings at the end of last season. They pulled over another table and more stools. Marc found himself beside Angel, who engaged him in a side conversation about his hockey background. She gave him a flirty look. “So are you seeing anyone right now?” “Nope.” He took a pull of his beer.

Since Marissa had dumped his ass six months ago, he was single and free, free to flirt and pick up chicks and bang their brains out for one night. Eh. Too bad that wasn’t really his style. The truth was, he’d been pretty settled down with Marissa. They’d been together three years, and lived together for nearly two of those. He’d been thinking about asking her to marry him. And then, wham, she’d cut him loose, because he wasn’t romantic enough, for Chrissakes, and he still felt kind of…adrift. Or something. “I’m single too.” Angel smiled.

He studied her, with her sleek hair and perfect makeup. He wasn’t gonna lie, he’d had some hookups, trying to forget Marissa, or sometimes just because he was horny. He drank more beer. What the hell. Maybe this was one of those nights. He could take Angel to his place—his mind screeched to a halt, remembering the woman staying there. Crap. He focused his attention back on Angel and their conversation. She was coming on strong now, and he knew he could have her in his bed

no problem…Wait. Was he supposed to be sleeping on the couch? No, Army’d said he would sleep on the couch. Okay, this could still work… And then a soft lilting voice said from behind him, “Hi, guys!” He turned to see the source of his distraction—Lovey Armstrong. She beamed that radiant smile, standing there in a bright red jacket, her purse over her shoulder. Her eyes shifted to Angel beside him, very close beside him, leaning in so her breasts almost brushed his arm, and Lovey’s eyes flickered, but the

smile remained in full force. “Hey, Lovey.” Army moved around the table toward his sister. “You made it.” Marc looked at Army with a raised eyebrow. Army caught the look and shrugged, then took Lovey’s arm and drew her forward. “You remember Jared, right? And I think you’ve met Brent. And this is Andrew Ross.” “Yes. Hi! Nice to see you again. Nice to meet you.” She greeted the other two guys, then introductions were made of the girls. Army moved nearer to Marc. “I had to invite her,” he muttered in

his ear. “She was sitting in the condo all alone.” Marc rubbed his tongue over his top teeth to keep from smiling. She didn’t even have to do anything and her big brother was twisted around her little finger. He watched as she greeted the other women with the same smile and pleasure she’d displayed for the guys. “Love your suit,” she said to Sadie. “Is it Marc Jacobs?” “Yeah, it is. Thanks.” “Looks great on you.” Her approving nod gave her comment a sincere warmth and Sadie looked

pleased. “What would you like to drink?” Stoykers asked her. “I’m going to the bar.” “I’ll go.” Andrew Ross, known as Rosser, shoved the goalie with a big shoulder. “No, man, it’s okay, I got it.” Rosser frowned. Army gave them both his raised-eyebrows look of displeasure. “Oh.” Lovey studied the drinks on the table and pointed at Angel’s drink. “What’s that?” “A pineapple margarita.” “Oooh…is it good?”

“Fabulous.” Lovey beamed. “Okay, I’ll have one of those.” Stoykers disappeared into the crowd. With the owner of the restaurant at their table, they’d been getting great service. Lovey could wait a few minutes for a waitress to show up. Neither Stoykers nor Rosser had to rush off to get her a drink, for Chrissakes. They were practically brawling over who was going to look after her. “Thanks for calling.” Lovey poked Army’s shoulder. “It’s so nice to meet more of your friends.” And her smile radiated at everyone around

the table. Marc nearly choked on his beer. Since this was the first time they’d ever laid eyes on these women, they could hardly call them friends. But whatever. From two tables away, he watched her start a conversation with Sadie and Jenna, smilingly accept her drink from Brent when he returned, then laugh at something he said. Stoykers stood beside her stool rather than return to his own, joining in the chat with the other women. “Is your name actually Lovey?” Sadie asked. “Or is that short for

something?” Lovey grimaced. “It’s short for Lovina. Apparently it was my Grandma Heywood’s name. I hated being called Lovey as a kid—you can imagine the grief I got. But Lovina’s not much better.” “It’s sweet,” Jenna said. “Thank you.” “Uh…Marc?” Marc blinked and turned to Angel. “Yeah?” She tipped her head to one side. “I just asked when your next home game is.” “Oh. Uh…tomorrow night.”

“Oh wow. I’d love to go.” His gaze was drawn back to Lovey as she laughed, flipping her hair back and smiling at Brent, then picking up her drink to take a sip. She leaned closer to Sadie and said something in her ear, which made the other woman smile. You’d think they’d been best friends for years. What was it about her? “Marc?” Once more he looked at Angel. She gave him a crooked smile. “You want to move down there?” She jerked her head toward Lovey. “Uh…no. Sorry.” He shook his head. Damn, he was being rude.

“Gotta hit the men’s room. Be right back.” He slid off his stool and made his way through a door and down a short hall to the men’s room. Shit. He could not be lusting after Army’s little sister. That was all kinds of wrong. All kinds of trouble. He needed to get his shit together and ignore her. Especially since they were sharing an apartment for the next…who the hell knew how long. When he returned to the table he discovered everyone was looking at menus, preparing to order food. This was good. He was starving. He didn’t even need to look at the

menu to know what he wanted—call him predictable, but he ordered the same burger—the Chicago Cowboy with spicy barbecue sauce, bacon, sautéed onions, and cheddar cheese —every time he ate there. Rupper kept nagging him to try something different, but he knew what he liked. His eyes were drawn back to Lovey again, as she kept asking Rupper questions about the menu. “So what kinds of cheeses are on the Cheese-lovers’ burger?” She flashed him a dimpled smile. “I’m a knowledgeable cheese girl.” “Jack, cheddar, and Swiss.”

She pursed her lips, eyes moving over the menu. “I don’t know…” “Do you like things spicy?” Rupper asked her. Her lips twitched up. “I do like things spicy.” Flirt. Rupper laughed. “Good to know. How about spicy food?” She grinned. “Yeah, that too.” “Then I suggest the Cajun burger.” “Okay.” She slapped her menu shut. “Done.” Several baskets appeared on the table, compliments of Rupper—

sweet potato fries, fries tossed with truffle oil and sea salt, onion rings, and deep-fried vegetables. Everyone helped themselves as they placed their orders. Marc was trying to ignore Lovey, he really was, but the next time he glanced her way, she was looking at him. Like, really looking at him. And she didn’t let her gaze bounce away, like sometimes happens when you get caught staring at someone. She smiled in a way that squeezed up her eyes and shot heat straight to his gut, then lifted her drink to him in a little toast. He couldn’t stop himself from

smiling back. She was just so damn appealing. Apparently Angel had given up on him and had shifted in her chair to talk more to Stoykers and Jenna. On his other side, Army chatted with Rupper. Marc glanced at Lovey again. She was watching him again, smiling. Then she slid off her stool, picked up her second pineapple margarita, and moved toward him. Fuck. Nowhere to run. Why did he want to run? Jesus. She was Duncan’s sister. Sacrament, he could at least be nice to her. She seemed nice. Maybe a little flaky. Flighty. Absolutely not

the kind of woman he was usually interested in. He almost rolled his eyes at the thought. Marissa had been way different…a mature, stable woman who took her banking career seriously, carefully planned each move, knew what she wanted and how she was going to get there. But then again, she’d ditched him because he wasn’t romantic enough. It still boggled his mind that she’d wanted romance. Apparently he was supposed to send her roses and take her on a horsedrawn fucking carriage ride downtown. She was so smart and

mature and career-oriented, he’d had no clue she wanted sappy shit like that. Lovey slipped in between him and Angel. Angel glanced at Lovey, lifted her eyebrows, then turned back to Brent. “Hey,” Lovey said, leaning on the table. “You look left out.” Great. He repressed a grimace. Nice to appear pathetic. “Nah,” he said. “Having fun?” “Yes!” She leaned closer and he caught a whiff of her scent…for some reason, she smelled like cupcakes. Delicious. “This is a great restaurant. Army brought me here

last time I visited him in Chicago.” “That when you met Jared?” “Yeah.” She nodded, smiling. “And Brent. And a couple of other guys…but not you.” Her forehead creased. “Maybe you were busy.” “When was that?” “Ummm…I came for a weekend last spring. First round of the playoffs.” “Yeah. Well, I don’t go out a lot during the playoffs.” “Ah.” She nodded. “Right. Duncan said you’re very focused.” He’d also had a girlfriend who’d been very focused on spending time

together. But he didn’t say that. “He calls you Captain Codger.” Lovey tipped her head. “What does that even mean?” He sighed. “I have a reputation for being serious about my game. My career. The guys figure I’m an old man.” “Oh.” She gave him a look, one corner of her mouth kicking up, one eyebrow lifted. “That sounds… admirable.” “You mean boring.” He’d heard it before. From Marissa, among others. “I didn’t say that.”

“You were totally thinking it.” She grinned. “Captain Codger, you have a little complex, I think.”

Chapter 3 Marc frowned. “I do not have a complex.” “No?” Lovey studied him. He totally did. Why was that? “So you’re not boring?” “I like to have fun as much as the next guy.” “Unless it’s playoff season.” His eyebrows jerked together again but he caught her eye and seemed to realize she was teasing him. His face relaxed. “Yeah.” “So you’d be up for some wild

partying tonight? It’s my first night in Chicago. Let’s go crazy.” “Uh…I have an early morning skate. And a game tomorrow night.” She smiled and lifted her chin. “That’s a no, then?” He sighed. “Okay, I am boring.” “Oh come on.” She nudged his upper arm with her shoulder. “There are lots of ways to have fun. I was totally kidding about a wild party night tonight. Okay, maybe not totally.” She flashed him a smile. “But it’s understandable that you wouldn’t party all night the day before a game.” “Some guys do,” he muttered.

“Those guys are not team captain. In fact, those guys are probably third or fourth line players who will never be Stanley Cup champions or all-stars or Olympians. Am I right?” He drew back a little bit and regarded her with raised eyebrows. “Uh…yeah.” “You’re a professional. One of the best players on the team. In the entire NHL.” “How do you know that?” She smiled at him. “I’m not an idiot. My brother plays for the Aces. I watch games.” “Huh.”

He seemed surprised by this. “I grew up watching hockey.” Her fingers moved on the stem of her margarita glass. “I guess it kind of sinks in through osmosis.” “Yeah. You coming to the game tomorrow night?” “You going to get me tickets?” She met his eyes, smiling. “Sure.” Lovey turned to look at Angel, who had just made a noise…an exhaled “guh” that sounded like exasperated disbelief. Angel rolled her eyes and turned away. Lovey blinked. When she looked back at Marc, he had his hand to his

forehead, rubbing it, eyes closed. Then he shook his head and straightened. “Army’ll get you tickets.” Lovey tilted her head and looked back and forth between Marc and Angel. When she’d walked in, she’d immediately seen the other woman’s interest in him, Angel hanging on his arm and fluttering her eyelashes at him. Lovey wasn’t sure why it had bugged her, since she’d barely met the guy and had no claim on him whatsoever. She leaned in closer to Marc and whispered in his ear. “Sorry! Am I stepping on toes?” She moved her

head in Angel’s direction. “Were you getting her tickets to the game?” He shook his head. “No. And no.” “Were you getting lucky with her?” He choked on his beer. “Uh…” “She’s interested in you. Want me to back off? I don’t want to cramp your style.” He gave her a long look, and their faces were so close she could see the dark ring of blue around his lighter blue irises, his insanely long eyelashes, the faint white scar above his upper lip. She wanted to touch that scar…trace it with her

fingertips. Kiss it. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Don’t look at me like that.” She swallowed and widened her eyes. “Like what?” He shook his head. “Never mind. You’re not cramping my style, but your big brother is giving us looks that indicate extreme displeasure.” Lovey swiveled her head to look at Duncan. Yeah, he was glaring at them. He jerked his chin up and narrowed his eyes at her and she could read the words, “What the fuck?” in his expression. She grinned. She leaned in closer, her lips next

to Marc’s ear. “Guess what? I’m not afraid of him.” “I am,” Marc muttered. She laughed and patted his forearm where it rested on the table. “Right. You’re bigger than he is.” “Not by much and he knows how to throw a punch.” “I’ve seen you fight,” she said. “I think you can defend yourself. However, this is crazy talk since he is not going to be beating you up. I’ll handle him.” “I have no doubt about that. But Lovey…don’t use me in your manipulation tactics with your

brother. Duncan’s my friend.” Lovey’s mouth dropped open as she absorbed his words. “Hey. I’m not using you.” “No?” Again their eyes met and held. Again, something passed between them, a definite tug. He felt it too…didn’t he? “I’m just talking to you.” “Well, maybe you should go back and talk to Sadie and Jenna.” Her heart tightened in her chest, a hurt feeling she didn’t like. She straightened her shoulders. “Yeah. Guess I should.” She pushed away from the table,

giving him a big smile that felt strained, and returned to the stool she’d been sitting on at the other end of the table. It was just as well, since a few servers appeared carrying their plates of food. Lovey picked up her burger, but felt unaccountably… something. Disappointed, maybe. She shot Marc a glum look, and dammit, he was watching her again. He’d been watching her almost all night. She couldn’t help but notice because she kept looking at him too. There was something about him she found so attractive… she’d always liked big guys, again

possibly a result of growing up with a brother who hung out with a bunch of hockey players. She liked the shape of his lips, the lean sculpted jaw, his blue eyes. She’d definitely liked his body when she’d seen him nearly naked earlier. Definitely. But there was more than just the physical appeal. She liked his amusement at Marc, she enjoyed his self-deprecating humor, which was maybe extra-attractive because he was a mega superstar athlete, and she liked his intelligence. She’d met her share of hockey players who could barely form a complete sentence. Marc

was smart. Then there was that hint of French accent that honestly made her panties nearly catch on fire. She sighed and picked up a French fry. She’d gone down there to talk to him because she kept feeling his gaze on her. Why’d he push her away when clearly he felt the attraction too? Men. She’d never had any trouble attracting guys. The hard part was getting rid of them when they got too serious. What was Marc afraid of? She wasn’t looking for anything long-term. The word “commitment”

made her freckled skin break out in hives. What was wrong with having a little fun? Oh yeah. Captain Codger. Not into fun. Well, damn. She nibbled another fry, watching him. Maybe he needed to learn to let loose a little. She narrowed her eyes at him. Yeah. “I really don’t like that look on your face.” Duncan spoke from beside her. “What’s up?” She gave her brother an innocent look. “Nothing.” “Uh-huh.”

He knew her too well. She smiled. “Just enjoying the food.” She looked at Jared. “This burger is really good, Jared.” “Told ya.” He grinned. He was also a good-looking guy. He wore his nearly black hair cut short and precise, and dressed stylishly— tonight he was wearing narrow black pants and a gorgeous sweater that buttoned at the neck. He was also single. As was Brent. Hell. She didn’t need to be hurt that Marc had rebuffed her. She’d have fun anyway. And so she set about flirting with Jared and Brent, ignoring the icy waves of

disapproval that continued to emanate from Duncan. And from Marc. — Everyone ended up back at Duncan and Marc’s condo later. Booze was purchased, music was blasted, drinks were consumed. A few other players showed up, some of them with girls. Lovey was a party girl and in her element, flitting from group to group, getting to know people, flirting with handsome hockey players. It was two in the morning when she noticed Marc had disappeared.

She looked around for him with raised eyebrows. When had he left? Where had he gone? To bed? Surely not! How could he sleep with all this noise? Why did he want to? Was he okay? She slipped away from the party and down the hall, gave a soft knock on his door, then cracked it open. The room was dark, just enough light coming in the window to see his bulky shape beneath a big puffy duvet. He didn’t move. She frowned. Was he sick? She slid into his room and padded across the carpeted floor to his bed. She bent over and touched his

shape with one hand. “Marc?” Still no response. She grimaced and set her palm on his forehead to see if he was feverish. He bolted upright, flinging his arm out to knock her away, then stared at her in the dark. “Tabarnak de câlisse!” She jumped back, hand going to her throat. “Sorry!” “Lovey?” He pulled earplugs out of his ears and she blinked. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” “I was worried about you! You disappeared. Why’d you leave?” “It’s two in the morning! Didn’t I

tell you we have an early skate tomorrow?” “Oh. Yeah. Um…everyone else is still here.” He closed his eyes. “I should’ve kicked their asses out. In fact, I’m gonna do that now.” He threw back the covers, revealing his big muscled body, and Lovey’s fingers closed around her own throat as her stomach did a little flip. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and her gaze dropped to his lap. Oh thank cheese-its, he was wearing boxers. Or maybe she was a teensy bit disappointed about that. “Goddammit.” He stood, towering

over her. “They need to take responsibility. If any of them is yawning and dragging their asses tomorrow, I’m gonna take names, for fuck’s sake.” He strode toward the door. “Wait!” Lovely clasped her hands together in front of her. Marc stopped and turned to her. “What?” “You’re…not dressed.” She waved a hand up and down. “Um…there are women out there…” “Oh. Yeah.” He shoved a hand into his perpetually tousled hair. For some reason Lovey did not

want him strutting nearly naked out there in front of those other women, most especially in front of Angel. “I’ll tell them to go. I’ll get Duncan to help.” He narrowed his eyes at her, then shook his head. “No. I’ll do it. Give me a minute.” He took a few steps to a chair in the corner of the room and grabbed the jeans he’d been wearing earlier. He pulled them up over his boxers, shoving a hand inside them to unself-consciously adjust himself. Lovey’s pulse spiked and heat gathered low inside her. He flicked up the zipper and

button and then reached for the doorknob. She sighed. Oh well. A shirt was maybe too much to ask for. Not that she wasn’t enjoying the view. She trailed behind him down the hall to the living room, where music still pulsed, watching his long-legged athletic grace, the many muscles in his back, the bulging muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. Holy hell and shitfire. Her legs went weak. “Okay, assholes, get the hell outta here,” he shouted in the living room. “At the rink at ten o’clock, for Chrissake.”

All eyes turned to him. Lovey bit her lip as she leaned against the wall and watched. Were they going to be pissed? Would they even listen to him? Duncan reached for the sound system and turned the music off. Silence expanded around them. “Yeah, sorry, man.” Andrew stood up from the couch. “You’re right, it’s late.” “If you guys are hungover tomorrow, I’m gonna nail your asses into the boards,” Marc threatened. “Your head is aching, just wait.” “I’m good.” Jared stood too.

“Didn’t drink that much. Chill, dude.” Marc rolled his eyes. “Okay, g’night everyone.” Duncan herded people to the door. Lovey gaped at how everyone obeyed Captain Codger, even apologizing, for the love of cheese. His teammates clearly respected him. “You’ve got my number, right, handsome?” Sadie said to Duncan. “Uh. Yeah.” Duncan looked like someone was about to take a slap shot at him. Lovey rolled her eyes. Her

brother was a big redneck goof. She never got why girls thought he was so attractive. “Got time to nap in the afternoon.” Olaf Pilkvist moved to the door. “No worries, Captain Codger.” Lovey’s lips twitched. Then she watched Angel assess Marc’s impressive chest. Blergh. “Sorry, ladies.” Marc shot them a small smile. “Someone has to keep these guys in check.” “Good job, Captain,” Angel said in a throaty voice. She ignored Lovey standing near the hall. “See you again sometime?”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe.” Lovey’s smile tugged her lips again. How noncommittal he was. Well, at least she knew he wasn’t an asshole. The guys grumbled, but the condo was empty within minutes of Marc appearing. He turned and saw her standing there, watching him. “Oh. Hey.” “Sorry to barge into your bedroom. I wasn’t thinking.” “What the fuck, Lovey?” Duncan demanded. “What’d you do?” She rolled her eyes. “I was just worried about him. He disappeared

without even saying good night. I thought something was wrong.” “Nothing other than the fact that he’s the world’s biggest party pooper.” Duncan didn’t even try to hide the comment from Marc. Marc just laughed. “Shut the fuck up. You just didn’t have the balls to kick them all out.” “I was having fun.” Marc shook his head. “I need sleep. G’night.” “Christ. Do I really have to sleep on the couch?” Duncan turned to Lovey as Marc disappeared. “I’ll sleep on the couch. Don’t be

ridiculous. You’re way too big for it. And you need a good night’s sleep. As Captain Codger pointed out, you need to be in good shape tomorrow.” Duncan shook his head, but smiled. “Thanks, Lovey. We’ll get you a bed tomorrow.” “I have a bed. I’ll just get it shipped. I can sleep on the couch a few nights. No big deal.” “Monday morning you start looking for a place of your own.” “Sure.” Sure she would. She wasn’t going to find something she could move into the next day. Even she knew that. But if it made

Duncan feel better, she’d agree to it. She also had business things to attend to Monday morning. “Sorry, Lovey. Wish I had an extra bed for you.” “Oh, Dunc.” She moved to him and gave him a hug. He’d been so annoyed earlier that she’d showed up with no notice, annoyed that she’d quit her job…again. Trying to get rid of her. Now he was worried about her. “It’s okay. I came here without letting you know. I’ll make do. I have a bedroom, I put my stuff in there. I’m fine sleeping on the couch tonight.” “We could move the couch into

the bedroom. I’ll get Marc—” “No! Don’t bother him. I’ve done that enough tonight.” “Fuck yeah, what the hell were you doing in his bedroom?” “I told you!” She took a breath to stop from yelling. “I was worried about him.” “Jesus, Lovey, don’t just walk into a guy’s bedroom. What if he’d been in there with some chick?” She stared at him. Uh. Yeah. She hadn’t even thought of that. What if…fuck. She would not have been happy to see that. Her insides twisted.

Eh. He hadn’t been with anyone. He’d been alone, trying to get some sleep. Being the responsible, mature guy that he was. “We should clean up.” She looked around at all the empty bottles and dirty glasses. “Nah. Leave it till morning.” She made a face. “Seriously? I don’t know if I can do that. This place is a mess.” “Marc’ll clean up.” She frowned. “You’re just going to leave it for him to do? Duncan! That’s not fair.” Duncan shrugged. “He likes

cleaning. I don’t give a shit. Sounds fair to me.” “That sounds fucked up!” He flinched at her language. “I’m not sleeping out here with the stink of empty beer bottles.” She moved to the coffee table. “Help me out here, bro.” He made a frustrated sound but followed along and helped her clean up. “We can do the kitchen in the morning. All of us. Not just Marc. At least I have a semi-clean place to sleep. Cheese-its, I didn’t think I was moving into a frat house.”

“It’s not that bad. And you’re not moving in.” “Where’s your dishwasher detergent?” “Here.” Duncan opened the cupboard beneath the sink and handed her a tablet. She inserted it in the dishwasher holder, closed the door, and pushed the button to start it. “There. Okay. Bedtime. See you tomorrow.” She paused. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I appreciate it.” He sighed. “You’re welcome. You know you can visit anytime. But we should talk. About what the hell you’re doing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. Maybe Sunday.” “Yeah. We have a day off.” He disappeared down the hall to his room. She leaned against the counter for a moment. They had a day off. That meant Marc too. Maybe she could convince Captain Codger to have some fun…hmmm…

Chapter 4 Marc wandered into the kitchen after his shower the next morning to hunt down some breakfast. Even though the Aces organization would give them food after their skate, something he appreciated with all his heart since he wasn’t much of a cook, he always needed something in his belly before their game day skate. He glanced at the huddle of blankets on the couch. The fall sun wasn’t even up yet so the room was

still dark. Not even trying to be quiet, because, hey, Army should be up getting ready to go too, he opened cupboards and set about cracking eggs into a fry pan and microwaving himself a bowl of oatmeal. He popped four slices of bread into the big toaster, then brewed himself a cup of coffee in the Keurig. He’d woken up with that heavy sense of failure that had been dogging him for weeks. They’d been playing crappy and no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to get some of the guys motivated. As team captain, he felt the weight of

responsibility. He’d spent hours talking to the coaching staff, going back and forth between them and the players, trying to figure out what was really wrong. It was making him nuts. The blankets on the couch shifted. A head appeared. Long, redgold hair shimmered on the white pillow and then big hazel eyes peered at him. He gaped. Lovey was sleeping on the couch? What the hell? “Morning,” she called across the big space. “What time is it?” “Seven-thirty.” “Oh dear God. Seriously?”

“Yup.” She lifted her arms above her head and stretched, then pushed aside the covers and swung her legs over the side of the couch. “Is that coffee I smell?” “Yup.” She rose then and sauntered toward him, and his chin dropped to his chest. She wore a tiny little turquoise camisole that hugged her slender body. White lace edged the top, as well as the bottom of the matching panties. Her long hair was tousled into messy waves around her shoulders. Holy flying fuck. He snapped his mouth closed and

hurriedly turned to the beeping microwave to retrieve his bowl of oatmeal. “Mmm, what’s that?” She came up behind him and peered around his shoulder, close enough that he could feel her body heat and smell that sweet scent of cupcakes. “Oatmeal,” he croaked. He set the bowl on the counter and slammed the microwave door shut. “Cool. And eggs? Those all for you?” “Yeah. Four eggs, sunny-side up.” He spooned strawberry jam onto his oatmeal and began to eat it while his eggs cooked. Lovey moved

around the kitchen with a languid, still somewhat drowsy grace, her eyelids a little heavy, her mouth curved into a slight smile. “You might need to show me how to work this machine.” She peered at the Keurig. “Ah…you can have my coffee.” He nodded at the cup sitting in the appliance. “I’ll make myself one in a few minutes.” “You sure?” She gave him a slow blink. “Yeah, no problem.” He scooped up a big spoonful of oatmeal and jam. “Milk is there if you need it. Sugar in the first cupboard.”

“Any sweetener? I don’t do sugar.” “Uh…no.” She smiled. “Guess not, huh. Well, I suppose a spoonful of sugar won’t kill me.” She doctored the coffee and cupped the mug in both hands, leaning against the counter. After a sip, she said, “Ah. That’s good.” He shoveled in more oatmeal, trying not to look at her body in the skimpy cami and panties, which she seemed completely unconcerned about. The thin fabric hugged her breasts, the panties left her long legs bare. He gulped. Then his toast

popped and he moved over to pull it out and butter it. “That was fun last night,” she chatted. “Sorry about disturbing your sleep.” “Don’t worry about it. I got back to sleep right away.” That wasn’t entirely true. For some reason he’d kept thinking about Lovey. Then he’d fucking dreamt about her. This was not good. “So what time is the game? How do I get my ticket?” Oh right. He’d said he’d get her a ticket. But then he’d decided it should be Duncan who did it. Whatever. He sighed. “I’ll arrange

for you to pick it up at the will call. You want two tickets?” A cute little crease appeared between her eyebrows. “I don’t know. Going alone isn’t much fun, but I don’t really know anyone else to invite. Oh wait…I do know someone in Chicago. I was planning to contact her.” She set the mug down and pushed away. “I’ll try to get hold of her and see if she wants to go.” “Great.” He watched her stroll to the closet near the door and pull out a laptop case. He slid a spatula under his eggs and lifted them onto the

plate with the buttered toast and moved to a stool at the counter. She set her laptop near him and opened it up. “Facebook,” she murmured. “I’ll message her. Oh wow. Lots of updates.” She leaned forward, elbows on the counter. Marc’s eyes dropped to the cleavage revealed in this pose. And his dick stiffened. He almost groaned out loud at the picture she made. She might as well have been naked, her nipples clearly outlined through the thin, stretchy fabric. He dragged his gaze up to her face, her eyes focused intently on the screen, her white teeth sunk

into that plush bottom lip. She released the lip to smile at something she read, then nodded. Fuck, she was cute. Marc closed his eyes and then reopened them to look at his eggs and toast. He needed to eat and get the hell out of there. He finished his breakfast, then rose and moved toward the dishwasher, going the long way around the island so he didn’t have to move past Lovey. He still wanted coffee, so he pulled out another mug. “Oh, show me how to do that!” Lovey straightened and moved toward him.

He backed up. “So I know for next time,” she said, taking in the stupid way he’d retreated as if she was coming at him with the butt end of a hockey stick. Her eyes flickered. The corners of her mouth tipped up ever so slightly. “So…turn it on here…” “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, praying she didn’t look down to where his hard-on bulged. “Water goes in here…there’s enough right now for another cup…put the K-cup in here…press this button. Wait until it stops.” “Awesome. So easy. I have to get one of these things. Trips to

Starbucks add up to a lot of money.” “I guess.” She shifted closer, tossed her hair behind her shoulder, and smiled up at him. “Thanks.” He stared down at her, taking in the pretty flecks of gold and brown in eyes that were really green, the faint freckles scattered over her small nose and high cheekbones, her long gold eyelashes. “Uh…what’s going on?” They both jerked around at the sound of Duncan’s voice behind them, bumping into each other. Marc steadied her smaller body with his hands on her hips, slender

but soft, curvy hips…Jesus. He released her and backed away, bashing into the counter and smacking his head on an open cabinet door. Ow. “Nothing.” He slammed the door shut. “Just showing Lovey how to make coffee.” “I like that thing.” She smiled at her brother. “Morning, Dunc.” She moved again, retrieving her mug of coffee, then brushed past Marc to get back to her laptop to resume her Facebook perusal. “Hopefully Jillian can come with me to the game tonight.” “Game starts at seven.” Marc

choked out the words. “Oh, we’ll come before that,” she said. “I like to watch the warm-up. Thanks, Marc.” “We gotta get going.” Duncan set something on the counter. “Here’s an extra key for you, Lovey, if you want to go out.” “Perfect! Thanks. Gonna take a shower now.” “Okay. What are you doing today? Maybe we’ll see you after our skate.” “Yeah, I’m not sure. I might be here. So maybe I’ll see you later.” “If not, I’ll text you after the

game. We’ll probably go out for something to eat, if you want to come with us.” “Okay. Sounds good.” It was impossible not to watch her walk down the hallway, two cheeks to the wind in those cheeky panties. Those firm, round globes just begged to be grabbed and squeezed and… “Get your fucking eyes off my sister’s ass,” Army growled. Then his fist drilled Marc’s shoulder. “Ow! What the fuck, man!” Marc glared at Army, rubbing his shoulder. “Don’t look at her. Don’t even

think about looking at her. Stay the fuck away from her.” Marc scowled. “Jesus.” Pressure rose up inside him. He didn’t know whether to be pissed the hell off that Army would order him around like that, or protest that he wasn’t looking at her, which would be a total lie, or tell Army he had no intention of getting anywhere near Lovey. Which he didn’t. So why did he have to even say it? “Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m not gonna touch your sister.” Army gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Damn right you’re not.” “Maybe you should tell her to put

some clothes on.” Army gave a heavy sigh. “I knew this was a bad idea, letting her stay here.” Marc slid off the stool. “Gonna get my stuff, then let’s go.” Army wanted to take his new vehicle so he drove to the Moens Center. They talked about the team they were playing that night, who was going to be back in the lineup, and who was out, carefully avoiding any mention of Lovey. At the arena, Marc changed into shorts and a T-shirt. Some guys were of the opinion that game day skates weren’t really necessary.

Probably, the practice had started years ago to stop guys from staying out all night carousing before a game, giving them a reason to drag their asses out of bed, get their bodies moving and blood flowing before a game. Marc approved of that. Yeah, he knew his reputation as a killjoy—like last night when he’d kicked everyone out—but this was his career and he wanted to win. It was important to be ready for every single game. It was early in the season, but you didn’t know which game was going to be the one that made the difference between making the playoffs or not, or

having home ice advantage, so every game was important. The way things had been going lately, they desperately needed a win. He thought the game day skate was good for getting everyone together, having a look at stats, going over plans for the game, checking out injuries and how everyone was feeling. They needed to get their stuff together, make sure new sticks were right and skates didn’t need a blade replaced or something. This morning, he headed first to the stick room. He had a few new sticks he wanted to make sure were

just right. Then he climbed on a bike and pedaled to Imagine Dragons’ “Radioactive,” the music pumping through the dressing room. His teammates arrived, some of them working out like him, others getting checked by the trainers, some with nagging small injuries, strains, and pulled muscles from the game the other night, or longer-term things they were still working on. Then they all changed and hit the ice for the skate. He was always the first one on the ice and the last one off. He set an example for the rest of the team. He worked hard and expected the

rest of his teammates to work hard too. Right now on this losing streak, he was working extra hard, trying to motivate everyone. This wasn’t an intense practice like other days, just a good way to get the blood flowing and work on a few things. Today, Coach had them working on their power play, then Assistant Coach Al Bosco worked with him on face-offs, dropping pucks in front of him in rapid succession, over and over again. The stands were mostly empty. A group of media people had congregated in a bunch of seats near center ice. Some of the Aces

staff were wandering in and out, working on various things in preparation for game night. The scratch of skate blades and the crack of the puck on sticks echoed among the calls between players and coaching staff on the ice. The team skated around now, taking shots at both goalies, one at either end. Marc lined up a shot and drilled the puck at Stoykers in the net, and grinned when it sailed past his glove hand top shelf. Beauty. Brent shook his head, but the truth was, he liked it when Marc challenged him. With Marc having one of the best shots in the NHL,

Brent liked getting tested like that. It made him better. Marc skated until everyone else had left the ice, then followed them to the dressing room and stripped off his jersey and helmet, replacing it with an Aces ball cap. Still wearing the Aces performance shirt he wore beneath his jersey, he met with the media in the dressing room to talk about the game that night and their crappy start to the season and what they were expecting from the Boston Bruins. He was pretty sick of talking about why they were losing games but had to hold in his annoyance and be

patient with the media. “Yeah, they’re a good team,” he said into the numerous microphones and phones in front of his face. “They’re well coached and they defend well. It’s gonna be a good game.” He listened to another question, thought about it, and responded. “Sure, they’re a good skating team. We have to be ready to skate and take our game to them, and not get caught in their style. We just have to be patient and confident in our system. We know that when it works, we win games.” The only question was, why wasn’t it working?

Then the team met to look at some videos and go over a few things in preparation for the game that night. They focused again on power play videos, since they’d been struggling on the power play lately. By the time they were done, it was noon and lunch had been set up in the players’ lounge for them. Marc loaded his plate with a huge pile of pasta with tomato sauce, a couple of grilled chicken breasts, and some salad. He’d always had trouble keeping his weight up where he liked it, and tried to eat five or six thousand calories a day during the season. When he’d been

drafted by the Aces eight years ago, he’d worked with a nutritionist who’d given him advice about things he should and shouldn’t eat, and he followed that to this day. “Is your sister just here for the weekend?” Rupper asked Army as they ate. “She says she’s moving here.” Army gave a heavy sigh. “I gotta talk to her about that.” “Oh yeah?” Rupper’s eyes lit up and Marc noticed several of the other guys perk up. “Your sister?” Hughie Land, a big defenseman, asked. “Cute little redhead, right?”

Marc frowned. So did Army. “Forget it,” Army growled at Hughie. “All of you.” He looked around the room. “My sister is offlimits. You know the rule.” Rule number one of their code: once you’ve known a guy for more than twenty-four hours, his sister is off-limits forever. “I don’t like that rule anymore,” Stoykers said. “Too fucking bad!” Army yelled. “You can’t just change the rules! That would mean I could tell everyone you like to watch figure skating.” The room fell silent. Stoykers’

face went red. “Figure skating?” Hughie said. “Seriously?” “Fuck off,” Stoykers muttered. “She’s an adult,” Hughie said. “You can’t stop her from going out with one of us if she wants.” “Oh yeah.” Army gave him a meaningful look that was also… well, mean. “I can.” The guys all hooted, but eyes shifted and Marc knew they knew Army meant it. “C’mon, man. Better she dates one of us, someone you know and like, than some stranger who could

be a complete asshole,” Hughie said. “I’m a nice guy,” Stoykers added, looking wounded. “Why wouldn’t you want her to date me?” Army scowled at him. “You sleep with chicks two at a time, that’s why.” “Not always,” Stoykers protested, not even trying to deny it. Marc just listened. This conversation made him want to punch someone. He didn’t know who. Anyone. The fact that apparently every single guy on the team lusted after Lovey Armstrong pissed him off. The fact that Army

was being so protective of her also pissed him off, although why that was he had no idea. How could he blame a guy for looking out for his little sister? Well, Stoykers had a point—she was an adult. A very sexy, sweet adult. Fuck that. He had to wash those thoughts out of his head. He could not be thinking about her sweet little ass cheeks twitching as she walked down the hall that morning, heading to the bathroom she was sharing with him. Fuuuuuck. After lunch, he and Army headed back to the condo. It had started to

snow from a pale overcast sky. Jesus, it wasn’t even the end of October and it was snowing already. When they walked into the condo, the music of One Republic was playing and Lovey was on the big couch, sock feet on the coffee table, her sleek silver Mac computer on her lap. Her head and upper body were moving to the music as she stared at her computer screen, fingers tapping on the keyboard. Pale light flooded the room through the big windows as snow fell outside. “Oh hey.” She looked up at them and illuminated the room with that

wide, white smile. “You’re back. How was your practice?” “Good.” Army shrugged out of his jacket. Marc did the same, trying hard not to look at Lovey. “Still on Facebook?” he muttered to the floor. At least she was dressed now. “Um…sort of. Good news. Jillian can come to the game with me tonight.” She set aside her laptop and stood. “Great.” Yeah, she was dressed. A big, loose-knit sweater with a high neckline swaddled her from chin to thighs, black leggings covered her

legs—although they didn’t disguise their sexy shape—and big Nordicpatterned knit socks ensured she was shrouded all the way to her toes. And still she somehow managed to look tempting. He was so fucked. “Who’s Jillian?” Army asked. “We went to college together at Madison Tech. She moved to Chicago after we graduated. When I was coming here, I planned to look her up and hopefully get together, so this is great.” Army nodded. “Okay, gonna take a nap now.” Marc moved past her toward the

hall. “See ya later.” He made a hasty retreat down the hall, stopping at the bathroom. He walked in and shut the door, then gazed around in dismay. Lovey had apparently unpacked. Bottles of all kinds of girl crap lined the counter and the bathtub, the scent of cupcakes filling the air. A pink poufy sponge hung off a hook in the shower, and a lavender makeup bag spilled cosmetics out onto the marble vanity. A hair straightener sat on a folded-up towel there. Jesus. Yup. Fucked.

Chapter 5 Lovey smiled, watching Marc disappear down the hall. She turned back to her brother, who stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “What?” She blinked at him. He narrowed his eyes. “He touches you, he’s a dead man. Don’t screw around with him.” Lovey lowered her chin to one side and gave him a sidelong look. “Dude. What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. And you’re not sleeping on the couch again. Get a fucking bed in here ASAP. Meanwhile, I’ll sleep on the couch.” “I thought we already had this conversation.” She folded her arms across her chest to match his pose, cocking a hip. “You’re too big to sleep on the couch.” “I am, but you can’t sleep out here in those skimpy little clothes when Marc is around.” Now she lifted an eyebrow. “That’s what I sleep in.” “Get some flannel pajamas.” She laughed. “Right.”

“Seriously, Lovey. This is why I didn’t want you staying here. You can’t walk around dressed like that. He was looking at you.” She grinned. “I know.” He groaned. “Oh relax, Dunc. We’re all adults.” “We need to talk.” She frowned. “About what?” “About why you’re here. Why you quit your job. Why you broke up with whatshisname—” “Richard.” “Yeah. Richard. And what you think you’re going to do here in

Chicago. But right now…I need to have a nap.” She shrugged. She was familiar with game day naps. “Go ahead. And FYI, I already called Mom and asked her to get my stuff sent here. She’s going to do it Monday. I should have a bed next week.” He sighed again. “Fuck me. How do you do this?” “Do what?” “Never mind. We’ll talk tomorrow.” “Sure. Whatever.” He disappeared down the hall into his bedroom and she was alone

again. She sucked in a long breath and let it out, looking around. Macklemore sang through her computer speakers on a playlist she’d created. She wandered to the big windows and gazed out at the skyscrapers now obscured with the falling snow, slow, fluffy flakes that drifted slowly from the sky. The view from Duncan’s condo was awesome. She loved the city. She’d visited Chicago many times and couldn’t wait to go out there and explore and get to know it better. It would be different now that she lived there. She wasn’t just a visitor. This was going to be

her home. Why hadn’t she done this years ago? The condo felt warm and cozy with the snow outside the glass. She padded in sock feet across the thick area rug toward the kitchen to brew herself a beverage in that cool Keurig machine. She’d found packages of all different kinds of drinks—lattes, cappuccinos, hot chocolate. Moments later she held a warm mug of caramel vanilla cream coffee. Yum. She didn’t want to think about the calorie or sugar content. She’d just have this one. She paused a moment, wondering

why Duncan and Marc had such a drink…they didn’t seem the type to like a sweet coffee. Oh yeah—all the girls they had over. She rolled her eyes and strolled back to curl up in the corner of the big, squishy leather couch. Like last night. She’d learned later in the evening that they’d just met those girls at the bar. Here she’d thought she was meeting and hanging out with some of their friends. But no, puck bunnies. She grimaced. They’d actually been really nice girls, although Angel had clearly had her sights set on Marc. Beh.

Why did that bug her? It wasn’t like Marc was hers. But he was really, really attractive. And she knew he felt the same about her. She’d sensed the tension in him whenever they were together. Last night he’d kept watching her. This morning when they’d been in the kitchen together he’d clearly been attracted. There was no mistaking how he looked at her, and the cute way he was trying to keep his distance. She didn’t get that, though. If they were attracted to each other, why couldn’t they act on it? Duncan.

She sighed as she settled her Mac on her lap again. Big brother was being annoying. He was always annoying. She loved him, and his protectiveness was cute, but damn. She was a big girl. She liked men. She liked having fun. Why couldn’t she and Marc have fun together if they both wanted it? Oh right—Captain Codger. He wasn’t into “fun.” She pursed her lips and stared at her screen. That was okay. She was used to getting her way. Duncan had just asked the question, “How do you always do that?” She’d

played dumb, but she knew what he meant. All her life she’d gotten her own way. Her parents and her big brother had loved her, but having a hockey star brother had left her in the shadows a lot of the time. She’d never felt anything but loved, but had to admit there’d been times she’d felt a little lost. Hockey took a lot of time. As a kid, there’d been early morning practices and after school games. As a teenager, there’d been weekend tournaments in other states. She’d been dragged along on those trips she hadn’t wanted to go on, sitting in cold hockey arenas drinking hot

chocolate or by herself in hotel rooms. Her parents had felt guilty about all the time and attention Duncan got on the path to becoming a professional hockey player and had basically given her anything she wanted in an attempt to make up for it. She’d never taken advantage. Well, not much. She might be a little spoiled. She’d be the first to admit it. But she truly didn’t believe she was a bad person because of it. She sometimes didn’t think things through before she acted. She changed jobs and boyfriends and hair color with head-snapping

frequency. But she loved her family. She appreciated everything they did for her. She had friends she cared about and she was smart and she was forming a plan for her life. Duncan didn’t believe that. Yet. But she would show him. She tapped on her keyboard. She had more work to do for one of the few clients she already had in her fledgling business. A Facebook message from Jillian popped up. Lovey smiled as she typed a response, arranging to meet for dinner before the game. She suggested somewhere near the arena so she could get a ride with

Duncan and/or Marc. Did they drive to the game together? She knew Duncan would get there a couple of hours before game time, so that should work. Then if they didn’t meet up after, she could take a taxi home. She’d be ready to go when they got up from their nap. Meanwhile, she had work to do. She inserted earbuds to listen to music as she worked so as not to disturb the guys. Much as she pushed Duncan, she knew he and Marc—apparently especially Marc— took their profession seriously. It was game day and nothing could get in the way of that. She’d behave

herself and not interfere or distract them. An hour, maybe a little more, passed before she heard noises from down the hall as the guys woke up and got ready to go back to the arena. She saved her work, closed the numerous windows she had open, and shut down her computer. She carried it down the hall to her nearly empty bedroom. She’d “unpacked” earlier, which consisted of hanging some of her clothes in the big empty closet and setting others in neatly folded piles on the floor. She’d arranged her shoes and boots on the floor of the

closet. Her underwear stayed in the open suitcase, also on the floor. Well, Mom would get in touch with the storage facility on Monday and arrange to have her things transported to the condo. Hopefully it wouldn’t take long. She changed into a pair of jeans, her favorite Silver ones, super low and skinny, but kept the big sweater on. She liked the moss green color, and it was nice and warm for sitting in a cool arena. She’d have to get an Aces jersey to wear to games if she was going to live in Chicago. She poked her head out of the bedroom to check the status of the

bathroom. It was empty, so she nipped in there to touch up her face while her flat iron heated up. She added a little more eye shadow and mascara and shiny lip gloss, then wound the flat iron through her hair to curl it back off her face in long waves. There. She grabbed her flat, knee-high boots and her purse and headed out to the living room again. Marc was in the kitchen, perched on a stool, one foot on the floor, the other on a rung of the stool, and her heart skipped a beat as she took in his attire. He wore a dark suit that fit

his big body admirably, a snowy white shirt, and a silky tie in shades of blue, black, and purple. Shiny black shoes completed the classy outfit. With his spiky brown hair and stubbled jaw, he literally took her breath away. She struggled to drag air into her constricted lungs. “Hi.” He unwrapped something and took a bite. “Hi. Good nap?” “Mmmhmm.” He was chewing. “What’s that?” She dropped her boots to the floor and leaned on the counter, nodding at the bar in his hand. “Protein bar.” He took another

bite with his straight white teeth. He appeared to be one of the guys who’d religiously worn mouth protection and still had all his own teeth. And they were very nice teeth. On a plate in front of him sat an apple core and the peel of an orange he’d apparently already eaten. Pregame snack. “Do you and Duncan go to the game together?” “No. I like to get there earlier than he does and I stay later. I’m leaving right away.” “Can I get a ride with you?” He just looked at her, his face

expressionless. “Why?” “I’m meeting my friend for dinner before the game. I thought I could get a ride with you guys.” “Get a ride with Duncan.” Her insides tightened. “Do you have to be so rude?” He blinked. “Uh…” She frowned at him. “I’m not a terrible person. What’s your problem with me?” His head jerked back. “Nothing. I have no problem with you.” “Yes, you do. You’re being a big jerk to me. I’m sorry if I showed up and cramped your bachelor lifestyle

or whatever the hell you’re pissed off at me about. I’m not going to get in your way. Is it that much trouble to have a passenger on the drive to the arena?” His eyelids lowered and he finished chewing the protein bar, tossing the foil wrapper on the plate. “No,” he finally said, brushing his fingertips together. He rose from the stool, and holy hell and shitfire, he absolutely dominated the space in that dark, gorgeous suit. “It’s no trouble. Sure you can have a ride. And sorry. You’re not ‘cramping my style,’ whatever the hell that means.”

“Well, something’s wrong,” she muttered. “But thanks for the ride. I won’t even talk, if that’ll make it better for you.” He picked up his plate, moved around the big island to dump the contents into the trash, and slide the plate into the dishwasher. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “I don’t believe you could do that.” She stared at him. “Do what?” “Not talk the entire way there.” Her mouth fell open, but then she caught the faint twitch of the corners of his mouth. Was he actually…teasing her? She rolled

her lips together briefly, then admitted, “You’re probably right.” She caught a flash of those white teeth in a brief smile. “Let’s go.” She grabbed her boots and sat on a stool to pull them on and zip them up. “Duncan!” she yelled. She heard his muffled, “What?” “I’m getting a ride with Marc. We’re leaving now.” He appeared so fast she blinked. “What?” He shot Marc a questioning glare. Marc shrugged, jingling a set of keys. “She asked. It’s not a problem.”

“Oh, for the love of cheese.” She headed to the closet and pulled out a puffy black down jacket. She looped a big multi-colored knit scarf around her neck and grabbed the matching mitts. Her purse was on a small table and she picked it up. “Let’s go. Let me know what you’re doing after,” she said to Duncan. “If we don’t meet up, I’ll take a taxi home.” She paused. “Have a good game.” “Thanks.” They left the condo and rode the elevator to the underground parking. Marc’s vehicle wasn’t much different from Duncan’s—a

sport utility vehicle in a shiny charcoal color. He may have been being rude, but deep down he was obviously a gentleman, because he beeped the locks as they approached the SUV, then opened the door for her. He put out a hand to help her in, even. Nice. Then she paused. “Isn’t that Duncan’s new truck?” She nodded at the vehicle next to Marc’s. “Yeah.” She looked at the words “For Sale” painted in red on the window with a cellphone number beneath. Duncan’s cellphone number. Her head snapped around to look at

Marc. “Did you do that?” His lips twitched. “Hey, I’m Captain Codger. I’m not into pranks.” He totally had done that. “He’s going to lose his shit when he sees it.” “Probably. He also probably already has about ten voicemails asking how much he wants for it.” Lovey laughed out loud and he helped her into the vehicle. Marc pulled out onto streets that were slushy and messy. The snowfall had basically stopped, although the sky was still overcast and it was approaching the early

evening dusk. “You’re a good driver,” she commented as he navigated the snowy streets and traffic with ease. “See. You couldn’t do it.” She opened her mouth to ask, Do what? then realized, and snapped it closed. She sighed. She’d forgotten that promise. Ah well. She’d already admitted he was right about her inability to keep quiet. “I gave you a compliment!” He flashed a sideways glance her way; the corners of his mouth lifted. “Yeah. Thanks.” “Where did you grow up? Quebec, right?”

“Right. Rimouski.” He said the word with a rolled “r” and so fast she wasn’t actually sure what the name of the town was. She wasn’t going to admit that. She’d Google it later. She needed to learn French. “It snows a lot there?” “Damn right it does.” “Is it a big city?” He chuckled. “No. About fortyfive thousand people. A good size but definitely not big.” “Did you grow up speaking French?” “Oui.” She grinned.

“Everything is French there.” He shrugged, just a hint of French accenting his words. “But my father is Anglophone, so I grew up learning both languages at home. I went to a French school, but I ended up playing junior hockey in Halifax, Nova Scotia, staying with an English family. Everyone on the team spoke English.” “Huh.” This was fascinating. She shifted in her seat. “How long were you in Nova Scotia?” “Three years. I was drafted when I was eighteen but played one more year in junior, then started with the Aces when I was twenty. Just

turned twenty.” “How old are you now?” “Twenty-seven.” “A seasoned veteran.” He gave a tiny smile again. “Well, I’m not a rookie anymore.” “So you left home when you were…fifteen?” “Sixteen.” “Wow.” He shrugged. “Duncan didn’t leave home until he went to college. That was where he got drafted from.” “Yeah.” “Right, I guess you know that.

Obviously. Duh.” She paused. “Your parents must be proud of you.” “Yeah. Sure.” He lifted a shoulder. “You shouldn’t talk so much,” she said. “Those one-word answers reveal so much about you.” His mouth opened, his eyes widened, but he didn’t look at her. Then he muttered, “Unholy mother of fuck.” She laughed. She couldn’t help it. It was funny. “I’m sorry. I talk too much. Ask too many questions. I’m just curious about people. You’re interesting.” “Fuck,” he muttered again, his fingers opening, then closing

around the steering wheel. “Ignore me,” she advised him. “You have a game tonight. You need to focus on that. Um…want to talk about that? What are you going to work on tonight?” He didn’t answer and his hands clenched again on the steering wheel. Finally he said in a low voice, “We haven’t been playing well lately. There’s a lot to work on. Been working on getting behind the net, protecting the puck. Once you get around back there, there are different angles and passes, it’s tougher to defend against. Guys are checking you hard, though, you

gotta protect the puck and be aware of where they are, stay on the puck. I’m working on getting better at that. Gotta win the face-off and I can get behind the net and watch for plays.” “Or steal the puck if they have it,” she said. “Sometimes they’re not defensive enough if they think they have possession of it.” “Yeah,” he said slowly, sending her a long look. “Sometimes that’s when they’re most vulnerable.” He’d said more in those few minutes than she’d ever heard him say. She liked it. He parked in his spot at the

Moens Center and they got out of his vehicle. He started toward the ramp where the players entered, then stopped. It was dusky now, and a few stray snowflakes drifted down around his dark shape, a black wool coat over his suit. “Where are you off to?” “Viviana.” She looked around. “Do you know…?” “That way.” He pointed. “One block south. I’ll walk you there.” “No!” She started off. “No, I don’t want to interfere with your game day routine. Thanks for the ride. I’ll find it! Good luck!” She legged it

across the parking lot to the street without looking back. Cheese-its, he hated her enough without having to walk her to her destination, which would make him late for his arrival before the game.

Chapter 6 Lovey walked into Viviana and looked around for Jillian. She didn’t see her. It was busy already, so she gave her name to the hostess, who showed her to their table. This was a cool place. She’d almost suggested the Sin Bin, but Jillian said this was good too, new and not too expensive. A pizza bar stretched along one side of the restaurant, with rows of dark wood tables and then some padded booths carved out from a

center peninsula. Candles flickered in tall glass containers on the tables and lots of funky lighting created a sophisticated atmosphere. Lovey slid into the booth, settled, and began studying the Italian menu. It was only a few minutes before she spotted Jillian at the entrance. She waved eagerly at her and stood, and with a big smile Jillian hurried toward her. “Lovey!” Jillian threw her arms around her friend and they hugged. Cold air clung to Jillian’s jacket and her cheek was chilled too as Lovey hugged her back. “You look gorgeous!” Lovey drew

back, smiling. “I like the new haircut.” She’d seen photos on Facebook when Jillian got it done. They’d only seen each other in person a couple of times since college but kept in touch online. “Thanks!” Jillian unwrapped her scarf and pulled off her jacket, then hung it on a nearby coatrack along with Lovey’s. She took the seat across from her. “So this is awesome that you’re here in Chicago!” “Yeah, I’m excited about it.” “It was a snap decision, though, wasn’t it?”

“No!” Jillian gave Lovey a knowing look. Yes, Jillian knew her and her impulsiveness well. “Well, yes.” Lovey sighed. “You can tell me all about it over dinner,” Jillian said. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to lecture you.” “That’s good, because my brother is,” Lovey muttered. She picked up her menu again. They ordered a bottle of wine to share, and sipped as they decided on food. “I don’t know what to have! The pizza looks amazing.” “It’s great,” Jillian confirmed. “But then, so are the pastas.”

Lovey agonized over her choice, and eventually they agreed that Lovey would have pasta and Jillian would have pizza, and they’d share. Jillian chose a burnt pepperoni pizza, which she assured Lovey was fantastic, and Lovey ordered orecchiette with prosciutto, watercress, and Pecorino cheese. “Tell me about your job,” Lovey invited once their orders had been taken. “How’s the beer company?” Jillian grinned and fingered the stem of her wineglass. “It’s good! I love working there. I’m an associate brand manager right now, but I’m working on moving up to senior

brand manager.” They’d had some courses together in college, although they got different degrees, Jillian’s in Marketing, Lovey’s in Visual Communications, but Lovey’d ended up working in marketing too after she graduated. Jillian had landed a primo job with Moens Breweries in Chicago only a year after finishing school. Lovey had also done a Social Media certificate and had started working on some social media things for her former employer, Kleinheinz Cheese. Yes, she tweeted about cheese. “So I thought you liked your

cheese job,” Jillian said. “I did like it.” Lovey looked down at the plate of food that had just been set in front of her. “I mean, it was okay. I just…the whole nine-tofive thing, having to do what other people tell me…it bugged me.” “That’s what working for a living is.” “I know.” Lovey gave her a crooked smile. “I didn’t quit just because of that. I broke up with Richard.” “What happened?” Jillian’s eyes softened as she picked up her fork. “He wanted to get married and have babies. Like, tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Jillian’s eyes widened. “He’s thirty-six,” Lovey continued. “I guess I should have known an older guy would be ready to settle down. It was fun at first… he’s a vice president at Kleinheinz, he’s financially stable, has a nice house…I felt all grown up dating him.” Jillian smiled. “But wow, he got serious really fast. It scared the crap out of me. I’m not ready to settle down and have babies!” “No?” “No.” Lovey tipped her head. “Are you?”

Jillian shrugged. “Maybe if I met the right guy.” “Are you seeing anyone?” “No.” She made a face. “I was seeing a guy, not serious, we just went out a few times, but it fizzled.” “That’s too bad.” “Eh. It’s okay. I’m busy. I work long hours some days, and I have great friends. I’ll introduce you to them…we’ll have a welcome to Chicago girls’ night.” “That would be awesome. Anyway, I didn’t feel I could stay working at Kleinheinz after we broke up. It was awkward.”

“So what are you going to do here? Are you looking for a job?” “Actually, I’m looking for clients.” Lovey met her friend’s eyes. “I’m trying to start my own business.” “Really? Cool!” It was Lovey’s turn to make a face. “Yeah. I’m not making much money yet. So it’s kind of scary. But it’s what I really want to do.” “Marketing?” “Yeah, sort of. It’s social media consulting. I was doing some of that for Kleinheinz and I really enjoyed it, but that wasn’t a full-time job for them. When I left, I offered them my consulting services and they

agreed.” “I guess you can do that kind of work from anywhere.” “Yes, that’s right. Although one of my biggest prospective clients is here in Chicago. And I have a couple of other small companies that wanted to have a social media presence but didn’t have the resources to do it.” “That’s great!” Lovey nodded, a small swell of pleasure expanding inside her. “I hope I can make it work. I know I didn’t like the nine-to-five desk job, but the trade-off is less security, obviously. No steady paycheck

every two weeks. I have some savings to keep me going for a while, but…well, living in Chicago is expensive.” “You’re staying with your brother, right?” “Yeah, thankfully. But he keeps saying I can’t stay there long.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m interfering with their wild bachelor lifestyle, apparently. However, he has agreed to let me move some of my things into his spare room, so he’s kind of accepted that I’m not moving into my own place next week.” “Hmmm. If I hear of anyone looking for a roommate, I’ll let you

know. Leigh and I have no room in our little apartment, unfortunately.” “Ah, that’s okay, and thanks. A roommate would be a good idea. Unless I can convince Duncan to let me stay permanently.” She grinned. Living in that gorgeous condo would be nice, but even she had to admit that staying with her brother long-term was not going to work. They chatted more through dinner and then walked to the arena in time to watch the pre-game skate. “I’ve come to a couple of games here and watched from our suite,” Jillian said once they were in their

seats right behind the Aces bench, with drinks in hand. “That’s pretty cool.” “Oooh, a suite, yes.” “Moens Breweries owns seventy percent of the team,” Jillian continued. “I have this idea for an ad campaign that would feature some of the players.” “Hey, there’s Duncan.” Lovey pointed to her brother on the ice, then scanned the surface looking for Marc. She spotted him near the boards on the other side of the ice, no helmet, talking to another player. Guns N’ Roses blasted through the arena as fans began to

fill the seats. Jillian was interested in Lovey’s business. “What’s the name of your company?” “Big Cheese Media.” Jillian’s head whipped around and then she burst out laughing. “I love it!” Lovey raised a shoulder, pleased by Jillian’s reaction. “Thanks. I made it myself.” Jillian giggled. They chatted more about both their jobs and caught up on other news as the game got under way, then Lovey got wrapped up in the excitement. Jillian enjoyed hockey, but Lovey found

herself explaining things to her, like why the Bruins got a delay of game penalty when one of their players shot the puck over the glass, and why Jared Rupp didn’t get to come out of the penalty box when the Bruins scored a minute and a half into a double minor for high sticking, and why it had been a four-minute penalty instead of two (because he’d drawn blood on the Bruin player’s face). This resulted in a second goal for the Bruins, and as the second period ended, the Aces were down three-one. The vibrant atmosphere in the arena had been subdued by the two

goals and Lovey pouted a little watching the players leave the ice. “Hopefully they’ll regroup,” she said. “There’s still time.” “They haven’t been doing well lately,” Jillian noted. “Don’t get your hopes up.” They were close to the exit and Lovey watched until she saw Marc leave the ice, and when he looked up as if he felt her gaze on him she lifted her hand in a little wave and smiled. She got no reaction. Her smile went crooked. “Who’s that?” Jillian asked. “Duncan’s roommate. Marc Dupuis.”

Jillian nodded. “Their power play has sucked lately,” Lovey said with a sigh. “It really killed them.” Jared was probably beating himself up over that careless high stick. “Let’s get another beer.” They were just leaving their seats when an announcement of Marc’s name made Lovey pause. She looked up at the score clock, where the picture was a bunch of kids waving and smiling, and listened. “Every home game, Chicago Aces Captain Marc Dupuis invites kids from local hospitals to attend a game in Marc’s Magic Suite. Today

joining us are eight youngsters from the University of Chicago Comer Children’s Hospital.” The kids waved more wildly. “The kids are treated to dinner in the suite and given goody bags, and after the game they’ll meet with Marc Dupuis for autographs and pictures. Please join us in welcoming these special guests.” Lovey sucked in a breath, impressed. “Wow,” she said to Jillian. “I didn’t know he did that.” “That’s pretty awesome.” They made their way to the concourse, found drinks, and stood amid the crowd sipping them and

talking. Lovey caught the eye of a guy nearby who was watching them. He smiled. She gave him a small smile back, then broke eye contact, although in her peripheral vision she saw him say something to the other two dudes he was with and then they were all looking at her and Jillian. “Do you know those guys over there?” Lovey asked her friend. “No, don’t look yet.” Jillian grinned. “Where?” “Three o’clock. Three goodlooking dudes, all in jeans, nice sweaters. One has a short beard.” Jillian shifted position casually,

looked the other way as if studying the crowd, tossed her hair back, and looked toward the guys, her gaze skimming past them. “Nope. Don’t know them. But they’re cute.” “Yeah. They were watching us.” Jillian lifted an eyebrow and sipped her beer. “Hmmm.” Lovey looked back at the guy whose eye she’d caught, made eye contact again, smiled, and looked away. It was only minutes later when the men approached. “You ladies here at the game alone?” one of them asked. Lovey smiled. “We are.” “Hockey fans?”

“I sure am.” “Cool. Cheering for the Aces, I assume?” Lovey sipped her beer. “What if I said I’m a Bruins fan?” Jillian choked. The guy grinned. “I’m openminded. Someone as pretty as you can cheer for whoever you want.” Lovey just shook her head. “Aw. Thank you. But I’m kidding. I’m definitely an Aces fan.” The guys introduced themselves as Corey, Hakim, and Josh. They flirted a little until the third period was set to start.

“What are you doing after the game?” Corey asked Lovey. “Join us for a drink?” Lovey tipped her head to one side. “I’m not sure. We might be meeting up with my brother and his friends after the game.” She sensed Jillian’s amusement. “I’m not sure where we’re going.” “Here’s my number,” Corey said, handing her a card. “Let us know where you end up. Maybe we can all hang out.” “Sure.” She took the card with a smile and tucked it into her pocket and she and Jillian returned to their seats.

“They’re nice,” Jillian said. “I guess.” Flirting was fun, sure, so why did she keep thinking of taciturn Captain Codger? And there he was, on the ice, ready for the opening face-off of the third period, his face intense behind his visor. She watched him take the face-off, legs spread so wide he was almost doing the splits, leaning on his stick so low to the ice. His stick flashed and he won the face-off, getting the puck to his winger. He immediately headed toward the net. Lovey bit her lip, eyes flicking from him to the play, back to him. He took a neat pass, still driving to the

net, took a shot that rebounded off the goalie’s pads. It was handled by Duncan as Marc rounded to the back of the net. She recalled what he’d been saying earlier and she watched eagerly, edging forward in her seat as the puck flew from one stick to another, finally back to Marc, who came from behind the net. As if he had all the time in the world, he played with it a bit, stickhandling with his head up, watching the defense and the goalie, and with a sharp flick of his wrists the puck flew past the net minder and into the goal. The crowd erupted as the horn

blasted and Lovey and Jillian jumped to their feet along with everyone else. A wide smile crossed her face as she cheered and clapped. “DUDE!” she yelled, although Marc couldn’t hear. As he skated past the bench, smacking gloves with his teammates, she saw his smile, and holy cheese whiz, he had a gorgeous smile. Even with his mouth guard in, it was wide and dazzling. Wow. What would it feel like to have that smile directed at her? She swore she caught his eye as he entered the player’s bench and she shivered a little. For the rest of the game, he

continued to lead by example, playing hard, hitting hard, skating hard. On his next shift, he fed the puck to Duncan for another goal, to tie the game. Lovey jumped up and down, clapping. “Yay!” Now the crowd was energized again, the atmosphere electric for the next face-off. Marc was on the bench and Lovey’s eyes were drawn to him, watching as a trainer toweled his visor off for him and helped him replace his helmet, then gave him a smack of encouragement on the shoulder. His back was to her but she could

tell he was focused intently on the game. “One more, guys,” she muttered. “One more. Come on!” Then the whistle blew and a penalty was called against the Aces, against Olaf Pilkvist. “Goalie interference?” Lovey cried. “Are you kidding me? He was totally pushed into the net!” They watched the replay several times; it was crystal clear that Olaf hadn’t deserved the penalty. Lovey watched Marc on the ice arguing with the ref, as the team captain the only one who could do that. Of course it was to no avail; the ref wasn’t going to change his mind.

But there were reasons Marc had to argue: one of them, so his team saw him standing up for them; another, so the ref and linesman were on notice that they’d made a bad call. She couldn’t hear what Marc was saying. It appeared to be a fairly heated discussion, but the ref was allowing it, so Marc probably wasn’t shouting profanity at him. Olaf went to the penalty box for two minutes. The crowd was on the edge of their seats watching the Aces play shorthanded. When the penalty ended, there would be only three minutes left in the game, so they

needed to kill this penalty and then try for one more goal for the win. But just as the penalty ended and before Olaf could skate from the penalty box to the play at their end, one of the Bruins scored. The atmosphere in the arena deflated. “Shit.” Lovey slumped back in her seat. She watched with other disappointed fans as the Bruins then scored an empty net goal when Brent was pulled from the goal, ending the game at four-two for Boston. “No need to rush out,” she said to Jillian with a sigh. “They’ll be doing

media interviews for a bit. Though Duncan does change pretty quickly.” They watched as the three stars were announced, Marc getting the third star despite the loss. Lovey smiled as he tossed his stick over the glass to a kid who was beyond excited, and when Marc flashed that smile again at the boy, her heart gave a little bump. She wanted him. She gave a small sigh of acceptance. She’d admitted it. They hung out for a while waiting for Duncan’s text message. Going to Eddy’s for food. Coming?

She looked up at Jillian. “They’re going to Eddy’s. Wanna go?” “Sure!” “I assume you know where it is,” she said to Jillian as they strolled to an exit. “Yeah. It’s not exactly walking distance from here.” “We can wait for Duncan. I’ll see how much longer he’ll be.” She texted back and forth with him and eventually they met up with him at an exit. She introduced him and Jillian and they headed out to Duncan’s new vehicle. Jillian climbed into the back, leaving the front seat for Lovey. Lovey turned

to her friend. “Should I text those guys we met and tell them where we’re going?” “Yeah! They seemed like fun.” “What guys?” Duncan demanded. Lovey’s thumbs were busy. “Some guys we met in the second intermission.” Duncan frowned as he pulled out of his parking spot. “Jesus, Lovey.” “What?” She looked up from her phone. “You don’t want me dating hockey players. You apparently don’t want me dating anyone. Would it make you feel better if I told you Jillian’s a lesbian and she and I are dating?”

A choking sound came from the backseat. “Jesus Christ,” Duncan muttered. Lovey glanced behind her and saw Jillian shaking with silent laughter. “Your sister’s hot, dude,” Jillian said. “Can’t keep my hands off her.” “That is not funny,” Duncan growled. Now Lovey dissolved into giggles. “You should see your face.” He made a growling noise. “You’re gonna kill me, Lovey.” “You love me,” she said with complete confidence and a smile.

“You are not a lesbian.” “How do you know that?” He frowned. “Was that the problem with Richard?” Now she wanted to choke on her laughter. “Huh. Maybe it was.” Was he actually falling for this? She bit her lip. “By the way, nice goal in the third period there.” “Thanks.” “Hey, Jillian works for Moens Breweries,” Lovey said. “In marketing.” “Oh yeah? Cool. You know Donovan Church?” “Um, sure,” Jillian said, her voice

dry. “I hang out with the CEO all the time. Not. I’m just an associate brand manager.” “Oh. Well, he’s a good guy.” “Yeah, I think he is. From what little I’ve had to do with him.” They arrived at the restaurant and Duncan let them out in front, then drove away to find parking. Jillian and Lovey walked in and surveyed the room. “There are some of the guys,” she said, going on her toes and waving. “This way.” She led Jillian toward Jared and Brent. She experienced a pang of disappointment to see Marc wasn’t there. Then she remembered that

he was meeting all those kids to get his picture taken with them and sign autographs. They were soon joined by Corey, Hakim, and Josh, who were taken aback and impressed to find the girls hanging out with some of the Chicago Aces. They started talking to the guys about the game, and Jillian and Lovey exchanged amused glances at being sidelined like that. It didn’t last long. A couple more players joined them along with their girlfriends, food and drinks were ordered, conversation veered away from hockey to other topics,

and more flirting. About an hour later, Marc arrived.

Chapter 7 Marc walked into Eddy’s, the last to arrive as usual. He’d been pissed off when he was the only one available to the media after the game, everyone else hiding in the screening room, even their veterans, Hallsy and Pauly. Yeah, he was sick of the same questions from reporters and the same tired answers, but so what? That was part of the deal. He’d stomped to the locker room and yelled at them to man up and get their asses out

there. Yeah, they kept playing like shit and losing, but that was not a reason to hide out. Fuck that noise. They got paid the big bucks and they were accountable to the media and their fans and they damn well had to own their shitty play and hold their heads up and talk to people. Going up to see those sick kids in the suite afterward had chased away his black mood, though. How could you be down when they were so excited to be there, pumped about the game even though the Aces had lost. These kids were battling things way more important than a fucking

hockey game. It helped him keep things in perspective as much as it helped cheer them. Now seeing Lovey perched on a high stool at a table laughing made that hard knot of disappointment in his gut loosen even more. His feet slowed in their progression through the crowded restaurant/bar, and he actually stopped to watch her for a few seconds. She was all bright light and warmth, dazzling him, making him want to go stand near her and see if she could illuminate the darkness that was threatening to fill him up again. Spouting the same old platitudes

to the media was getting painful. Talking to one another after every loss about what was going wrong was excruciating. But she was… radiant. Then he saw the big blond guy she was laughing with and his gut clenched again. Damn. He forced his feet to move him toward the table, still watching Lovey as she turned to a woman beside her, a pretty brunette, and said something. Then the woman turned to Army, next to her, also said something, and Army burst out laughing. Army laughing was good. He too

had been pretty black in the dressing room after the game, the mood there bleak and quiet. Marc arrived at the big table with people crowded around it. “Hey,” he said. “Duper!” Stoykers shouted. “At long last you arrive! You the man tonight, Super Duper!” He raised a hand in a high five, which Marc returned with a wry grin and a shrug. “We still lost.” His two goals were meaningless if it didn’t result in a win. He accepted congratulations and fist bumps, ordered a beer, then let Army introduce him to Lovey’s

friend. “This is Jillian,” Army said. “Lovey’s lesbian lover.” Every male head at the table snapped to attention. Marc’s throat closed up and he wheezed. “Uh…whut…?” “Yeah, she’s the reason things didn’t work out with Lovey’s ex,” Army continued. Marc’s mouth dropped open as he watched Lovey slide her arm around Jillian’s waist, lean in, and kiss her cheek. He swore every guy at the table groaned. Duncan looked strangely

gleeful. What the ever-loving fuck? Lovey was no lesbian, that was for damnfuckingsure. Or…? No. No fucking way. Marc narrowed his eyes at the two women. But damn, they made a pretty picture together. No wonder every guy was hurting. Fucking hell. Okay. He needed to stop cursing, get his mind out of the gutter, and drink a beer. Or ten. Lovey laughed. Her eyes sparkled. She and Jillian exchanged amused glances. Did Army fucking seriously believe she was a lesbian? Jesus, he

was an idiot. Marc shook his head. Lovey looked at him and their eyes met. Her luminous smile pulled at him and he moved toward her and leaned down to speak into her ear. “Lesbian lover?” She beamed up at him, eyes twinkling. “You don’t believe it?” “Not a chance. What the hell is he talking about?” She rolled her eyes. “He was lecturing me about who I date again, so I told him I was dating Jillian.” He stared at her for a minute. Then he couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “Christ,” he gasped.

He laughed more, then he shifted position to look at Army. “You’re an idiot, man.” “What?” Army frowned. “Your sister is not a lesbian.” “I know that. But these guys don’t.” He gave a satisfied smile. “They’ll leave her alone now.” “Are you kidding?” Marc shook his head. “Every guy is now fantasizing about a threesome with Lovey and her friend.” Army’s jaw dropped. He sent a scowling glare around the table. “Shut the fuck up.” Marc shook his head, unable to

stop chuckling. “Dude. You had to expect that.” Army’s face got red, like his blood pressure had risen rapidly. “There will be no threesomes,” he said in a quiet, tight voice to Lovey. She was laughing too, holding on to the table to keep from falling off her stool. “Oh my God, Duncan. You are hilarious. Would you just butt out of my sex life?” “Did someone say butt sex?” Rupper spoke from behind Lovey. “Didn’t know you were into that, Armdog.” Army’s face now became purple. “I’m not!”

Lovey patted her brother’s cheek, still chortling. “It’s okay if you are. Your sex life is your own business.” Marc laughed again. Christ, he hadn’t had this much fun in…well, he wasn’t sure. His abs actually hurt from laughing. And that was when he realized that cold hard knot was…gone. “Okay, okay, everyone,” Lovey called, holding up her hands. “Jillian and I are not lesbians.” She paused. “That doesn’t mean a threesome is off the table, though.” Army clenched his fists and growled as everyone laughed. Marc slapped his teammate’s

back. “You need another beer, Army. I’ll buy.” It wasn’t long before Marc regretted that this Corey dude knew Lovey was into guys, because he was hitting on her big-time. This pissed Marc off. He listened to them talk about hockey. “Are you kidding?” Lovey said. “Bennet is totally underrated. The offensive guys get all the attention because they score goals, but he’s good—always in position, blocks all kinds of shots.” Corey gave her an amused look. “You sound like you actually know what you’re talking about.”

Lovey froze, then tipped her head. “You did not just say that.” “Uh…” Her eyes narrowed at him. “You think because I’m a girl I don’t know what I’m talking about?” “I…uh…didn’t mean that…” “Yeah. You did.” She shook her head. “She’s right, man,” Marc said to Corey. “Bennet is better than people think. He’s a quiet guy, he plays in a quiet way. He’s smart and he’s a good skater. We notice the things he does, even if everyone else doesn’t.”

Lovey met his eyes. A slow smile curved her mouth and it felt like a kick to his heart. “Thanks. Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room.” Heh. She was good. Damn good. A strange feeling of pride swelled inside him. Hell. What the fuck was he proud about? She wasn’t his. But he wanted her. There. He’d admitted it. He wanted her to pull him into that circle of light and warmth she seemed to create everywhere she went, to ease his pain and frustration, to make things seem good again. But he couldn’t have

her. He knew that. Army would hurt him if he touched her. He had no intention of touching her. He’d just have to ignore guys hitting on her and her flirting with them. When Lovey returned, she ended up talking to Stoykers and Hughie. Marc grinned. That Corey dude was done. What an idiot. But then she was flirting with other guys. Marc would be driving, so he couldn’t drink the ten beers he wanted. Too bad this wasn’t a night he’d let Duncan drive. After watching Lovey flirt for a couple of hours, Marc had had enough.

“Gonna head out,” he said to the others, sliding off his stool. He reached for his jacket, which was hanging nearby. “I’m ready to go too,” Lovey said. “Can I get a ride home with you?” He hesitated. He glanced at Army, who just shrugged. “How about you, Jillian? Need a ride?” “That would be great,” she said. “But I could take a taxi.” “No problem, I can drive you. Where do you live?” She gave him her address in Streeterville, just a short detour out of their way, and he nodded and headed out with the two women.

“No threesomes!” Jared called as they walked out. Marc shook his head, grinning. Lovey and Jillian chatted all the way to Jillian’s apartment, mostly about Hakim, and Jillian’s plan to see him the next afternoon to go skating at Millennium Park. They dropped her off, and then it was just Lovey and him in the vehicle. He turned up the music—Arcade Fire. “Great song,” Lovey said. “Love their new album. You like indie music?” He nodded. “You played great tonight,” she said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell

you that at Eddy’s. I saw you go behind the net, just like you were talking about, and I knew you were going to score.” “Yeah?” “Yup. You were really playing hard, especially in the third period. Too bad the rest of the team wasn’t. And that bad call against Olaf cost you the game.” “Nah. We can’t blame the refs. One call doesn’t lose a game. We should’ve played better.” They were a team. They didn’t win or lose a game because of how one guy played or because of one shitty penalty. He couldn’t blame anyone

else for the loss. At least, not out loud. Inside his head, though, he was concerned about a couple of the guys. “I try to get them going by playing the best I can.” “That’s why you’re the captain.” He shrugged. “Do you practice tomorrow?” “Nope. We get the day off.” “That’s nice. What are you going to do?” “Eh…dunno. Haven’t planned anything. Work out, probably.” “Skating at Millennium Park sounds like fun.” She paused. “But then, skating is work for you, I

guess.” Was she asking him out? Did she want him to ask her out? It couldn’t happen. Tempting as it was to picture them skating together, laughing… Nope. Couldn’t happen. But heat shimmered in the interior of his SUV, the faint sweet vanilla cake and icing scent of her teasing him, the sincerity of her praise for his game warming him inside. He said nothing and tried to focus on navigating the snowy streets. “Were you thinking about a threesome?”

His head snapped around and his jaw went slack as he gaped at her. “What?” She smiled. “You said every guy there was thinking about a threesome with Jillian and me. Were you?” “Uh…” He choked a little. “Uh, no, of course not.” He was not entirely lying. Sure, the idea had popped into his head, he was a guy and that was a very pleasant fantasy. But if he was really honest, he’d mostly been thinking about a twosome—him and Lovey. He swallowed a groan of frustration. “I saw how you were looking at

me.” Fuck. Once again, he had a hard time finding words. “Looking at you?” “Yes. C’mon, Marc, admit it. There’s some kind of spark between us.” “No. No, there isn’t.” The words rushed out of his mouth. His heart picked up speed though, and desire surged through his body. He pulled into the underground parking garage beneath their condo and found his space near the elevator. He stopped with a sharp tap of the brakes that jolted the vehicle, slammed it into park, and

jumped out. He rounded the vehicle to open Lovey’s door, even though he wanted to bolt for the elevator. She leaped lightly to her feet and he flung the door shut and followed her toward the elevator, bleeping the locks over his shoulder. In the enclosed space of the elevator, she studied him, for a change not saying anything, but he saw the heated interest in her eyes, and the full curve of her bottom lip made him break out in a sweat. Jesus, he wanted that mouth. She apparently knew, and he realized he’d given himself away by staring at those lush lips when she

dragged her tongue over her bottom lip. His dick thickened and lengthened and he shifted his feet on the elevator floor, willing it to travel faster and the doors to open so he could make his escape and barricade himself in his bedroom. Heat built between them as they watched each other, and he dragged his eyes off her and stared at the elevator buttons as if they were about to shoot sparks at him. The doors slid open and he let her exit before him into the hall. She had her key out and used it to open the door, flicking the light switch right inside. She strolled into the

living room, unzipping her jacket and unwinding her scarf. “This view is amazing,” she said. “Look at it at night. With snow out there it’s even more sparkly.” “Yeah.” He hung his jacket in the closet and took off his boots. “Okay. G’night, Lovey.” She turned to face him, pulling her jacket off. So pretty. Her eyes were big and shadowy in her pale oval face, her lips shiny. The big loose sweater obscured her body, but he knew exactly what was hidden under it. Or almost exactly. Her little cami and panties that morning hadn’t hid much.

His hands itched and ached to touch. It was all he could do to stop himself from reaching out to take hold of her, pull her up against him. “You’re going to bed.” She stated it, her voice quiet. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.” And he started forward. She stepped in front of him. He pulled up, leaning back from her so far he almost lost his balance. She set her hands on his chest, then slid them up, curling her fingers around his neck. His body zoomed onto high alert, every nerve ending sizzling, his cock hardening. The feel of her soft, warm fingers on the

sensitive skin of his neck made his skin tingle everywhere. Fuck. Fuck, he was going down. “Marc,” she murmured. Every muscle tightened to the point of pain as he tried to resist the lust that burned through him. “Lovey,” he croaked. “Don’t do this.” “Why not?” Her fingertips rubbed the back of his neck and she stared up at him with parted lips and heavy-lidded eyes. Fuck, he wanted to taste her mouth, wanted his tongue inside her, wanted to crush her up against him. Army. Army would kill him. He’d cut off his balls and shove them up

his nostrils. Even that thought did nothing to make his dick soften. His hands somehow landed on Lovey’s hips. Somehow her body was touching his. He stared at her mouth, his breath tightening in his chest. Then she went on her toes, her eyelids drifting down, her mouth coming closer. He couldn’t stop his arms from circling her. Fuck, she felt fantastic, all soft curves, silky hair, and warm skin. A groan rumbled in his chest as her mouth touched his. He lost his mind. He wrapped her up and pulled

her tighter to him, almost lifting her off her feet. He tilted his head and met her mouth, and Jesus, she was sweet and soft. She made a muffled little sound in her throat that was hot as hell, her arms winding around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, pulling herself up against him so her soft breasts were crushed to his chest and, fuck, that felt good. He opened his mouth on hers and she opened too, deepening the kiss. His mind fogged with lust, and flames burned beneath his skin. His dick was so hard now it hurt, throbbing with need, her softness

pressing against it and making him crazy. Yeah. Oh yeah. His hand slid up the center of her back, into her long hair, and he twisted his fingers in it. The silky strands wrapped around his hand and he gave a gentle tug, then gathered the hair all up in a fist at the back of her head. Her soft moan made his blood run even hotter. His other hand slid lower, over the curve of her ass, pulling her tighter against him. Yeah. That ass. He’d watched her little butt cheeks twitch as she’d walked away that morning and he’d been dying to feel them, palm them, squeeze them.

Now he had his hand on her ass, but it was over her jeans, and he wanted more, wanted skin. His hand delved up beneath the hem of the sweater, then pushed down inside her low-rise jeans. Really low-rise. It wasn’t far, but her jeans were tight and his hand was big. Still, he managed to fill his palm with smooth, warm flesh. He slid his tongue inside her mouth, groaning again as he did so. He angled his head to kiss her deeply, desperate. What was it about her that made him this crazy? He was out of his fucking mind to be doing this. He was going to

stop… She whimpered so sweetly into his mouth, practically climbing his body. “You are so not a lesbian,” he muttered, and her mouth curved against him and she shook a little with laughter. “Captain Codger.” She brushed her lips over his cheek. “I do believe you just made a joke.” He smiled too before he took her mouth with his again, a long, wet, hot kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her…her taste, her smell, the feel of her in his arms, his hands… Oh right. He was going to stop.

He had to stop. His body was on fire, especially his dick. Excitement pounded through him. He’d never felt so reckless and out of control, willing to just throw good sense out the window, scoop up Lovey, and carry her to his bed. The scratch of a key in the lock reached his ears. It took seconds to process the noise through the pounding of his blood in his ears, but when it finally sank in, adrenaline flashed through him and he shoved Lovey away from him. She stood there blinking, lips swollen and wet, eyes dazed, hair a

tangled mess. “Army,” he muttered as the door opened. He took several long strides across to the kitchen, yanked open the fridge door, and grabbed a bottle of water. He had the cap off and the bottle to his lips when Army walked in. Lovey, fortunately, had clued in and ran her hands through her hair, moving to the couch. “Hey, you’re still up.” Army dropped his keys on the small console table inside the door. “You didn’t stay long after us,” Lovey commented, her voice a little huskier than usual. “Nah. I was done. Gonna hit the

sack.” He paused and gave Lovey a look. “Did you get some flannel pajamas?” She blinked. “No.” “Then you sleep in my room.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll sleep in my leggings or something. You don’t need to sleep on the couch.” She cast a glance Marc’s way. “Unless you guys are staying up late. Because I’m ready to go to bed now.” Another quick look at him from beneath her lashes. Fuck. “Nah, I’m going to bed right away. Just need one of those.” He nodded at Marc’s water bottle.

“I was going to turn in too,” Marc said, making his escape. “Night.” He hoofed it down the hall, into his room, and closed the door. Sacre bleu de Tabarnak! That had been close. Too fucking close. That could not happen again. Briefly he contemplated moving out. He was planning to get a place of his own eventually, but after Marissa had dumped him and he’d moved in with Army, he’d been procrastinating. He was comfortable there. Until now. This could be the time. But damn, he and Army got each other and got along great, and the other guys liked

hanging out there too. Living on his own would likely mean he’d have no social life. Nah. That was stupid. He’d still hang out with Army and the boys. He really needed to get his own place. He also needed to use the bathroom. He cracked the door open. He could hear Lovey and Army talking in low voices—no doubt arguing over who was going to sleep on the couch. He zoomed into the bathroom, did what he needed to do, and then trucked back into his room. He let out a long breath. He set

his hands on the back of his neck and stretched his spine. Some bruises and sore muscles twinged and reminded him of a few hard hits into the boards earlier, but mostly his body still pulsed from kissing Lovey. Holding her. Fuck. He pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it over the arm of the chair. It wasn’t like him to leave his clothes lying around. He normally hung everything up or put it in the laundry hamper as soon as he took it off. Tonight, he couldn’t wait to get into bed and jerk off. Naked, he climbed into bed. With a long exhalation he slid his hand

down to his aching cock. He closed his eyes in the dark room and stroked himself. Lovey’s face appeared. He imagined her scent, remembered the feel of her tits against him and the taste of her tongue in his mouth. The warm glow that seemed to transfer from her to him, making him feel like anything was possible. A soft click reached his ears but it took him a couple of seconds to react. His hand jerked away from his dick, his head snapped up, and his eyes opened. What the fuck? A faint light flashed as the door opened and closed. He sat up,

covers falling to his waist, peering into the darkness. A faint rustle sounded. Someone was walking across the carpet. He recognized that shape and the way she moved. Lovey approached his bed, silhouetted in dark and shadow. He gripped the covers. “Lovey,” he whispered roughly. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Chapter 8 “Shhh.” Lovey crossed the dark room toward the shadowy shape of Marc’s bed. “Duncan’ll hear you.” “Fuck!” She sat on the side of the bed, but before she could even settle, he’d rolled and leaped out on the other side of the big king-size bed. She stared at him. His body was cloaked in shadow but she could still see how freakin’ ripped he was. And big. Heavily muscled shoulders, lean waist and

hips, thick thighs. His ass made her eyes go wide, it was so firm and round. Sadly, he grabbed a pair of boxers and jumped into them. Then he rounded the bed and closed his big hand around her upper arm, pulling her to her feet none too gently. “Hey,” she whispered. “What?” “Get the hell out of here, Lovey.” He dragged her toward the door. Her feet tripped along. “Wait! Marc!” She tried to dig her heels into the carpet, but he was way bigger and stronger than her. He whipped his door open, stuck his head out, and looked one way,

then the other. “You sleeping on the couch?” he whispered. “Or is Duncan?” “I am, but—” “Fucking figures,” he muttered. “You get your way again.” Then he started down the hall, shuffling her along with him. In the living room he gently shoved her and she fell onto the couch. Her hair slid across her face and she gasped. “Don’t ever come in my room again,” he snarled. “For fuck’s sake.” “But…but wait. Marc…you kissed me—”

“No. You kissed me. I don’t want anything to do with you.” A sharp pain stabbed Lovey’s heart and her stomach tightened. “What? But—” “Stay here. Go to sleep. Leave me alone.” And he strode out of the room. She heard the quiet snick of his door closing. She sat on the couch, sheets, a blanket, and a pillow arranged into her makeshift bed, which she’d had no intention of using tonight. After Duncan had disappeared into his room, she’d made the bed, gone to her empty room to change into her

panties and cami, then padded across the hall to Marc’s room. Her chest ached and her bottom lip quivered. That was harsh. Confusion swirled in her head. He had kissed her. Okay, she’d started it, but he’d kissed her back, dammit. He’d had his hands all over her, down the back of her pants and on her ass, and he’d liked it. He’d been hard, for the love of cheese! She lowered her chin and closed her eyes, a hot wave of humiliation sweeping over her. Holy frack. How embarrassing. Her skin burned and so did her

eyes as she fought back tears. Wow. She covered her face with her hands, massaging her temples with her fingertips. She’d never been so rudely rejected by a guy. What an asshole. They were attracted to each other. She knew it. He knew it. Why was he being such a jerk about it? Duncan. She flopped back against the couch. Yeah, Duncan had made it clear he didn’t want her getting involved with Marc or any of his teammates. He’d probably made that clear to Marc too.

It was none of Duncan’s business. But she could understand that Marc wouldn’t want to piss off his friend, roommate, and teammate. She made a small strangled noise that was probably a repressed scream of frustration as she burrowed into the covers and pulled them up to her chin. So, fine, he was trying to do the right thing, but he didn’t need to be so mean about it. She squeezed her eyes closed. She just wanted to have fun—hot, sexy fun with an attractive guy. She wasn’t looking for anything more.

What was so wrong with that? As usual, her big brother was standing in the way of that. She loved Duncan, but her whole life she’d taken a backseat to him. And yet, here she was, crashing on his couch. She’d created this situation and she would have to deal with it. The reality was, she had nowhere else to go. She had some savings, but without a steady paycheck she needed to hang on to that money. If she was going to stay here with Duncan, she was going to have to play by his rules. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow.

There was chemistry between her and Marc, no doubt about it, and he probably didn’t want to piss off Duncan, but there was also the possibility that he saw her as Duncan’s screwup little sister who couldn’t hold down a job or keep a man and didn’t know what she wanted out of life. He was a respected professional, captain of the Aces, paid millions of dollars, and loved by hockey fans all over North America. Why would someone like him be interested in her, even if all she wanted was a little fun? Oh right. He didn’t do fun.

Well, she had no intention of settling for anything less than fun. She could figure out what she wanted from life and work hard at that, and have fun at the same time. She’d just have fun with somebody else. — They all slept in the next morning, although when Lovey finally got up, she heard the sounds of a television in Marc’s room as she shuffled into the bathroom. He’d probably been awake for hours and was afraid to come out of his room in case she tried to jump him.

Phhht. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, gathered her hair up into a messy knot on her head, didn’t bother with makeup, and then went into her room to get dressed. She pulled on another pair of leggings, patterned knit ones, and a big loose sweater, today a black one. She added a scarf looped twice around her neck and sat on the floor to put on socks. Then she emerged to hunt down something for breakfast. She cast a baleful look at Marc’s door as she passed it. Should she let him know she was up and he could safely come out? Nah.

Duncan was in the kitchen making toast and drinking orange juice. “Morning,” she said. “Hey. Sleep okay?” “Fantastic.” He lifted an eyebrow at her sarcastic tone. She skipped the juice and went straight for coffee, frowning at the numerous slices of bread Duncan was spreading with peanut butter. She opened the fridge door and peered in. “Can I have one of those Greek yogurts?” “They’re Marc’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll go shopping later and buy him a replacement.” She slammed the door shut and rummaged for a spoon. “And I’ll get some things for myself. This place is a carb castle.” “We eat lots of protein,” he objected. “Just usually at the arena.” “Or in a restaurant. But since you both make so much money, I guess that’s not an issue. I’ll get myself some chicken breasts, fish, and veggies.” “Uh…you sure you slept okay? You sound kinda bitchy today.” She gave him a slitty-eyed look. “Bitchy?”

“Uh…no, no, I mean…” “I’m fine,” she snapped. She spooned up some of the yogurt and honey. “What are you doing today?” “Uh…not sure. I thought you and I should have a talk…” His voice trailed off as she leveled him with another look. “About what?” “About your plans. Uh…why you quit your job…what happened with Richard…” She continued to hold his gaze. “Maybe this isn’t a good day.” “Or maybe never is a good day.” “C’mon, Lovey, I’m just

concerned about you.” “I’m fine.” “Mom and Dad are worried about you too.” “What?” She frowned. “Mom emailed me and said you were coming. She wanted to make sure you’re okay, because you and Richard had broken up and she was worried your heart was broken and that’s why you’d taken off.” Her mouth dropped open. “Oh. Um. Well, my heart’s not broken.” “What happened with Richard?” “He wanted to get married and have babies.”

A noise from behind her caused her to turn, and she saw Marc. Her stomach swooped and her heart gave a little bump. “Good morning. Would you like to hear about my screwed-up life too?” He cast a wary look at Duncan. “Uh…” Lovey waved her spoon. “Never mind. I’m sure you heard that last part. Richard was eleven years older than me. He was ready to settle down. I wasn’t. After I broke up with him, I couldn’t stay working at Kleinheinz, so I left. I wasn’t entirely happy there anyway. My creative ideas for marketing cheese

weren’t really what they were looking for, and the whole nine-tofive thing bugged me.” “You think that’s going to be different somewhere else?” Duncan asked. Marc held up his hands. “I’ll come back.” “No, no, don’t let me interfere with your breakfast.” Lovey pushed away from the counter where she leaned. “This is your place.” She held up the yogurt container. “I understand this is yours, but I’ll replace it later.” “Don’t worry about it.” “I’ll replace it. I know I’m butting

in here and I don’t want to put you out. So are we done?” She looked at Duncan. “Fuck no, we’re not done. What are you planning to do here in Chicago? I assume you’re going to look for another job?” She shrugged. “I don’t know.” “Lovey, for Chrissakes…” Her chest squeezed. She was not in the mood for this. She was irritable, impatient, and badtempered. “Don’t worry, Dunc, I’ll be gone as soon as I can. Jillian’s checking around to see if anyone she knows needs a roommate. I’ll find

something cheap.” “You can stay as long as you need to.” “That’s not what you were saying yesterday.” He rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you’re pissy today. What crawled up your butt?” She cast another narrow-eyed look at Marc, briefly meeting his eyes, then looked back at Duncan with her chin lifted. “Nothing. So. I have stuff to do. I’ll see you later.” She grabbed her laptop case and carried it and her cup of coffee into the empty bedroom. She plugged in the computer and turned it on. She

settled herself on the carpeted floor, leaning against the wall, ready to check emails and various news and then social media sites. It was Sunday, but even so, she would do some work for her clients. She spent a couple of hours working, changing position several times to get comfortable; not having a desk was a major pain the butt. And neck. And wrists. Hopefully her furniture would be able to be shipped quickly. She sent off a quick email to her mom to check on that and to assure Mom she wasn’t brokenhearted over Richard and was fine.

Then she powered down her computer and popped into the bathroom. Before going out she needed a little cosmetic armor. She put on some eye shadow and mascara, and a swipe of lip gloss. When she came out of the bathroom, Marc’s bedroom door was closed. Whatever. She headed out, not sure where she was going, but she’d figure it out. She wanted to explore her new neighborhood, even if it was only a temporary home. She needed to find a store where she could pick up some groceries. She needed a

reason to get out of that condo and stay out for the rest of the day. Today the sun was out and the unexpected snow from yesterday was melting. Streets and sidewalks were a slushy mess. With boots and gloves, and her big scarf snuggled up around her chin, she was quite comfortable walking for a while. She explored the South Loop neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon, walking through Millennium Park, lingering at the “Bean” sculpture, then wandered past funky little restaurants and pubs, a wine shop, a shoe boutique, and a used bookstore. She passed a

small Italian market and noted its location to return to on her way home. She went into the Museum of Contemporary Photography, partly because she needed to warm up and partly because of her interest in photography. She’d always liked taking pictures and had done a couple of college courses in photography as part of her Visual Arts diploma. She returned home several hours later carrying a few plastic bags of food. She let herself into the condo, not sure what to expect, but a bunch of big guys on stools at the

kitchen island wasn’t it. She swept them with her gaze. Jared, Brent, Hughie, and Olaf. Not Marc and not Duncan. She dropped her bags, hung up her jacket, and removed her boots, then lifted the groceries and carried them into the kitchen. “Hey, guys. What’s up?” “Not much.” Brent jumped up to help her with the bags. So sweet. “Waiting for Duper and Army to get home.” “Oh. Where are they?” “They went for a run. Then we’re going to eat. Burgers. Wanna come?” She pursed her lips as she pulled

food out of the bags. Greek yogurt. Cottage cheese. Bags of spinach. Fruit. “I don’t know. Sounds like fun, but Duncan probably doesn’t want me to tag along.” “Huh. You’re probably right. He already told us you’re off-limits.” She lifted her eyebrows, pausing. “He did?” “Hell yeah. It’s the rule.” “The rule?” They explained it to her. “We told him we’re all nice guys and he should be happy if you went out with one of us.” Hughie grinned. “He wasn’t buying it.”

“He’s a little overprotective,” Lovey said dryly. “You know what? I’d love to come for burgers.” “Attagirl.” Jared nodded with a grin. “Want a beer?” He nodded at the empties on the counter. “Yeah. I do.” She smiled at him. Damn, he was gorgeous, and always dressed so well and perfectly groomed. And yet, she wasn’t even a little interested in him. She sighed. Jared opened the fridge and pulled a beer out, then opened it for her. “Thanks.” She lifted it in a small toast. “You guys just come in here and make yourselves at home?”

“Yup. And drink Army’s beer. Cheers.” Lovey reached for one more shopping bag. She wasn’t sure why she’d bought two big bags of tortilla chips and two jars of salsa, but this seemed the perfect time to break them open. “Oh man, chips,” Jared said with appreciation. “You rock, Lovey.” She grinned as she found a couple of bowls and filled them, then climbed onto a stool. “Did you stay late last night at Eddy’s?” The guys all dove into the chips like they hadn’t eaten in a year. “Depends what you consider late. I

left around two,” Jared said. “That’s late.” “So Lovey, what do you do for a living?” Brent asked. “I’m in marketing and visual arts. In Madison, I was working for Kleinheinz Cheese.” Silence. Then Hughie said, “Cheese?” “Yeah.” She grinned. “Come on, guys, it’s Wisconsin.” They all nodded. “I was working with ad agencies, coming up with slogans like ‘Sometimes you feel like a cheese, sometimes you don’t.’ ”

They guffawed. “And ‘please don’t squeeze the cheese.’ ” “ ‘Good to the last cheese’?” Hughie said. Lovey laughed with delight. “Yes! You got it.” “I know a good joke about cheese,” Brent said. He paused. “Well, actually it’s about mice.” Lovey smiled. “Three mice are in a bar talking about which one of them’s the toughest. One mouse says, ‘I’m so tough I go up to the mousetrap and rip the cheese out.’ The other says, ‘I’m so tough I snort rat poison.’ The third mouse

finishes his beer and gets up to leave. ‘Where you going?’ asks the first mouse. The third one says, ‘I’m going home to fuck the cat.’ ” The guys all roared with laughter and Lovey giggled along with them. Then Brent said, “Uh, sorry, language.” Lovey waved a hand. “God, don’t worry about it. I grew up with Duncan and all his hockey player friends.” “True that.” “I know some stupid cheese jokes,” she said. “How do you get a mouse to smile?” She paused for a beat. “Say cheese!” They all

groaned, but she grinned. “Okay, how about this one—what do you call cheese that is sad? Blue cheese.” More groans, but reluctant laughs too. “Not cheese jokes,” Hughie said. “Cheesy jokes.” She grinned. “Ha! Exactly. What do you call cheese that isn’t yours? Nacho cheese!” This time they laughed. “What’s going on?” Everyone turned at Duncan’s voice. “Hey, Armdog, you’re home,” Jared said.

Marc walked in too, looking at the laughing group at the table. “Just hanging out waiting for you two,” Jared said. “Lovey’s been entertaining us with cheesy jokes.” He grinned. “They’ve been waiting here for hours.” Lovey winked at Jared. Duncan frowned at her. “They invited me to go for burgers,” she said. “Sounds great.” Marc frowned too. Fuck him and his Captain Codger stick up his ass. Her own thoughts made her smile and she lifted her beer to her

lips. “You assholes are drinking all my beer,” Marc said. “It’s not like you can’t afford your own.” “Dude,” Hughie said. “We brought more. Don’t get your shorts in a twist.” “Lovey probably doesn’t want to hang out with you losers,” Duncan said with a meaningful look at her. She drained her beer and set it down on the granite countertop. “Sure I do. We were having fun— right, guys?” “Right.” They all smiled at her. Duncan muttered something

under his breath and Marc’s face tightened. “I bought you more yogurt,” she said to Marc. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Fine,” Duncan said. “We need to shower. Be right back.” They took off to their respective rooms and returned a short time later, damp-haired and now dressed in jeans. The tavern they went to was only two blocks away—Lovey had passed it earlier—so they walked there. It was dusk now, lights coming on all around them. Lovey pushed her hands into her jacket pockets and

lowered her chin into her big scarf. She’d been in a grouchy mood earlier—bitchy, as Duncan had so bluntly put it—but she felt better now. She was never one to stay down for long. Although she was still bitter about Marc and his rude rejection of her. She ignored him throughout dinner, flirting and laughing with the others. They were all good guys. There was no spark of attraction like there was with Marc, but that was okay. She needed friends now that she’d moved to Chicago, and guys made good friends too. They stayed in the tavern for a

while after they’d eaten, watching— what else—a hockey game on the big-screen television. St. Louis vs. Vancouver. She liked listening to the guys comment on the play, trash-talking some players, or admiring another player’s shot or stick-handling. Lovey watched the attention the guys attracted from other patrons, male and female alike. Did people wonder why she was the only girl there? She shrugged. They probably figured she was someone’s girlfriend. Speaking of which, these guys needed girlfriends. Why were they

all single? Right, Olaf had a girlfriend. And she knew why Duncan was still single. It was because he was a complete redneck goof. That beard he now wore probably didn’t help. As for Marc— well, he was an asshole. She dismissed them. Andrew apparently had no trouble finding women on his own; the guys said he’d been dating someone different every weekend since he’d arrived in Chicago last month. She’d have to find girls for Jared, Brent, and Hughie. A few people approached for autographs and the guys were all

polite and agreeable, chatting with them about the game last night, the upcoming home game on Tuesday night, and their chances of making the playoffs. Then they walked home through dark streets. Lovey’d never felt safer, with all these big, strong, tough guys escorting her. They laughed all the way home, everyone full of smart-ass comments— including, much to Lovey’s surprise, Marc. Huh. Apparently he did have a sense of humor. He kept it well hidden. Jerk.

Chapter 9 Marc was staying away from her. Far away. After she’d invaded his room last night and attacked him— okay, fuck, he was exaggerating as much as she did now—he’d resolved he was not going near her. Never gonna touch her. Never never never. Fuck. Once they arrived back at the condo, he disappeared into his room. The other guys all headed home and Army and Lovey turned

on the television and were now out there arguing about what to watch. Seeing her that morning shooting shards of ice at him with her eyes had made his gut twist into knots. Then when they’d got home this afternoon and he saw her sitting in the kitchen with all those guys, giving them that dazzling smile, he’d felt like he’d had something stolen from him. And he wanted it back. Those other fuckers all laughing with her and apparently fucking mesmerized by her made him want to drive his fist into someone’s face. This did not bode well for the

game Tuesday night. What the fuck? He was the master of self-control. Mature. Selfdisciplined. Some flaky chick was not going to throw him off his game. Much. He’d gone overboard last night to push her away. He’d been an asshole. His gut had burned all night because of it. He’d seen the hurt look in her eyes and he’d felt like the biggest jerk on the planet. He couldn’t even explain why he’d been that way. Why he’d totally overreacted. He threw himself onto his bed

and reached for the remote control for his own TV, then started surfing. Nothing held his interest. Finally he settled on an old favorite, Die Hard. He heard noises as Army went to bed and Lovey used the bathroom. The bathroom he had to share with her, that smelled like vanilla cupcakes. The little pink shaver that sat on a shelf in the shower made him imagine her all naked and soapy, shaving her legs. Fuck it. His insides still burned and churned. He could not let himself be so thrown by a woman. He had serious problems to deal with—a crappy start to the season

that he couldn’t explain, a team that was getting more demoralized and discouraged every day, a couple of teammates he was seriously worried about. He needed to stay focused on his career and turning things around before they found themselves out of the playoffs for the first time in fifteen years. He had to deal with this. He turned off his TV and tossed the remote on the bed as he swung his legs off it. He peered out into the hall, which was dark. The bathroom door was open, the room also dark. She’d already gone to bed. He hesitated, then squared his

shoulders and started down the hall. In the living room, he found her wrapped up in blankets, propped against some pillows, reading on a tablet that glowed in the darkness, illuminating her pretty face. She looked up as he approached. He didn’t get too close. He stopped and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Hey,” he said. “I just…I was…” She lowered the tablet and watched him. “I want to apologize,” he finally said. “Last night I was an asshole to you.”

“Yes. You were.” “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I overreacted liked that. I mean…I knew we shouldn’t be doing that, but I didn’t need to be such a jerk about it.” Her chin lowered a little and her mouth went soft. “No, you didn’t. But I appreciate the apology.” “It won’t happen again.” Her lips twitched. “What won’t? An apology?” “No. I meant, I won’t kiss you again.” “Damn.” His body tightened.

“So you admit you kissed me.” He sighed, pulling a hand out of one pocket to shove it through his messy hair. “Yeah. But like I said, it won’t happen again.” “I want it to happen.” Jesus. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? “Don’t,” he said quietly. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. We’re both adults. We’re attracted to each other. And don’t deny it. You acted like a big jerk, but you’re not stupid.” He nodded. “Okay, fair enough. Not gonna deny it.”

She smiled. “No,” he said warningly. “Nothing can happen.” To his surprise she nodded. “Okay.” He frowned. Hesitated. Then said, “Okay. Good. Glad we got this cleared up.” She smiled. “Me too.” “G’night, Lovey.” “Good night.” He walked back to his room. There. He’d apologized. He felt better. No, he didn’t. He still felt like someone had

stolen something from him. And he still wanted it back. Shit. — In the morning, Marc was up early for their morning practice. He wandered into the bathroom, yawning. Christ, he’d slept crappy. He pulled up short at seeing Lovey standing at the bathroom vanity. The door had been open and he’d walked right in on her. Wearing bra and panties, she leaned toward the mirror as she brushed mascara onto her eyelashes. She turned with a start

as he walked in. She blinked at him, holding the brush near her face. “Sorry.” He backed out. “Didn’t know you were in here.” “I’ll just be a minute!” she called. Fuck. He retreated to his room, the image of her seared into his brain, that shimmery ice-blue lace bra, low cut to reveal lush curves, and a pair of matching bikini panties. He pressed his fists to his eyes, remembering the smooth curves of her back, hips, and ass, her long bare legs. Jesus. Moments later she gave a rap on his open door and appeared there. Christ. She was still wearing

nothing but underwear. He knew he shouldn’t look, but it was impossible not to. “I’m done!” she said cheerfully. “Bathroom’s all yours.” Then she turned, giving him another view of that excellent ass. He was having a heart attack. Was that what that pain in his chest was? He rubbed a hand over his heart as he hauled himself back to the bathroom to shower. Once again, she’d filled the room with her sweet scent. Some kind of shimmery powder had spilled a little onto the marble vanity and her pink poufy sponge hung dripping

from a hook in the shower. He tried to block all that out. It wasn’t as if he’d never shared a bathroom with a woman before. He’d lived with Marissa for two years. Why was Lovey’s girl shit getting to him? She was in the kitchen when he’d finished showering, shaving, and dressing, sitting at the counter with her laptop open, eating Greek yogurt from a container, a steaming mug of coffee beside her computer. Thankfully she was now dressed, yet he couldn’t help but picture that sheer lacy lingerie beneath the turtleneck sweater and jeans she wore.

“Sorry about hogging the bathroom,” she said. “I don’t want to get in your way.” “No worries.” He grabbed the loaf of bread. “I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” “I have stuff to do.” “Like checking Facebook?” He glanced at her laptop. She looked up from her computer and blinked at him. “Actually, no. I’m reading ‘Women’s Wear Daily.’ ” “Oh.” Yeah, that was much better than Facebook. “What are you up to today? Job-hunting?”

She gave him a long, unreadable look. “Sure.” “You don’t sound enthusiastic.” “Are you going to be on my case, like my big brother?” He held up his hands, leaning against the counter. “Hell no. Just making conversation. It’s your life.” “Nice to hear someone say that,” she muttered. She focused on her screen and clicked her trackpad. “Wow. The Sutton Group is acquiring Elin Olsen.” Whatever that meant. The condo door opened and closed and Army appeared, carrying

a plastic shopping bag. “Had to get more chocolate milk.” He pulled a big jug out of the bag. “You driving to the arena with me?” “No, got some stuff to do after. Having lunch with Evert.” His agent. Army nodded. “Okay.” He looked at Lovey and opened his mouth. She held up a hand. “Please. Do not ask me if I’m going job-hunting today.” Army frowned. “Lovey—” “I have a plan.” She snapped down the lid on her laptop and picked it and her coffee mug up. “See you later.”

She disappeared down the hall. Army sighed. “Okay, I’m outta here. See you at the arena.” “You bet.” After Army had left, Marc looked at the closed door of Lovey’s bedroom. He’d apologized. But he still felt unsettled. Things seemed unfinished. But not only did he have to leave Lovey alone because of her brother, he had to stay focused. For a Stanley Cup champion team, it was humiliating to be playing so shitty. They had a game tomorrow, another chance to snap the winless streak and show their fans—and themselves—they

could still do it. Hockey had to come first. After practice, Marc found Dale Ronson, whose unofficial role was team enforcer. The guy was six foot six, two hundred eighty pounds. Sometimes he didn’t even have to fight guys to intimidate them—just a mean look would do it. He was out for surgery on his back last year and had been skating for only a few months. “Hey, man, got a few minutes?” “Yeah, sure. What’s up?” “Let’s go into the screening room.” They could have a little privacy in there.

When they got there, Marc leaned against a desk. “You were late to practice today.” Dale nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry.” “This wasn’t the first time. And you missed a team meeting last week. You doing okay? Your back bothering you?” Dale gave a brief shake of his head. “I’m okay. But yeah, my back still hurts. Probably always will.” “You still working with Tony?” Their head trainer. “Yeah. Sometimes.” “You need to stick with it, man.”

Marc paused. “You taking anything?” Dale gave him a brief, narroweyed look. “Yeah. Some painkillers.” Marc waited. “They don’t help like they used to,” Dale admitted. “I have to keep taking more and more.” Shit. Just what he’d been worried about. “Look, man. We need you here, a hundred percent, every time. If you’re not recovered, do something about it. Get more PT. Tony’ll help you. We need you. We need you to come out skating and hitting. Saturday, you looked like you didn’t even want to be here. We

can’t win games like that.” “I know, I know.” Dale rubbed his face. “I’m concerned about you,” Marc said quietly. “You don’t have the energy you used to. You don’t seem very happy.” If he was being honest, Dale seemed depressed. “I’m fine.” Marc nodded, studying his teammate. “There’s help if you need it. Just saying.” “Yeah. I’m good. Look, I gotta go.” “Yeah.” Marc stood. “Me too. Got a lunch date with Evert. See you tomorrow.”

He watched Dale leave. His gut was telling him there was more going on with him than he’d admitted. That brief comment about needing to take more and more painkillers scared Marc. He’d seen this happen before, guys who’d been injured came back and started popping pills so they could play, ended up addicted to narcotics. They were trying to save their career and ended up trashing their whole life. Yeah, he was worried about Dale’s impact on the team, but he was also worried about Dale. Well, he’d put a bug in the guy’s ear and hopefully Dale would give

some thought to what he’d said. — Lovey spent the morning online, working on her blog and finishing the industry research she’d started while eating breakfast. She was getting annoyed with Marc’s little jabs about Facebook and she’d seen his skeptical expression when she’d said she was reading “WWD.” Truthfully, she had been on Facebook, messaging with Jillian about how her skating date had gone, but that was only a few minutes. But she didn’t want to reveal too many details of what she

was doing until she was more successful. She had a meeting that afternoon with a potential client, a women’s clothing manufacturer and retailer. Not one of the biggest in the country, but well known in the Midwest. Their headquarters was here in Chicago and she had a meeting there this afternoon to talk about her social media plan for them. She wanted to be knowledgeable about what was happening in the women’s apparel industry. This acquisition by the Sutton Group, a major competitor of Panache Clothing, was big news

and she needed to know how it could affect her client. She had her presentation all ready to go. After she ate a light lunch—tuna and some raw veggies she’d purchased at the Italian market yesterday—she changed into a suit and did her makeup. She’d already been on Google Maps and figured out how to get to the Panache offices, which weren’t that far away. She hadn’t wanted to ask Duncan or Marc for help, because if this deal didn’t work out, she’d rather they not even know about it. Panache would be her biggest client yet and she really, really

wanted them. It would be a big kick-start to her fledgling business. She wore her black high-heeled boots today and a charcoal suit, a silky blouse in silvery gray and black beneath it. She carried her laptop in a case over her shoulder and her purse, and headed out for her meeting. Three hours later she was back home. She felt things had gone well but they hadn’t offered her the contract on the spot, and she wasn’t sure what to make of that. She walked into the condo to find Marc and Duncan sprawled on the couch watching TV.

She dropped her purse and laptop case. “What on earth are you watching?” “The Big Bang Theory.” They both laughed at the show. “Those guys are such nerds,” Duncan said. Lovey lifted an eyebrow. Well, she could honestly say Duncan had never been a nerd, and she was pretty sure the same could be said for Marc. “Why do you watch the show?” “Kaley Cuoco. She’s hot.” Lovey laughed and looked at Marc, who just shrugged. “I never saw this show before I moved in

with Army. And it’s better than Duck Dynasty. Christ, he’s obsessed with Duck Dynasty.” “Why’re you all dressed up?” Duncan asked, taking in her outfit and not denying the accusation. “Job interview?” “Uh, yeah.” “Where?” “Don’t want to say.” She perched on the arm of the couch. “I’ll tell you if I get the job.” She felt Marc’s gaze on her, much more than Duncan’s brief brotherly assessment of her suit. She met his eyes and held his gaze. He looked away, back at the TV.

“What’s up tonight?” she asked. “Nothing. We practiced today. Game skate tomorrow morning, game tomorrow night.” “No wild single dude parties tonight?” Duncan gave her a reproving look. “As if we could do that every night of the week.” “I’m going to change. Uh…want me to make dinner?” Their heads both snapped around. “Like what?” Duncan asked. “I don’t know.” She shrugged and stood. “I’ll check out what’s in the

cupboards. Should be able to come up with something.” “Sure. That’d be great.” She went to her room, took off her suit, and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie. She’d gotten an email back from her mom that afternoon that said her furniture should arrive Thursday. Soon she’d have a bed in her room. And a desk. Woohoo! That would be so great. She twisted her hair up into a messy bun and returned to the kitchen to inspect the contents of the cupboard and refrigerator. After a few minutes of contemplation,

she pulled out a piece of salmon from the freezer and started to thaw it in the microwave. The only fresh vegetables were the ones she’d bought, so she put together a broccoli and red pepper stir-fry. She found a box of couscous that came with a seasoning packet, and that rounded out the meal. She couldn’t find much to season the salmon with, so she mixed up some butter and maple syrup, spread it over the thawed filet, and slid it into the oven to bake. This would be decent. She hadn’t quite counted on the size of these two men’s appetites, though. She should’ve known, from

growing up with Duncan, but Richard hadn’t been a pro athlete. He worked out, but he sat at a desk all day, and a small piece of salmon, a few veggies, and a scoop of couscous would do it for him. And for her. Marc and Duncan devoured everything, and she was lucky she got a few bites. Oookay. Lesson learned. That salmon filet would have fed one of them. She could tell they were still hungry after the meal. “Sorry, guys. I forgot you’re calorie-burning machines.” “I’ll go get ice cream,” Marc

offered. “Where?” “There’s a little place a few blocks from here.” “Can I come?” His eyes met hers. Omigod. She never thought she had a dirty mind, but the way he looked at her instantly made her think of sex, and of the other meaning for what she’d just said. Heat flooded into her cheeks. “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “Wanna walk? Or drive?” “How far?” “About five or six blocks.”

“Ha. You’ll just work up more of an appetite if we walk. But sure, we can.” “I’ll come too,” Duncan said. She sighed. “Okay.” They walked to Sweet Licks and bought three pint containers of ice cream in different flavors, each of them picking one. When they got home, Marc and Duncan each ate a whole container. Lovey had a small scoop of cherry cheesecake ice cream. They watched The Voice and when she sighed over Adam Levine, both guys got grouchy. “He’s fucking skinny,” Marc growled.

She laughed. “Compared to you, yeah, he’s lean. But he has muscles.” “He’s short.” “Whatever.” She waved a hand. “That has nothing to do with sexiness.” “Is it the music? Is that what makes him sexy?” She frowned. “Um. Well, yeah. But it’s not just music. Any guy who’s good at what he does is sexy.” Both guys grunted at the television. Then Marc asked, “Is it the tattoos?” She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Do

you have tattoos?” He narrowed his eyes at her and slumped lower into the couch. “Maybe,” he mumbled. He was so fucking cute. She wanted to see his tattoos. But she knew better than to say that in front of Duncan. Her brother was cramping her style. She had to smile at the thought. Here she was camping out in his condo and she was bitter because he was there, interfering with her sex life. She shook her head. “What’s so funny?” Marc asked.

“Nothing.” She met his eyes. She was pretty sure he got her message. Want to find out what’s so funny? Want to show me your tattoos? Let’s meet up in your room later. He scowled. She sighed. “So you have a game tomorrow night,” she said. “On Halloween. Then when’s your next one?” “We’re away for a few days,” Duncan answered. “We leave Wednesday morning and we’re back Sunday. We play Wednesday night in Los Angeles, Friday in Anaheim, Saturday night in San Jose. Next home game is on the Tuesday after

that.” Oh. “Awesome,” she said slowly. She was both disappointed and happy they were going on a road trip. Relieved that she wouldn’t need to worry about being in their way and that she wouldn’t have big brother and his friend breathing down her neck and pressuring her to get a job and find her own place, but disappointed because Marc wouldn’t be around to make things exciting. Yes, Marc made things exciting. There was no denying the little zing in the air she felt when he was around, no matter how much she

tried to ignore him. Everything felt more vibrant, more electric when he was there. She felt…excited. Yeah, yeah, attracted. She’d already admitted to that. And that was the reason for the disappointment that they’d be gone for four days. Ah well. She had a new life to start.

Chapter 10 “Thanks for making dinner last night.” She looked up in surprise at Marc the next morning. “You’re welcome. Sorry there wasn’t more food. I’ll make you guys a big dinner when you get back from your road trip.” “I feel I should say you don’t have to do that, but I’m not gonna. Because that would be awesome.” She grinned at his admission. “What’s your favorite food?” “Steak.”

“No hesitation there.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not great at cooking steak. But I could make a roast beef.” “Close enough.” She started planning Sunday dinner, even though it was only Tuesday. Ah well. Marc and Duncan were off for their game day skate. She wasn’t going to the game tonight but planned to watch it on TV. She had work to do before then, though. She’d been contacted by another potential client. Somehow word was getting out about her and her new business. This was good. Some of it

was coming from her blog, Sugar Blossom, which was increasing in popularity and for which she’d started accepting paid advertisements. This was another small but growing source of income for her. It meant business to attend to, though—emails to reply to, invoices to send, also the research that went into putting together her posts. Her blog’s tagline was “Make life beautiful” and she posted about a variety of things—fashion, food, décor. She was no Martha Stewart, but her blog had been getting lots of attention. She’d developed a

following, some of whom had turned into online friends. Some companies she mentioned on her blog, like cosmetic companies when she talked about a favorite new lipstick, or clothing or shoe manufacturers when she photographed a pair of shoes or a jacket she loved, had contacted her not only about advertising but about social media services. A mention of their product on a popular blog was great word-ofmouth advertising. This was another reason for moving to Chicago. She could go out and find women who had great

style and, if they agreed, use their pictures, or if not, just make note of how they dressed or did their makeup. She used her own photographs as much as she could and that took more time. Richard had considered all the work she did on her blog a big waste, until she’d started to make a little money from it. She knew she’d never be able to earn a living at it while she had a full-time job, but now that she had time to devote to it she could hopefully make it bigger and better, and at the same time grow her social media business too. Her family would probably still

think she was flitting around playing on the Internet, and in a way she was. So with the guys gone for the next four days, she’d have time to get a lot of work done without them thinking she was hanging out on Facebook or Pinterest instead of job-hunting. She started looking for an apartment too. But holy crap. It was hard to find anything under a thousand bucks a month, and those were tiny little studio apartments. Maybe she hadn’t quite thought through this part of her plan. She sighed. She did not want Duncan saying “Told you so.”

But then, why did she need anything more than a studio apartment? It was just her. Her little apartment in Madison hadn’t been that big. She couldn’t get spoiled by living in this luxurious high-rise condominium. Maybe that little studio apartment on Sheridan Road would be okay…there was one floor plan that looked pretty good. The first had the bathroom right off the dining room. Eew. But this other one had a kitchen/breakfast room at one end, a big living room, and the bathroom and a large closet at the other end. Taking a deep breath, she filled

out the online request to check availability and sent it off. She could look at it this week if something was available. Her bank account was going to take a hard hit, and she’d have to hope like hell that work kept coming in. At least she had a few contracts that she could count on. Duncan and Marc both came home for a nap per their usual game day routine, then left again for the game. “No job interviews today?” Duncan asked on his way out. “Not today,” she said cheerfully. She wished she’d hear back from

Panache with their decision. Whenever she thought of it, her stomach twisted into knots. She wasn’t used to keeping stuff like that inside her, but she certainly wasn’t going to share it with Duncan. Or Marc. Well, maybe Marc. Somehow he seemed like someone easy to talk to, despite being so serious. It was obvious his teammates all liked and respected him. Maybe he wouldn’t be as judgy as Duncan. But that was all moot, because Marc wasn’t around; he was off to the game also and they were leaving early in the morning for Los

Angeles. The Aces managed to pull off a win that night, although honestly they didn’t play great. They made a lot of mistakes and allowed the Penguins to score three times in the first period before Brent was yanked and replaced with their backup goalie, Oleg Boyarov. Lovey winced as Brent slammed his stick into the boards as he skated off. It wasn’t as if he’d had a chance on any of the goals. Their defense had been shoddy. But the game ended up a fourthree win for the Aces, so that was good. Lovey clicked off the

television and went to have a bath before she went to bed. A soak in the tub would be nice. An hour later, with a towel wrapped around her, she left the bathroom and came face-to-face with Marc. She stopped short. “Oh. Hi. You got home quickly. Did you do your thing with the kids?” He shrugged, although his gaze wandered over her before snapping back up to her face. She clutched the towel tighter over her breasts. “Yeah, I did. Kept it pretty short, since we have an early flight tomorrow.”

“It’s so nice that you do that.” He shrugged and looked away. Aw. “Nice win.” “Thanks. Not sure we deserved it, but we’ll take it.” She loved how he didn’t make a big deal about the time and money he spent making those kids happy, and how it was always “we” and “us” when he talked about the team, never about how he’d played or the goals he’d scored. “I just had a bath,” she explained, probably unnecessarily. “Uh. Yeah.”

Her nipples tingled beneath the damp towel as he again swept her with his gaze. His eyes lingered on her bare toes and calves and when he looked back at her face, his eyes were hot and heavy-lidded. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth and her breath caught in her throat. God. She wanted so badly to kiss him. But last time she’d tried that it hadn’t ended well. So she gathered up all her resolve and headed into her bedroom. She dressed in her cami and shorts, and went out to make her bed on the couch and sleep there alone.

— On Thursday her furniture arrived from Madison. Not all of it, but her bedroom furniture anyway, her double bed and dresser and nightstand. Mom had also included a lamp and the box of pillows and bedding she’d packed up for storage. The guys who delivered it kindly moved it all into the bedroom and set things up for her, which was good, since Duncan and Marc were away. She decided to wash the sheets she wanted to use, so she started that and then called Mom to tell her that the things had arrived and to thank her for helping

out with that. “So what have you been doing there?” Mom asked. “Have you been looking for a new job?” Man, these people were obsessed with her getting a job. “Yes. I have a few good leads. I went out with my friend Jillian from college; Marc got us tickets to the game last weekend.” “How is Marc?” Lovey made a face. “Good, I guess. They’re away on a road trip right now. Why d’you ask?” “He was pretty devastated after his girlfriend broke up with him. I hope he’s getting over that.”

Lovey frowned. “Girlfriend?” “Yes. They lived together for quite a while.” Her forehead tightened even more. How did she not know this and her mom did? “I didn’t realize that. When did that happen?” “Oh, I’m not sure…what, about six months ago? That’s when he moved in with Duncan, after Marissa kicked him out.” “She kicked him out?” Lovey gaped at the window she was looking at. “Why?” “I don’t know the details, honey. He didn’t talk about it much. Your dad and I were visiting Duncan

when it happened. It was just before the first round of playoffs. Not a good way for him to start them.” “I guess not. Well, I think he’s okay.” “Is he seeing someone new?” “Uh…not that I know of.” Jesus, Mom was getting her worked up. What if Marc did have a girlfriend? He hadn’t mentioned anyone in the week she’d been there. She certainly hadn’t met anyone. He didn’t seem like a guy who was in a relationship. He’d definitely seemed interested in her. He’d kissed her. A guy with a girlfriend wouldn’t do

that. Unless he was a douchebag. Not only was the possibility that he could have a new girlfriend bugging her, but the fact that he’d lived with a girl, who’d kicked him out, made her feel all ragey. He’d lived with her. That was pretty serious. And she’d dumped him? What the fuck? Was she crazy? “That’s too bad. What about Duncan? Is he seeing anyone?” “Nope, him neither.” Mom sighed. Duncan had never had much time for girls, and had never really had a girlfriend. “I guess they’re both young yet.” “Mom, are you getting anxious

for grandchildren or something?” Lovey grinned. “Well, that would be nice someday. I thought you and Richard were going to give me grandchildren.” “Yeah, so did he,” she said dryly. “I’m not ready for that, Mom.” “Was that what happened with him?” “Yeah.” She paused. “Sorry, Mom.” “Don’t apologize! If he was the right man, you would’ve been ready. I was just worried that he’d broken up with you and you were devastated.”

“I’m fine.” “I’m glad to hear that. You’re not being a pain in your brother’s butt, are you?” Lovey bit her lip. “Yeah, I probably am.” “Lovey.” “I know, I know. I’m trying not to get in his way. Much. I’m going to look at an apartment tomorrow.” “Okay.” Mom’s doubtful tone made her sigh. “It’ll be fine, Mom. I’m excited about living here. I’m going to make new friends and it’ll be great.” “You always are so optimistic

about things.” “You think I shouldn’t be?” “No! That’s not what I meant. It’s good that you’re optimistic. You don’t let things get you down for long. You’re always upbeat and positive. It’s why people like to be around you.” “Aw. Thanks, Mom.” Her words of praise surprised Lovey for some reason. She didn’t think people liked to be around her particularly, although she’d always had lots of friends, and she supposed she’d been considered popular in school. She just liked to have fun, and she liked to do it with other people.

They chatted a bit more before ending the call. Lovey moved the laundry from washer to dryer in the small laundry room, then got ready to go out. The managers of the apartment she’d checked out online had emailed her back that they had one studio available for the first of January. That was still a long time away, but when she’d checked others, she mostly came across the same thing. She’d found one apartment for immediate sublet, but it was far away from Duncan and she preferred to be at least somewhat close to the only family she had in the city, not to mention

close to business and shopping and nightlife. So she had an appointment to look at the studio apartment that afternoon. — It turned out to be decent. It was an older building that had recently been remodeled, so it had a bit of character, with big baseboards and door casings, hardwood floors, and cove ceilings. A big window in the living room looked onto a tree-lined street from the third floor. The kitchen was tiny but also remodeled with nice white cabinets and black countertops, and new appliances,

and there was space for her small dining table. The guy who showed it to her told her she should put down a deposit to hold it because apartments in this price range went really fast. She didn’t like the pressure—but on the other hand, her gut told her he was probably right, so she wrote a check and took the leasing agreement to fill it out. Yipes. Once again, she wished she had someone to talk to about all this. She ended up messaging Jillian that she’d found an apartment and Jillian suggested they get together tomorrow night. She’d get her other

girlfriends to come. So that was good. She had Friday night plans. Another thing she did while Marc and Duncan were gone was sign up for a cooking class. She needed to meet new people, and cooking was something she liked but could learn more about. So next week she would be learning how to make fresh spring rolls. And she also watched hockey games while they were gone. The novelty of having a big brother playing in the NHL had worn off years ago, so she no longer watched all his games, though she did cheer for the Aces, and when it was

playoff time, she was really into it. But this time, she found herself watching…Marc. Friday night she met Jillian at a little restaurant about halfway between their homes. She was so excited to go out in the big city with some girls and was looking forward to meeting Jillian’s friends. Lovey was realizing that her business plan might not be giving her the interaction with live people she seemed to need. Sure, she had online friends and acquaintances, and she was keeping in touch with her friends in Madison, but with Duncan and Marc gone and the

condo empty and quiet, she was going out of her mind. She loved what she was doing and she wanted to succeed, but she’d need to find ways to interact with people. It would come. She’d go to cooking classes and maybe some other kinds of activities—yoga or kickboxing. Join a gym. Marc could probably give her advice about a gym. She’d tell him she wanted to meet guys who were very fit. Thinking of his reaction to this made her smile. Jillian and her friends Leigh and Dior were in the restaurant waiting for her, with drinks already in front

of them. Jillian made introductions and they all said hello. Lovey took off her coat and scarf and ordered a lemon daiquiri. “I’ve been so excited about this all day!” she told them. “I’ve been alone this week since my brother and his roommate are on a road trip. They play for the Aces,” she explained to Leigh and Dior. “I’ve been busy, but I need to be with people!” They all grinned. “Well, here you go,” Dior said. “Lots of people.” “This is a nice place.” She looked around the bar, taking in the old brick of one wall, exposed rafters

and ductwork above, an inside wall featuring a floor-to-ceiling display of wines in a clear glass cooler. “One of our favorite Friday night places,” Leigh shared. “Great drinks and food, and usually lots of hot guys.” “Awesome! And speaking of hot guys…what’s happening with Hakim?” She looked at Jillian. “Eh. He’s nice enough. We had fun skating. He’s no hockey player, though.” Lovey grinned. “Didn’t know you had a thing for hockey players.” “I don’t.” Jillian smiled back. “But after seeing your brother and his

teammates that night, it was kind of a letdown skating with someone a little less…proficient.” “Hockey players are hot,” Leigh said. “If you want to be friends with us, you’ll have to introduce us to your brother.” She said it in a way that was utterly charming and Lovey laughed again. “I can do that. I was talking to my mom yesterday and she was all disappointed that he’s not seeing anyone. I told her I’d work on it. Of course, I don’t know why anyone would be interested in him, he’s such a redneck goof.” She rolled her eyes.

“He’s your brother,” Jillian said. “Of course you wouldn’t see him as attractive. But I can tell you, he definitely is.” Lovey gave her a look, raised eyebrows, chin down. “What? Seriously?” “He’s good-looking and seriously built. Nice guy. I liked him, not sure if there was any spark there.” “I’d like to find out if there’s any spark,” Dior said. “Okay, girls, I will definitely introduce you, but I have to say this —if you’re interested in my brother or any of his friends just because of their money, I will stab you with a

sharp object. Okay?” “Okay,” they all agreed without taking any offense. “I like you.” Lovey smiled at them. “We can be friends.” Everyone laughed. Lovey’s drink arrived. “Dior, you have a beautiful name,” she said. “Are you named after Christian Dior?” “Yeah, my mom loves fashion.” “Apparently you do too.” Lovey nodded at her outfit. “Gorgeous. Hey! Would you let me take a picture of you and put it on my blog?” They all looked at her with wide

eyes. She explained about her blog and how she was going to be looking for more style inspiration in Chicago. “Um…I don’t know,” Dior said. “I guess it would be okay.” “I’d need you to sign a release,” Lovey said. “Just to make it legal. You’re beautiful. I’d love to show off your style.” “How can I say no to that?” she joked. “I love clothes. Too much.” She grimaced. “My credit card company loves me for that, but I need to be careful.” “I hear you,” Lovey agreed. “My weakness isn’t just clothes. I love

all pretty things. Sensual things— even candles that smell nice. But thrift shops and junk stores are a great source for pretty things. Repurposed. Half my furniture in my apartment is ancient stuff that I’ve refinished or repainted. I don’t have much money either, so I kind of had to find a way to have nice things that didn’t cost a fortune.” “I love thrift stores!” Leigh said. “I’ll show you my favorites. There are also some consignment shops here that have amazing designer stuff.” “Oh, that would be great!” The evening was so much fun.

They ate bruschetta and pastas and drank more daiquiris, and some guys approached them after dinner and offered to buy them drinks, so they let them and flirted a little, and then Lovey took a taxi home all mellow and happy. Living in Chicago was going to be great.

Chapter 11 The team was supposed to leave San Jose right after the game on Saturday night, arriving back in Chicago on their charter flight around three o’clock Sunday morning, but the flight got delayed because of weather in Chicago. They were all exhausted, and sitting in the airport for hours didn’t help their mood after the loss. “We’ve got a ten a.m. practice tomorrow,” Hughie said to Marc. “Dude, you gotta get us out of that.”

So Marc as the captain had a word with the coaching staff. The flight ended up only leaving an hour late, but still, they’d agreed by the time everyone got home they’d get minimal sleep, and they made it an optional skate in the afternoon. Marc shared the news with the others, who were all appreciative. “Thanks, man,” he heard more than once, and more than one guy yawned as he said it. Marc managed to sleep on the flight. He’d gotten pretty good at shutting things out and crashing, but still he wanted more sleep in his own bed.

Team staff had their vehicles waiting for them on the tarmac, and he jumped into Duncan’s new SUV with him for the drive to their condo. Team staff would look after their gear and get it to the arena for them. Neither of them talked much as Duncan navigated dark freeways and streets through light traffic. Once inside the condo, Marc couldn’t help but glance at the couch in the living room. No Lovey. Duncan noticed too. “Huh,” he said. “Where is she?” The door to the room she’d been using was closed. Marc started toward it to see if she was in there,

but Duncan elbowed him out of the way. “I’ll look.” Quietly he eased the door open and stuck his head inside. Then he withdrew and shut the door. “Son of a bitch. She’s got all her furniture in there.” “Is she in there?” “Yep. Sound asleep in her bed.” Imagining Lovey in bed was not where his mind should go. “Great,” Marc mumbled. “See you later.” He headed straight to his room. He’d already ditched the tie but couldn’t wait to get the suit and shirt off and climb into bed. His big, empty bed. Well, it was good that Lovey

wasn’t sleeping on the couch anymore. No more accidental encounters with her in skimpy little clothes. They did, however, still have to share a bathroom. Which he needed to use then. Once again he shook his head at the feminine scent of the room. Now not only was her girlie crap spread out everywhere, new towels had appeared—soft, thick yellow towels, one of them with flowers embroidered along one edge. Sleep. He just wanted to sleep for about a year. His body hurt from numerous hard hits into the boards. He’d taken a puck off his skate and

his foot still throbbed, although they’d checked him out and nothing was broken. He’d finished the game on sheer will alone. They’d set the tone for the game from the opening face-off, with a lot of hard hits and grinding, physical play. This worked for them. They’d had the Sharks on their heels most of the game, but it had been a one-goal game until near the end of the third, when a fluky play had the puck going into their own net off Olaf’s skate. Another loss, but this time it irked even more because they really felt they’d played well enough to win. Fuck.

He slept in, later than usual anyway, and found himself strangely eager to get dressed and leave his bedroom. He didn’t have to think too hard about why that was. He was eager to see Lovey. Fuck, being away from her had been weird. She’d been staying with them for just over a week but had made her presence so known in the condo, her brightness and laughter and girl crap in the bathroom and in the fridge, he found himself wanting to get back to that. It was a bizarre, edgy feeling. He stopped short at the sight of her in the dining room stretched

out on a yoga mat. She wore snug black pants that ended just below her knees and an equally tight lime green tank top. She was on her hands and knees, walking her hands out in front of her, ass in the air, little bare toes curled into her soles. Then she dropped her head to the mat and remained like that. He couldn’t take his eyes off her sweet little ass, rounded cheeks pushed up toward him. Blood flowed to his groin in a hot rush. The pose made him want to move up behind her and—Crisse. He cleared his throat and moved into the kitchen. She turned her

head, arms still stretched out in front of her. “Oh hey,” she said with a smile. “You’re home.” “Yeah.” She slowly, gracefully, pulled herself up and sat, ass to her heels now. “I missed you.” His head snapped around to gape at her. “Uh…” Why did she say things like that? Fuck! “Seriously.” She lifted her arms above her head in a stretch. “It was so quiet here I could’ve gone crazy. I need people to talk to.” “Oh.” Why did he turn into such a

speechless idiot around her? “But I kept busy.” She stood now but bent over to roll up her mat, again giving him a hard-oninducing view of her ass. She propped the mat in the corner, behind the weight bench, then approached him. “That’s good.” He started to find food, pulling a dozen eggs out of the fridge. Wow, there was a lot of food in it. Usually there was mostly beer. She slid that sweet ass onto a stool at the island. “How was the trip? I watched every game.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” She gave him a look with

a little notch between her eyebrows. “You okay after last night? That shot you took in the foot looked painful.” “I’m okay. It hurt like a motherfucker, but I walked it off.” “And finished the game.” She shook her head. “You guys are so tough.” “It’s our job. Uh…want some eggs?” “Yeah. I would. Let me help. I like mine scrambled.” “I can do scrambled.” He opened the fridge again and frowned. “Why are there fifteen

fucking bags of spinach in here?” “I use it to make smoothies,” she said serenely. “And there’s not fifteen.” “Oh.” Together they cracked eggs and toasted bread. Lovey got out the big non-stick fry pan. As they worked she chatted about what she’d been up to while the team was away. And Marc found himself listening with curious interest. “You actually leased an apartment?” he said, frowning. “Yeah. January first. That’s still a ways away. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” “I have the impression you don’t want me here.” Her honesty made him cringe. “It’s not that I don’t want you here…I just…” “Don’t want me,” she finished. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “That’s not it either,” he said quietly. “You’re Duncan’s sister.” “I’m tired of hearing that. Being his sister doesn’t make me a nun, for cheese sake.” He choked on a laugh. Christ. “What do you want on your toast?” “I don’t want toast, thanks.”

“Why not?” She gave him a lopsided smile. “I avoid carbs.” He blinked. “Why?” “They make me put on weight.” He couldn’t stop himself from giving her an up and down look. “You don’t need to worry about that.” “Not if I avoid carbs,” she agreed. “Don’t worry, I don’t always. I just try to stick to lean protein and fruits and vegetables as much as I can. Then once in a while I can have pizza or a hamburger and it’s fine.” “That sounds…reasonable,” he

admitted. “I can’t eat a gazillion calories, like you and Duncan. Are there any hockey players who put on too much weight?” “Yeah, sure. Dale Ronson comes to training camp every year overweight and has to take some off.” “Huh. He’s a huge guy, though.” “True, but carrying around too much weight isn’t good.” They sat to eat breakfast. “Any luck finding a job?” he asked as he forked up eggs. “Um. No. Not yet. But I’m feeling

good about a few things.” She looked down at her plate. Why did he have this gut feeling she wasn’t really looking? But why wouldn’t she? She clearly didn’t intend to freeload off her brother for the rest of her life, since she’d rented an apartment. What was going on with her? It wasn’t his business, despite the curiosity burning a hole inside him. She changed the subject. “You guys gonna practice today?” He let her have that. “No. They made it an optional skate this afternoon. Our flight was a little delayed last night and we didn’t get

home until four-thirty.” “Oh my God. Yeah, that would have make things tough for a morning practice. So if it’s optional, you don’t have to go.” “I’ll go.” He grimaced. “I might not skate. Gonna get a few things checked out. Might be a good idea to rest today.” He circled his left shoulder gingerly. Then he met her concerned eyes. “You’re sure you’re okay?” “Yeah, I think so.” She bit her lip and the worry on her face made him strangely pleased. But also sorry. It also made him want to kiss her.

She was so open and out there about everything, it made him both admiring and uncomfortable. He tried to keep his emotions under wraps. Yeah, he was passionate about his game but it was important to stay in control at all times. So her freely admitting she’d missed him (and Duncan), openly showing her concern for him, honest about the fact that she was attracted to him and apparently wanted to do him, made him a little nuts. “Why did your girlfriend break up with you?” she asked. Wow, that was a head-spinning change of subject. “Christ. Why are

you bringing her up?” “I’m just curious. I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend until I talked to my mom the other day. She says to say hi, by the way. She was worried about you when you broke up with…” “Marissa. She broke up with me.” “Yeah. Mom said that. So what happened?” “I’m not ‘romantic’ enough.” He slid off the stool. “You done eating?” She tipped her head to one side. “Really? She broke up with you because of that?”

“So she said. Gimme your plate?” Lovey snorted. “That’s bullshit.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Girls want romance. Right?” “Weeell…I don’t know if you can generalize like that. How can you say all girls want one thing? It can’t be true. And what does that even mean? Not ‘romantic’ enough…did she want roses every week? Foot rubs every night?” Marc laughed. “She wanted fireworks.” Lovey bit her bottom lip. “Well, that I get. But you know, sex gets less about the fireworks when you’ve been together awhile.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Not sexual fireworks. Literally, fireworks. And horse-drawn carriage rides. That kind of shit.” “Oh.” Lovey gave a small smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to insult your sexual prowess.” “She never complained about the sex,” Marc admitted dryly. “But seriously…horse-drawn carriage rides? That’s kind of superficial. I mean, being romantic isn’t about flowers and gestures like that. It’s about…being thoughtful. Small gestures, yeah, but they have to be personal. It’s just being there for each other. Spending time

together.” She gave him a sideways look. “Huh.” He shrugged off the vaguely uncomfortable feeling her words aroused. Because deep down inside, he had a feeling he hadn’t been there for Marissa. He’d been there…but not wholly. Shit. Lovey didn’t even know him or Marissa, and had somehow put her finger on what the problem really was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t romantic enough. It was that he hadn’t cared enough to be romantic. No wonder Marissa had dumped him. “Gotta get ready to go,” he

mumbled, and booked it down the hall to his room. Marc went to the rink, but Duncan didn’t. When Marc got there, the trainers all agreed he should have a rest day, so he hung out for a while as some of the guys did the light skate. Marc noted that Ronson hadn’t come. He didn’t have to, but it still bugged Marc. Something big was up with him. When he got home, the incredible smell of roast beef filled the condo. “Holy shit, that smells good,” he said as he entered the kitchen. Lovey stood there peeling potatoes, wearing an apron with a

picture of a puck on the front and the words “Puck you!” She beamed at him, and once again, the shiny warmth in that smile made all his problems fade into the background —worries about why the team kept losing, could they turn things around, was he doing something wrong, and what was up with Ronson. “Hi! It’s the roast beef I promised you.” His stomach rumbled in anticipation. “Are those going to be mashed potatoes?” he asked hopefully. “With gravy?” “Of course!” “It smells garlicky.”

“Yes. This is my garlic and red wine roast beef and gravy recipe. It’s pretty popular.” “Are you a chef?” She blinked at him, then gave him a glowing smile. “No, but I like to cook. Did I tell you I signed up for a cooking lesson next week?” “No. No, you didn’t.” “Remember I said I need people to talk to? I have to get out more and meet new friends. And I like cooking and learning more about it, so I found this cooking school and signed up. Next week I’m making fresh spring rolls.” She was unbelievable. Talk about

embracing life. “That sounds good.” “There’s another course coming up that I’d like to do. It’s how to match beer with food.” “Huh?” “Yeah. Like wines, but beer. Doesn’t that sound cool?” “It actually does.” “Maybe you can come with me. It’d be fun.” Marc glanced at Duncan, sprawled out on the couch watching something. “Maybe.” “It wouldn’t be like a date,” she said, catching his look. “Just us doing something together.”

Riiiiight. “Need any help?” “How are you at peeling potatoes?” “Not good, but I can give it a shot.” “Okay, have at it.” She handed him the paring knife and stepped aside. “I need to do the carrots and beans.” Once again, they were in the kitchen cooking together. And it was kinda nice. The meal was fucking fantastic. He and Duncan consumed nearly the whole roast—it wasn’t that big— and all the mashed potatoes, smothered with unbelievably

delicious gravy. The vegetables were fresh and crisp and she even had dessert—an apple pie, for fuck’s sake, that she’d made herself, but not just ordinary apple pie, an apple pie with caramel sauce poured over the crust, baked to a golden crisp. “Your sister’s moving out at the beginning of January,” Marc stated at the end of the meal. “I think that might be a mistake.” “I am having second thoughts now,” Duncan admitted, patting his flat abs. Lovey grinned. “You can come to my place for dinner. Although…” Her smile went crooked. “My tiny

kitchen isn’t going to be up for big fancy meals. But still.” She squared her shoulders. “It’ll be fine.” “Where is this place?” Duncan asked. “I wish you’d waited until I was here to see it before you signed a lease. And let me see the lease, by the way. Wanna make sure you didn’t sign something you shouldn’t have.” “I’m not stupid.” “I know, I know, but…well, I guess it’s too late now.” “It’s a nice place. Very small, but it’s the most I can afford. Nice neighborhood and not too far away.”

She filled them in on more details of what she’d done while they were away, including her night out with Jillian and her friends and the fact that the girls wanted to meet some of the team. “So sometime we’ll all have to go out together. Hey, do you guys know a gym I could join?” “We pretty much work out at the arena,” Marc said. “But I’m sure there’s somewhere nearby.” “I don’t want some girly place. I want to watch ripped guys lift weights.” Marc choked and Duncan laughed. “I’m kidding,” she said. “I also

need to find a yoga studio.” “Looked like you were doing okay here,” Marc pointed out. “Yeah, I can do it on my own. But I need to meet people, remember?” “Nobody’d ever mistake you for an introvert,” Duncan muttered. This was true. “We’ll do the dishes,” Marc said, after they finished off the bottle of Merlot. “You cooked, you don’t have to clean up.” She gave him a long look, a flutter of her eyelashes that made his heart trip, then said demurely, “Thank you.”

What was that look for? “Speak for yourself, man,” Duncan said. “I’m going out.” “What? Where are you going?” “Got a date,” Duncan muttered. “Oh, Duncan! A date! With a girl?” Lovey blinked at him. “Shut the fuck up.” She grinned. “You have time to help,” Marc said. “Get off your ass.” “Fine.” “Thanks, guys. I appreciate you cleaning up. I think I’ll go have a bubble bath,” Lovey announced. Marc closed his eyes and repressed

a groan at images of her naked body submerged in frothy bubbles… Jesus. He started banging dirty pots into the sink.

Chapter 12 Lovey piled her hair up on her head with a clip and slid into the hot water. It closed around her in a warm, comforting embrace, steam scented with her favorite bath salts rising around her. Ah. Bliss. With her tablet safely in a Ziploc bag, she read for a while, letting the hot water coax tension out of her muscles. Well, she tried to read. Her thoughts kept drifting away to Marc and the conversation they’d shared today.

Marissa. That was her name. Bitch. She wanted a fucking horsedrawn carriage ride? Not that that wasn’t nice. An over-the-top romantic gesture was lovely once in a while, but seriously? Breaking up with a guy because of that? Clearly there was more to it than that. She’d caught the thoughtful look on Marc’s face. Had he been beating himself up about not being romantic enough? True, he was pretty practical and serious. But that didn’t mean he had no romance in him. Oh, how the hell would she know that? Why was she defending him

in her mind? She shook her head and tried to focus on the romance novel she was trying to read. A romantic gesture could just as easily be offering to clean up and do the dishes after she’d cooked a big meal. She sighed, distracted yet again. Except there were no romantic feelings between them, so his gesture had just been thoughtful. Not romantic. Gah. She gave up on the book and washed with a sugar scrub to exfoliate, used a pumice stone on her feet, and shaved her legs.

Finally she climbed out of the tub, dried off, and massaged body lotion into her skin in the same scent as the bath salts, her usual Cupcake line of body products, now one of her advertisers on her blog. She took a moment to massage moisturizer onto her face, then wrapped a towel around herself and headed back to her bedroom to change for bed. She had barely opened the top drawer of her dresser to pull out her pajamas when she heard Marc yell. “Tabarnak de câlisse!” Whoa, that didn’t sound good. She dropped the towel while she

dug through her drawer, then straightened and stared at the door. Was he okay? She grabbed the towel and tried to get it over her naked body before she yanked the door open. Marc stood there, mouth agape. “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “Are you okay?” “I’m okay! Are you okay? What the fuck happened in there? It looks like a goddamn crime scene!” She blinked and padded after him to the bathroom, only now noticing the trail of bloody marks on the floor. The bath mat had more blood, with some on the tile floor as well.

“Oh, fuck me running,” Marc groaned. He covered his eyes with one hand. “Are you having…oh Jesus.” “No! I must have cut myself shaving!” she cried. She looked down at her legs. The towel slipped over her breasts as she twisted one knee forward, then the other, to look for the cut. There it was on the back of her right ankle, trailing bright red blood down to her heel. “See? It’s just a little nick.” “Christ,” he said, relief in his tone. “But still…Jesus, Lovey. That’s a lot of blood!” “It’s not that much. I’ll clean it

up. Sorry, sorry.” “It’s not the mess I’m worried about.” “I’m fine. I didn’t even feel it. I’ll just put a Band-Aid on it.” She rushed to open the medicine cabinet. She’d seen bandages in there. Yes. In her reflection in the mirror, she saw the towel gaping low over her breasts, one nipple showing. “Gah!” She dropped the box of bandages and grabbed the towel. The bandages all spilled out into the sink. She glanced at Marc. His face was flushed, his eyes glittering. She sighed. Yep, he’d seen it all.

“Let me do it.” He reached for the bandages. “You hold the towel. Sit on the toilet.” He picked up one paper-wrapped bandage, opened it, and peeled off the two pieces of plastic. She sat. She grabbed some toilet paper, balled it up, and handed it to him to run under water. He crouched before her and lifted her ankle. His hands looked so big and strong on her leg, which thankfully was smooth—albeit bloody. Oh yeah, that was attractive. What a loser she was. He set her foot on the denim of his bent knee. As his gaze shifted

upward, she became excruciatingly aware that with one foot propped on his knee, her thighs were now parted and the towel wasn’t covering much of them. She sucked briefly on her bottom lip as heat washed down through her, thinking about what he could see there. Probably not much…but he’d looked. Now the air around them buzzed with tension and her insides went hot and soft. He turned his attention back to her ankle. Gently, he swabbed the drying blood off her skin, then applied the bandage with tight

pressure. “There. That should stop it.” He still held her foot, the fingers of one hand applying pressure to the bandage, the fingers of his other hand rubbing over her instep, then the back of her calf. Up and down, in slow, mesmerizing strokes. Tingles spread all up her leg and converged in her pussy. Her heart fluttered. She swallowed, watching him touch her. He looked up at her and their eyes met. She wasn’t going to beg him, but she didn’t hide from him that she wanted him. “Where’s Duncan?” “He went out.” His voice was low

and rough. She nodded. Their eyes still held, both knowing what that meant. Heat built between them as they eyed each other. His hand still stroked her calf, cupping it in his palm. She’d been rejected once before so she hesitated to make the first move, but then she couldn’t help it, she was so drawn to him, overcome by hot lust, and she slid off the toilet and onto his lap. Only he might have pulled her off the toilet and onto his lap as he sat on the floor, because his arms wrapped around her right away and then they were kissing, their mouths

homing in on each other with desperate precision. So she wasn’t really sure who made the first move, but that didn’t matter because his mouth was on hers, hard and hot and greedy. She made a moany sound in her throat, slid her fingers into his short, thick hair, and kissed him back, hungry for the taste of him, her body desperate to feel his up against her. The towel forgotten, she let him squeeze her against his chest. His erection pressed against her hip. She liked that. He was hard because of her. She more than liked

that, she freakin’ loved that. He groaned too and his tongue slid between her lips and into her mouth. Holy God, she was melting. Heat pulsed between her legs, a tight pull of desire building there. Her breasts ached and she pressed them harder against his chest. His hands moved over her, exploring, sweeping up her back, then back down to a hip, her waist. She was vaguely aware the towel was bunched around her waist and she was essentially naked on his lap, and oh God, it felt good. He sucked briefly on her tongue, giving her a little burst of heat

down low inside, then licked her bottom lip and kissed her cheek and jaw. His stubble rasped against her skin and a thrill ran through her in hot squiggles. He nuzzled the side of her neck below her ear, opened his mouth on the skin there and sucked so gently, and the thrill escalated to a full-bodied shudder. He was such a good kisser. God. His mouth was perfect, firm yet gentle, hot and just wet enough, his tongue strong and sexy. Her head fell back, her fingers still playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, the skin there soft and smooth. With her eyes closed

and her mouth open, she let him explore her with his hands and lips and tongue. He bit gently on her shoulder, then dragged his tongue along her collarbone. She leaned back in his embrace now, exposing her bare breasts, dying for him to touch her there. “Fuck,” he muttered. “We’re gonna go there, aren’t we.” It wasn’t a question. “Mmm.” “The bathroom floor is not where I want to do this.” “It’s a big bathroom. The rug is soft. Although the blood all over is a bit of a turnoff.”

His chuckle turned into a groan. “Câlisse, Lovey. Tu me rends fou.” She didn’t know what that meant but it didn’t sound all bad. He sounded turned on. Hungry. And holy hell, he was speaking French and that…was…hot. “Merci,” she whispered. He choked on another laugh and his hands went to her waist. “Christ,” he muttered. “I can’t get up.” “Ha-ha. I think you’re already up.” He laughed again. “C’mon, hockey boy, you fall

down on the ice all the time.” She scrambled off him and set her hands on the toilet to push herself to stand. Then she reached a hand down to him, but he was already up, using the side of the bathtub to lever his big body off the floor. “I do not fall all the time,” he objected. His gaze had gone past her and she realized he was looking at her in the mirror—the back of her. His hand curved over her ass and gave a gentle squeeze, pulling her closer, and he groaned again. “You have the sweetest little ass.” Her skin tingled everywhere and her stomach swooped. “Thank you.

I like yours too, what I’ve seen of it. How about you undress so I can see more of it?” “Bedroom,” he growled. “Mine. Now.” Whoa. Her pussy squeezed hard. She hadn’t seen this alpha caveman side of him and it worked for her. Really worked for her. He didn’t let go of her, just turned her and held her hips as he nudged her out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He’d left the lamp beside the bed on, but the room was still dim and shadowy. She was not going to

confess that she’d come in here when he’d been gone on the road trip, sat on his bed, and studied the room. She hadn’t snooped in anything personal—she’d just been intensely curious about him. And she’d missed him. His bedroom smelled like him, like the zesty men’s body wash and shampoo in the shower, which she’d also sniffed more than once, combined with his intrinsic male scent. He showered a lot, which she appreciated because she’d ridden in a minivan with stinky hockey equipment many times and knew only too well how horrifically bad that odor could be.

But his scent was good, clean athletic male sweat and she loved it. In the room, she turned into his arms and their mouths locked together again, hands all over each other, grabbing and rubbing. She went up on her toes and strained against him and then he lifted her, his hands on her bare ass, and with a squeak she wrapped her legs around his waist and held his shoulders. He walked to the bed. In a smooth, graceful motion that impressed her with his strength, he set a knee on the mattress, then had her on the bed with him on top still between her legs. His weight was a

sweet pressure on her body and she adored it. One of his big hands tried to slide into her hair and encountered the big plastic clip, but he had it pried open and tugged out of her hair in seconds. He tossed it aside and his fingers cupped her head, holding her in place for more kisses. More hot, drugging, melting kisses. She needed skin, and her hands tugged at his T-shirt until she found it—hot, sleek skin. She pressed her palms against the muscles of his back as his tongue explored her mouth. Heat rushed through her body

“I just want to point out,” she gasped when his mouth had shifted to her throat, “I still can’t see your ass.” He smiled against her skin. “I can’t see yours either.” “But you did.” “Don’t worry. We’ll get to that. Fuck, Lovey. I wanna go slow, but damn, I’m in pain.” “I know. Me too. Never mind slow. We can do slow next time. Just do it.” “I’ve always believed in that motto.” He rolled off her, reached behind his head, and yanked his Tshirt off. There were the chest and

abs she’d fantasized about since the day she’d arrived here and he’d walked out in his boxers. Her hands reached out of their own volition to touch, skimming over a taut pec and trailing down over ridged abs. He unzipped his jeans and lifted his hips to shove them and his boxers down over his thighs. When he kicked them off, powerful muscles bunched and flexed. Again she couldn’t resist touching, stroking her palm over a hairy thigh as he shoved off socks too. Her eyes moved all over, taking him in, pausing at his heavy erection. He was a big man, so it

shouldn’t have surprised her, but she did blink a couple of times at the thick girth and impressive length. He rolled away from her, finally giving her a view of his ass, just long enough for him to reach into the drawer beside his bed and grab something. On his back again, knees bent, he opened the small package and applied a condom. Good. That was good. She appreciated that very much. Especially since she got to watch his big hands holding his cock. Oh my fuck, that was sexy. He reached for her and picked her up with such ease it made her heart

flutter, holding her against him with one arm while his other hand yanked the bed covers down, then lowering her to the exposed sheets. He used one of his bare feet to push the covers aside even more so he could join her there. He kissed her again, laying half on her, one big knee between her legs, his hand on her jaw. She circled her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Empty and aching, she needed more, needed him inside her. He’d said he was in pain and she was ready for him to just fuck her, but apparently he was still able to last a little longer, as he

took his time feasting on her mouth, then shifting lower to her breasts. Oh yes, oh God. He cupped her breasts and they swelled into his palms. “Beautiful,” he whispered, studying them with a heated gaze that made her even hotter. He brushed his thumbs over her tight nipples, a sweet torment, then lowered his head to close his lips around one. He gave a gentle tug and sucked her deeper into his mouth. Her hips lifted with need as sparks shimmered from her nipple to her pussy.

“Oooooh.” She let out a soft sigh. “So good.” He sucked both nipples until she was about to explode, her body quivering on the edge, her clit pulsing and begging to be touched. “Please,” she implored. “Please. Need you.” “Mmm.” He kissed a nipple one last time. As he’d played there, he’d moved between her legs, his body heavy against hers. Her pelvis rocked into him in a helpless demand for what she needed. “Yeah. Need you too.” He pushed up onto his knees, spread wide, pushing her thighs apart, and

reached for his cock. Her tongue came out to swipe over her bottom lip as she watched him center himself against her. But before he entered her, his fingers stroked through her pussy, immediately slick with her arousal. “There,” he murmured. “Okay, we’re good to go.” “I don’t think there was any doubt,” she panted. “I was good to go about fifteen minutes ago.” His lips twitched. “Just making sure. Don’t wanna hurt you, Lovey.” That was sweet. So damn sweet. Her heart tilted a little but she ignored it to focus on the building

ache inside her. “Please. Fuck me.” “Oh yeah.” With a groan, he pushed into her. Her head went back, her body contracting hard around him at the exquisite sensation. And it got better. Deeper. Fuller. Hard and hot inside her. His jaw tightened and his temple pulsed as he slowly worked his way inside her body. “Not gonna be long,” he gritted out. “Sorry, Lovey…” He began to move in and out, holding her knees up, and she could only stare in amazement at him there between her legs, his heavily muscled body so beautiful and

strong, wide at the shoulders, lean at waist and hips. Her gaze tracked down over smooth skin on ridged abs to the thick patch of brown hair at his groin, erotically masculine. They moved together in desperate slides of liquid heat, sensation wrapping around her, tightening. “S’okay,” she panted. “I’m…I’m coming already.” It was there, right there, already, expanding rapidly, building. She reached for one of his thighs with her left hand and slid her right hand to her clit. He watched with a moan, moving faster, hips pumping, and she could tell his own climax was

building. Then she lost that focus as her orgasm exploded, so hard she shuddered and cried out and pushed against him. When he kept moving inside her, stroking against ultrasensitive nerve endings, fire burned over her clit. “Fuck yeah,” he groaned, falling over her. She took his weight and absorbed it, wrapping arms and legs around him tightly as he went taut and still against her, pulsing inside her. He buried his face in the side of her neck, his breath short, scalding bursts against her skin. She opened her mouth on his big shoulder in a long kiss. They stayed

joined like that for several moments, her mouth helplessly kissing his hot, damp skin over and over. “Jesus,” he muttered a while later, lifting his head. He looked down at her, his cheeks flushed, eyes glittering. He slid in and out of her, slowly. It didn’t seem he was going soft. “What the hell was that?”

Chapter 13 Marc stared down at the woman beneath him, both of them still breathing heavily. She gazed back at him, so fucking gorgeous he could barely think. Her gold-speckled green eyes were slumberous and sexy, her mouth swollen, her hair a tangled mass of red-gold brightness on his black pillowcase. That was some kind of chemical explosion. Her mouth curved into a smile and her fingers petted his shoulders. “That was good,” she

answered his rhetorical question. “Good?” His eyes widened a little. “That wasn’t good…that was fucking napalm.” Her smile deepened. “Okay, that’s a better description.” So she’d felt it too. “You, um…seem like you could go again already.” She wriggled her hips beneath him. “I can.” He gave his head a shake. “That’s…impressive.” “I can go all night,” he boasted, then felt stupid. Luckily she laughed. He grinned back at her. “Glad to hear that.”

“This is probably when we should be having a ‘what the hell have we done’ moment.” “Let’s not. You are not going to insult me by listing all the reasons we shouldn’t have done this. And we are not going to even mention… certain family members while we’re in bed having sex. That’s just wrong.” “I hear you.” He was right there with her, pushing aside thoughts of Duncan and how fucking furious he was going to be about this. Not going there. Right now, he felt too good, hormones flooding his body and taking away every particle of

good sense, urging him to go for it, another round with the beautiful, sexy woman who was right there, naked in his bed and more than happy to be there. How could any guy resist that? How could he resist the enormous pleasure that had just slammed through him, leaving him stunned, barely satisfied, and desperate for more? How could he resist those shining eyes and that sexy mouth? Or all the rest of her, most of which he hadn’t even explored yet. “Don’t think it’s a good idea to use the same condom twice,” he

muttered, slowly withdrawing from her. Her body clung to him as if she didn’t want to let him go, but she dropped her arms to the mattress as he climbed off the bed to get rid of the rubber. And grab another one. She watched him, and that made him even hornier, the way her eyes studied him with frank appreciation. “There,” she said. “Stop right there.” He stopped and glanced over his shoulder at the bed. “Your ass,” she said with a sigh. “It’s gorgeous.” He huffed out a laugh and closed his eyes. Jesus. She was…fun.

“Come back here so I can put my hands all over it.” He grabbed a condom on his way, his cock already fully hard again, his balls aching, but a smile on his face. Back in bed, he reached for her and pulled her toward him. Now she lay half on him, and he brought her mouth to his, his thigh between her legs again, her hot pussy pressed there. He kissed her slower this time, softly at first, tasting inside her mouth, playing with her tongue. She kissed him back, long, deep, wet kisses that went on and on until his head spun and his dick

hurt. He couldn’t think, could only feel her small, soft body pressed against him, her hips moving against his thigh. He shifted, pressing his leg into her, and she moaned into his mouth. Her hand slid into his hair and her tongue stroked over his bottom lip, then slipped inside his mouth again. He wanted to swallow her up, consume her, fuck her crazy. He palmed her ass, enjoying the way she rocked needily into him. Christ, she was hot. This was what he’d wanted ever since she’d kissed him that night, maybe even before.

Their mouths slid apart and he ran his tongue up the side of her neck. She gave a full-bodied shiver in his arms. She tasted sweet and feminine, and smelled the same, delicious as a cupcake. He rolled her to her back, pushing her down into the mattress again, claiming her mouth. She whimpered, her mouth opening for him, their kisses going hotter still. He cupped a breast, so incredible, soft yet firm, pointy little nipple against his palm. He’d almost lost his mind sucking those nipples, perfect little peaks that tasted like temptation. And he was going to

lose his mind all over again, bending his head to pull a nipple into his mouth, tugging on it with gentle suction. Her fingers slid through his hair, her soft whimpers and moans filling his ears. “Marc,” she whispered. “I love that…” “Mmm.” That was agreement, but he didn’t want to stop to form words. He moved to the other breast, plumping it up with his hand, first admiring it with his eyes, then his tongue. He pinched her other nipple and her back arched with a soft cry, her hips moving again.

He knelt over her, hands on her breasts, kissing his way down her midriff, over her taut abdomen. He paused at the script tattooed over her right ribs, taking in the words live, laugh, love. He traced them with a fingertip, a simple scroll font, elegant and pretty. “Words to live by?” She lifted her head and nodded, her eyes molten, her smile slow and seductive. “Yes.” They suited her. But he couldn’t stop from asking, “Is that the extent of your life goals?” He knew his mistake by the immediate way her soft body

tightened. The air in the room changed in the blink of an eye from soft and warm to coolly electric. When he met her eyes, they’d changed too, from molten to chilly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Uh…it was just a question.” “It felt like a criticism.” “I didn’t mean it like that,” he protested, but guilt curled inside his belly. He kind of had been judging her. “I really wanted to know.” She gave him a long, level look. “You and—never mind, we’re not supposed to talk about him in bed.” She rolled her eyes and flopped her head down onto the pillow.

“Guess I killed that mood, huh.” Her lips twitched. “Not entirely.” “I pushed a button,” he said, with a flash of realization. She frowned. “I’m sorry.” Really, really sorry, because his dick still throbbed and he had to recover this tout de suite. But that was selfish. He’d hurt her feelings. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he attempted. “Your tattoo suits you. From what I know of you so far anyway. I know you like to laugh.” He kissed her mouth. “I know you live life to the fullest.” This time her mouth was softer when he touched his lips to hers.

“And you’re definitely good at loving.” He infused a suggestive tone into his voice. “Very good.” She laughed. Thank fuck. “Let’s just be clear.” She gave him a fast, hard kiss back. “This is not loving. This is sex. Pure fun, animal sex.” He blinked. He’d never heard a girl say anything like that before. Usually girls got sex and love mixed up right from the start. One fuck and they were in love. But here was Lovey setting him straight. Not that he needed that. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s the kind of loving I meant.” Then she shoved him onto his

back and rolled on top of him. She gazed down into his eyes. “Thank you. I do live life to the fullest. Which is what we’re doing right now. Right?” “Right.” “I want to see your tattoos.” “How do you know I have any?” “I saw them,” she said. “I mean, a glimpse of them. What are they?” She was already wriggling off him, so he shifted his hips on the bed. He let her explore the red maple leaf on his hip, the Olympic rings on his arm, the ace of spades, which was the team symbol, on his shoulder, and the words Stanley

Cup Champions, Chicago Aces on his left ribs. “Very nice.” She gave him another sexy curve of her lips, kissed his chin, one tattoo, then another, and started slinking down his body toward the one on his hip. Jesus fuck, she was heading straight south. His mouth went dry and his skin went hot. And his dick…leaped with excitement. Should he let her do it? Not that he didn’t want it. He loved it. Blow jobs were one of his favorite extracurricular activities. But this was their first time. But…okay, he’d see how far she went…if she wanted

to… Her hand curled around his prick and his entire body jolted with an electric shock. He groaned. “Lovey…” “Wanna taste you,” she whispered. “You’re beautiful.” He was beautiful? Fuck. Nobody’d ever told him that. He’d heard the words “huge,” “hung,” and once a memorable “meh,” but never “beautiful.” He kind of liked that. He reached for her head and set a gentle hand on it. “Cherie,” he murmured thickly. “You don’t have to do that.” “I want to.”

He lifted his head to watch, and she did look fascinated and hungry as she licked over the head. Jesus! Heat expanded rapidly from his groin to every extremity, scalding his veins. She tongued him, closed her lips around him, and then slid them down his shaft. Excitement ripped through him. He was on the edge already, and the feel of her mouth on him, hot and wet, along with the visual of her pretty lips around him, nearly blew the top of his head off. “Much as I fucking love that,” he said on a groan, reaching for her with both hands, “I’m about to go

off and that’s not how I want to do it. We said slow this time.” “You said you can go all night.” Her smile was playful. “I was totally bullshitting.” She tipped her head. “Somehow I don’t think so.” But she let him pull her up over him and then roll her to her back again. “What did you call me?” “Uh…” “Before…cherie.” “Yeah. Ma cherie. Ma belle. T’es belle, Lovey.” He kissed her again. “Très belle.” “Oh my God.” Her body quivered.

“You’re speaking French to me. That is so fucking sexy.” He grinned. Whew. Apparently he’d gotten past his little faux pas. “Although I have no idea what you’re saying,” she added, twining her arms around his neck. He settled between her thighs once more. “It’s all good. Trust me.” It was his turn to kiss and nibble his way down her body, pausing at her pierced navel to tug at the jewelry with his lips, then lower. Her breathing hitched and quickened. “You don’t have to do that.” She repeated his words.

He smiled against her lower belly. “I want to.” And he did. He so did. He needed a few minutes, and this was the perfect way. He wanted to explore every inch of her pussy, taste it and feel it and make her feel good. Maybe give her an extra orgasm before they fucked again. Yeah. He would definitely do that. He slid lower still, pushed her thighs wide with his hands, and feasted his eyes on feminine perfection. She was mostly smooth and bare, a patch of auburn curls on her mound. Plump, pink lips were pressed almost primly together, hiding secrets and delight. He licked

his lips as he studied her. She was up on her elbows, watching him, a half smile perched on her pretty lips. “Just looking at me isn’t going to give me an orgasm.” He shot her a startled glance, then caught the glimmer of humor in her eyes and barked out a laugh. “Babe,” he said, reverting to English, “be patient.” He’d never met anyone like her. She said things that knocked him off balance. She completely entertained him. Entranced him. And she turned him on like whoa. Ignoring his throbbing dick and

balls, he took his time brushing fingertips over her pussy, then leaning in to press small kisses to the soft flesh. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, hungry to taste her. He opened his mouth on her in deeper kisses, gently sucking soft skin into his mouth, working his way up and down, detouring to her inner thighs, then back. Her breathing quickened. He expanded his exploration, wrapping his arms around her thighs and using his thumbs to gently part her. Now his used his tongue, running it over her, up and

down, deeper to slick up her feminine arousal. Her breathing turned to soft little pleasure sounds that went straight to his dick. He once again leisurely explored her body, immersing himself in her taste and scent, the feel of her quivering against his tongue and her thigh muscles tensing in his arms. “Sweet.” He pulled back to study her again, now more open to him, shiny wet shades of pink. “And so pretty.” “Oh wow.” He looked up at her. Still on her elbows, she watched him with

hooded eyes and parted lips. “You’re really good at that,” she breathed. He smiled and resumed licking her. She was so wet, clearly turned on, and this time he let his tongue rub over her clit. Her body spasmed and now she collapsed flat on her back. He reached up and captured her nipples in his fingers as he opened his mouth over her. She trembled and her hips lifted to his mouth. He flicked his tongue back and forth over the knot, absorbing how her soft cries got louder, whimpered pants of delight. Then her clit swelled against his tongue

and her body pressed into his mouth, going still. “Oh God!” Her hands fisted in the sheets, head tossing on the pillow. “Oh my God.” He gave a long, firm suck and her body writhed. When he lifted his head to look up at her, her breasts rose and fell with quick respiration. He released her nipples, gave her one last soft kiss, and then rose to his knees. He grabbed the condom and rolled it on, then slid up her body. “Gonna fuck you now,” he murmured. “Oh wow. Oh my God. I’m

babbling. That was so good. You’re amazing.” He liked hearing that. Also he was thinking that about her as he lined up the head of his cock with her pussy. He needed to be inside her, right fucking now, and then he was, clasped in her tight heat. “So fucking hot,” he murmured. “Yeah, take me, baby. Take it all.” “Go deep. I like that. Deep and hard.” Fuck yeah. “I can do that.” He pushed back to his knees, lifted her legs, and set her feet on his shoulders. “How’s that?” he grunted on a hard thrust.

She moaned. He did it again. And again. Unbelievable. “Harder.” He’d been holding back. He was big. But she wanted it deeper. He fucking loved that. So he gave her more, their bodies banging together with hard jolts that made her soft breasts jiggle. The sight of that made him a little nuts, and his thrusts grew faster as pressure built in his balls. No. Not so fast. Not this time. He needed to slow it down. He withdrew, eliciting a whimper from Lovey’s pretty lips.

“Shh.” He removed her legs from his shoulders. He lowered them to the mattress, turned her hips, pushing her top leg higher, and moved beside her to enter her from behind. “Let’s try this. See how it feels.” He pushed into her, now pressing his groin to her ass. His face close to hers, he nuzzled her hair, her ear, her cheek. “Oh, that’s good too,” she gasped. “Different.” His slid an arm beneath her and found a breast, covering it with his palm and gently squeezing, continuing to slide in and out. She

turned her head and their mouths met, a long clinging kiss. He pushed her top leg higher, getting deeper still inside her and she whimpered more. Sweat dampened their skin. Her softness consumed him. He fucked her like that for a while until it started to build inside him again, and once more he pulled out. “You were right,” she panted. “You can go all night.” He smiled and moved over her. “Damn right.” He positioned her how he wanted her, since she seemed boneless and nearly

incapable of moving on her own. Her eyes wore a dazed expression. He parted her thighs and knelt between them, entered her in a long, liquid push, and then stretched out over her. He wrapped his arms around her head and neck, kissed her cheek, her jaw, her mouth, then pressed his face to her hair as he rocked his pelvis against her. She held on to his shoulders, her hips meeting his every thrust, their bodies slapping together. It rose in him again, and this time he sensed she was with him, so he pushed upright and settled his hand where

they joined. His thumb slickened and he found her clit. He watched her face, her breathing. “Yes,” she breathed helpfully. He always liked knowing when he had it right. “Yes, right there. Do that…” His tongue dragged over his bottom lip. Then his chest expanded and he clenched his jaw against the edge of his impending orgasm, focused on giving her hers first. “Yes, there, fuck me harder,” she begged. He did. She came again, on a long wail that made him feel like a fucking god, and he kept going, closing his eyes as it washed over him, starting at his groin and

flowing through him, hot and intense. His lungs seized and his cock jerked inside her. He stretched out over her, weight on his elbows, face in her neck, panting, heart thudding. He couldn’t even string thoughts together. His mind was blasted. Once more, her hands roamed his back and shoulders, and he slowly straightened his legs out, remaining inside her. She did the same. Still joined, they lay together until he was coherent. It seeped into his consciousness that he felt…good. Really good. That weight of frustration and failure he’d been

carrying around had lifted. She’d made him forget about his problems. Sex was apparently the best kind of stress relief. But… He lifted his head and looked down at her. She gave him the sexiest smile he’d ever seen. He sighed. Her smile slipped. “That didn’t sound good.” “Yeah.” His mouth twisted a little. “We are going to have to have that ‘What the hell have we done’ conversation.”

Chapter 14 Lovey sighed too. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.” “Let me lose the latex.” He slid out of her body and rolled away. She again watched him walk over to the wastebasket near his dresser, the flex of muscles in his ass and thighs so powerful, so gorgeous. His body was amazing, as it should be, a professional athlete in a demanding sport. Was that why the sex had been so incredible? He turned and she watched him

approach the bed, the front view just as awesome. His cock had softened but was still thick and imposing between heavily muscled thighs. She was being bold in her appraisal of him, but it didn’t seem to bother him, apparently comfortable walking nude around his bedroom. He sat on the side of the bed. She lifted an eyebrow at the fact that he hadn’t rejoined her. “Does this mean you’ve run out of stamina, hockey boy?” His lips twitched. He shook his head. “Greedy much? That was three orgasms.”

She grinned, doing an ab curl to sit. She pulled the covers up over her breasts and under her arms, crossed her legs, and settled herself. He might want to have this conversation naked, but she did not. “I just want you to know I have some things to say about this.” He looked at the floor, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “No. Really?” “I know what you’re going to say.” “You do, huh.” “Captain Codger. You’re going to bring up my brother and say we never should have done this and it

can’t happen again.” He pursed his lips. “Duncan is going to be pissed as hell.” She leaned in. “Duncan doesn’t need to know about this,” she said softly, earnestly. “Seriously, Marc. He’s my brother. He doesn’t have a say in my sex life. That’s just icky.” He nodded. “I know he gets all protective, but I’m a big girl. I’ve been having sex for a while now.” “He’s worried you’ll get hurt.” “Well, that’s sweet of him. But he can’t protect me from getting hurt. I’m the only one who can do that.”

He blinked, then said slowly, “I guess that’s true.” “It was good.” She set a hand on his big biceps and gave a gentle squeeze. “Wasn’t it?” He studied her and she knew he felt it too. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Beyond good.” “I think the word you used was ‘napalm.’ ” His mouth flickered, almost into a smile. “True.” “It’s our own business. I don’t tell him about every guy I have sex with. So we won’t tell him. Okay?” She sensed his internal struggle.

His need to be honest with his friend and teammate, along with his need to maintain their relationship. “I agree with you,” he finally said. She blinked. “It is none of his business, and I wouldn’t tell him either, because that’s not respectful to you.” More blinks. “But he did warn me to stay away from you, and that’s what bugs me. I told him I would and now I’ve gone against my word.” Her heart went soft. “That’s important to you.” “Of course it is.”

He was honorable. She liked that. A lot. “Now I feel bad for putting you in this spot.” “Christ, it wasn’t all your fault. I was right there with you, babe.” “I guess lust was overriding good sense for both of us.” She bit her lip. “Look. I’m moving out. We’ll just keep this between us until then. For the sake of maintaining harmony between all of us here over the next couple months.” “I can do that.” He didn’t look too sure about it, though. “Perfect. We’re good, then.” She beamed at him. “So…” She looked down at his lap.

“No,” he said. “No way. We don’t know when Duncan’s coming home and you have to be in your own bed when he does.” She pouted even though she knew that was true. She glanced at the alarm clock next to Marc’s bed. Nearly two in the morning. Duncan could be home anytime. Damn. “Fine. I am tired. You wore me out, big guy.” She dropped the covers and wriggled across the bed and off it to stand. Naked. Her towel was still on the bathroom floor where they’d left it hours earlier. She’d never been particularly proud of her body, but

nor was she ashamed of it. She didn’t mind what she saw in the mirror, though it seemed like nothing special to her—average boobs and hips, a small enough waist. She could wish her stomach was a little flatter and her thighs a little thinner, but other than Victoria’s Secret models, probably every girl did. But now as she walked out of his bedroom, she found herself aware of her body and how it looked, because she really, really wanted Marc to like it. She hurried to the bathroom, where there were still bloody marks

on the mat and tile, albeit now dry. She wrapped the towel around her again, scrubbed everything clean, then paused to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a hive, she had whisker burn pinkening her jaw, her lips were puffy. But damn, she looked happy. Three orgasms. And not just wussy little climaxes. Three amazeballs, stupendous explosions. Her pussy clenched just remembering. She let out a shaky little sigh. She tried to push aside the guilt at putting Marc in an awkward

position with Duncan. She reminded herself she wasn’t totally to blame. It wasn’t like she’d jumped him and forced him to have sex with her. There really was something between them, something hot and amazing. And Duncan would never know about this, so there was that. Things would just go on as they had before. It would all be fine. She headed into her bedroom, where she’d left a lamp on. She’d just changed into her cami and boy shorts and climbed into bed when she heard Duncan come home. She clicked off the light and snuggled

into her bed. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Marc she was tired. Her eyes dropped closed right away. As she drifted off to sleep, her body satisfied and relaxed, her mind wished she wasn’t alone. — The next week was super-busy, which was good because she didn’t want much time to think about Marc, and she also didn’t want much time where she had to actually be with him, because she was pretty sure she might not be able to resist touching him. In fact, she might just jump him and force

him to have sex with her. The guys were busy too, with practices, games, and some promo work the team was doing. She found a yoga studio nearby and started going to classes. She learned how to make spring rolls. She worked hard at her business. She met with another potential client, not as big as Panache, but pretty darn good, a growing company that produced natural bath and body products. She went out with her camera and took pictures for her blog, Sugar Blossom. Traffic to her site was growing and she spent some time analyzing data to see if

she could charge more for advertising. She made arrangements for the rest of her belongings that were in storage to be shipped to her new apartment for January second, since nobody was working on New Year’s Day. She went out for dinner and to a movie with Jillian and Leigh one night, and they made plans to buy tickets for the Aces home game the next weekend. She didn’t expect Marc or Duncan to give her free tickets all the time. Of course, busy as they all were, there was no way to completely avoid seeing Marc. When she ran

into him in the kitchen Monday morning, their eyes met and sparks snapped between them. Her insides did a little flip and her skin tingled. But they both acted nonchalant and went about getting their respective breakfasts, with Duncan sitting on a stool reading the newspaper and cursing the article some sports reporter had written about their latest loss. “Don’t read that shit,” Marc told him. “He’s speculating all kinds of crap about Ronner,” Duncan said. “He’s injured. He’s a drug addict. Next they’ll be saying he has a brain

tumor.” Lovey’s eyebrows lifted at Marc’s muttered “Fuck.” She ran into Marc a few other times, always with that little jolt of heat and electricity, which they both tried to ignore. Thursday night she found herself home alone. She didn’t know if Marc and Duncan were out together or separately. She made herself a bowl of popcorn and decided to watch a movie. She found a recent release on Netflix she’d wanted to see in the theater but never had, and settled in with her popcorn to watch.

When Marc walked in an hour and a half later she was sobbing into her half-empty bowl of popcorn. “What’s wrong?” He walked into the living room and took in her tear-wet face. He came at her with purpose, concern etched on his face. “I’m okay,” she sobbed. His eyebrows slanted down as he sat beside her on the couch and slid an arm around her shoulders. “No, you’re not. You’re crying.” “I’m watching a movie,” she sobbed. “It’s really sad.” His eyes went wide. He looked at the television and then back at her.

“Seriously?” She frowned a little and plucked a tissue from the box on the coffee table. She dabbed her eyes. “Yes. Shhh. They’re in love but they can never, ever be together.” She focused on the movie. He went to move away, but she liked his arm there, so she grabbed his hand and snuggled in closer against him, her legs curled under her. “Where’s Duncan?” “I don’t know. Out. I thought maybe he was with you.” “Nope.” “Then I have no idea. Watch the movie.”

A while later she muttered, “This movie better have a happy ending.” It wasn’t looking too good for these characters. Marc’s lips twitched. They watched the rest. When she started crying again, Marc sighed and put his other arm around her. Wow, that felt really good. She absorbed the feel of his big body and his strong arm holding her. He handed her another tissue. “Thank you,” she murmured, as the heartbroken star-crossed lovers were reunited in a most satisfying way, which made her cry even more as the credits rolled.

“Jesus,” Marc said. “It ended happy and you’re still crying.” “These are happy tears.” She let out a long sigh of pleasure. She looked at him with one eyebrow lifted. “Don’t you feel anything?” “I only saw the last half hour.” “But still…haven’t you ever cried at a movie?” “Fuck no.” She laughed. “Come on, even as a kid? Disney movies never made you cry? I cried at The Lion King.” The smile he’d been trying to repress broke free. “The Lion King? Seriously?”

“Yes! When Simba fights with Scar and learns that his father’s death was Scar’s fault, not his…I totally cried.” “Soft-hearted,” he murmured. “I fully admit to that. It’s better than having no heart at all. Which I would think about you…except I know you have a heart. You have to be passionate about hockey to play like you do.” He shrugged. But she saw the flare in his eyes. He had a lot of passion inside him. She’d seen some of it last weekend, in his bed. She wanted to

see more of it. “I have feelings. I just keep them under control.” She laid her palm on his stubbled cheek and looked in his eyes. “I know you really do have feelings. Even though you seem like you don’t. Always so unemotional. In control.” She leaned forward and brushed her mouth over his. “I’d like to make you lose control.” “Lovey.” The word sounded strangled. “We can’t do this.” “Why not? I thought we agreed— we won’t tell Duncan.” “He could walk in that door any minute.”

“True. Which is why we should move to your bedroom.” She kissed him again, this time letting her tongue glide over his bottom lip. He groaned and his hands shifted to her waist. She tilted her head and went in again, opening her mouth on his, and yes, yes, yes, he kissed her back. Expertly. Wetly. Meltingly. She gave it a few minutes to get him hot enough that he wouldn’t try to put an end to things, but she might not have been in as much control as she thought she was, because her thoughts went spinny and her pussy was aching when she

finally drew back to whisper, “Bedroom.” She shifted away to put her feet on the floor and rise, but her knees weren’t entirely steady. Marc grabbed her as she wobbled, bounding up off the couch. “Whoa there.” She smiled. “You got me all weak and shaky.” He shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifted. She went on tiptoes to kiss one corner of his mouth, then the other. “Come on.” “How do you do this?” He followed her down the hall.

“Do what?” “Always get your way.” She paused and shot him a flirty smile over her shoulder. “It’s a gift.” “No kidding.” “Come on. You want this too. That wasn’t a puck in your jeans pressing up against me.” He gave a choked-sounding laugh. She had the presence of mind to shut her bedroom door. Just in case. And Marc shut his bedroom door behind them. She’d hit the light switch when she entered, but now

headed toward the lamp on the table beside the bed. Some lighting was sexy, but not full, bright overhead light. She flicked the lamp on and said, “You can turn off that light.” He did, but as he walked toward her, almost a prowl, he said, “You wanna know something about me?” She shivered at the predatory look in his eyes and stared up at him as he came to stand right in front of her. “Sure.” “I do like to be in control.” She nodded. “So stop telling me what to do.”

Her lips curved and heat darted low in her belly. “Sorry.” “I’m not complaining, but just once I’d like to be the one who seduces you.” Her heart skipped a beat, leaving her breathless. She loved that. She loved that so much it almost scared her. “You’re not complaining…but you are complaining.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Damn. She couldn’t stop the smart remark that came from her nerves. And she’d missed a pretty amazing opportunity. Maybe she could get it back. “I would love to be

seduced,” she said, voice throaty. “Start now.” His eyes opened. He still looked hot for her, but his eyes now gleamed with amusement. “Babe,” he said. “What did I just say?” “Uh…oh.” She blinked. “Right.” “Too late for tonight.” He reached for her. “Have your way with me.” But next time…The unspoken words hung between them as clear as if they’d been uttered aloud. She so wanted there to be a next time. And they hadn’t even really started this time. His hands closed on her hips and he yanked her up against him. He

was like a wall, big and solid. Her palms flattened on his chest over the blue-and-white-striped buttondown shirt he wore. She wanted to climb him. Excitement circled in her belly. He hoisted her up so their mouths could meet and they kissed again. His mouth moved on hers with hungry heat, his tongue sliding into her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and head and let him consume her. Their mouths were feverish, grinding. He pushed her lips farther apart and stole her breath. Have her way with him. As if.

Next thing she knew, the room was spinning as he picked her up, spun around, and headed toward the bed. This cave man carrying her around thing was hot. For a brief, bizarre second she tried to imagine Richard picking her up and carrying her. She almost laughed out loud, but then was distracted when Marc sat on the bed with her on his lap and proceeded to kiss her dizzy again. Sensation swelled inside her and raced through her blood. His hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth, then slid down the side of her neck, over her collarbone, and cupped her

breast through her thin sweater. She sucked in a breath, pushing her breast deeper into his palm as he gently squeezed and rubbed her. Sweetness melted down through her, right to her core. She moaned. He shifted her on his lap and reached for the hem of her sweater. She lifted her arms so he could pull it off, leaving her in her sheer nude lace demi bra. He gazed at her with hot, seductive admiration. “Sweet.” He traced fingers over her cleavage. He pushed one strap down her arm, tugged the cup beneath her breast, and bent his head to take her nipple

into his mouth. Oh my stars! Her head went back as bliss blazed through her and liquid heat surged between her thighs. As his mouth tugged on the tender peak and his tongue flicked it, his hand went low, skimming over the front of her yoga pants to cup her pussy. He held her there, where she ached and melted, sucking her nipples, licking the curves of her breasts. Then his hand moved and began to rub her, the heel of his palm pressing on her clit. “Oh yeah,” she groaned, holding on to his shoulders so she didn’t fly

up in the air. She parted her legs to give him a little more access and he accepted that invitation, now delving his hand into her pants, into her panties, his long fingers sliding into her folds. His hand was immediately slick, and he rubbed two wet fingers over her clit, circling it with impressive accuracy. “Ah!” She bit her lip, slid her fingers into his hair to hold his big head at her breast, where he teased her nipples into almost unbearable hardness. Fire spread through her body and a moan climbed her throat. Then she tumbled into

violent spasms, pleasure bursting inside her. He lifted his head from her breast, cradled hers in his palm, and pressed her face to his chest, holding her through her orgasm. She panted and trembled. “Wow,” she finally managed to say. “We didn’t even get all our clothes off.” She felt his chest shake and smiled. He was so damn serious, she found she liked making him laugh. She settled against him, limp and satisfied. Then she was flat on her back on the bed, gazing up at him.

Chapter 15 Marc knew he was crazy to be doing this. But damn, she was irresistible, like a drug, and he wanted that high again. This week had been shit, but here, with her making him smile and making him hard, it all faded away. With her curled up on his lap like a contented little kitten, he closed his eyes briefly at the quiet in his head, the way his shoulders had relaxed. His dick, on the other hand, was

anything but. He lifted Lovey off his lap and tossed her to her back on the mattress, then reached for the loose black yoga pants she wore. He dragged them down over slender thighs as she stared up at him with a look that damn near undid him. Yeah, she was all flushed and sleepy-eyed from the orgasm, but the look in her eyes was something else…admiration. Excitement. He did that to her. He studied her pretty body, lying on his black comforter, wearing nothing but a sheer skin-colored bra and matching panties. She

might as well have nothing on, her hard rosy nipples clearly visible, the thong panties a mere triangle of sheer lace. She was gorgeous, smooth pale skin, slender curves, tiny gold freckles like the ones on her cheeks scattered across her chest and shoulders. His dick jerked, white hot need building inside him. “I love the way you look at me,” she murmured, bending her elbows so her hands were beside her head, pushing her breasts out. And he’d just been thinking the same thing about her. This was fucking scary.

But not scary enough to deter him from stripping off his jeans, boxers, and shirt, climbing up over her and straddling her on his knees while he removed her bra and panties. Her gaze tracked down his chest and abs to where his cock thrust out aggressively. She licked her lips. Damn, the way she’d sucked his cock that night…like she loved it. With her bra gone, he cupped her bare breasts. Perfect soft globes that filled his hands, hard little nipples that made his mouth water. He caressed her, pinched her nipples, rolled them between his fingertips.

Her eyes darkened and her breathing hitched. She reached for his cock. Soft fingers closed around him and he clenched his ass cheeks at the heat building in his balls. He toyed with her nipples, his gaze moving between her sweet tits and her hand stroking his cock. His own breathing went ragged, his heartbeat deepening to unsteady thuds. Her lips lifted in a small smile, her cheeks going even pinker. She bent her legs and lifted her pelvis. “You want me to fuck you?” he murmured, his hands drifting down

over her narrow ribcage and then clasping her waist. She looked tiny in his big hands. Delicate. “Yes. Please.” He shifted his knees, nudging her thighs apart so he could move between them. Yeah. There was that gorgeous pussy he’d started to get to know the other night, the softest, sweetest treasure. “You need a condom.” His eyes snapped up to her face, horror sweeping through him. How could he have forgotten something so basic? “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sorry. Don’t move.” He leaped off the bed to grab one

out of the drawer on the other side of the bed, ripped it open, rolled it on, and was back in place in seconds. “Impressive speed,” she said. “I like watching you touch yourself like that.” His blood scalded his veins in a fast rush at her words. “Yeah?” He lined up the head at her entrance, knowing she was wet. “I’d like to watch you touch yourself too.” Her eyes went wide. “Really?” she breathed. He pushed inside her and she sucked in air. “Really.” Why did he keep talking about

the things they were going to do to each other, when they shouldn’t even be doing this? Should. Not. But that thought was smoke in the wind, gone, as her pussy closed around him and squeezed. Hot. Wet. Fantastic. He held her thighs as he pressed in deeper and deeper, until he was throbbing inside her, his dark hair pressed to the patch of curls at her mound. The contrast of their bodies where they were joined was stunning. Hot. He began to move, slow, sure thrusts, long slides of erotic pleasure, watching her face, watching her eyes go hazy and her

mouth soft. He let go of her thighs and held her waist again as he drove in harder. Faster. “That’s good,” she gasped. “I like it like that.” She took it all, and apparently loved it, every hard smack of their bodies together. He could let himself go, be real, be physical and rough and raw. Christ, that was the most powerful aphrodisiac of all, that she wanted from him what he wanted so desperately to give her. She fingered her clit, her top teeth sunk into her lush bottom lip, eyes nearly closed. “Yes,” she

whispered. “Do that…fuck me…” Yeah, he was fucking her, holding on to make sure she came, although pressure was gathering fast inside him. A groan rumbled up from his chest and he tipped his head back. Then she gave a series of soft cries, her pussy rippling around him. His balls were torturously tight, the base of his spine aching, and then sensation rocketed through him in a bolt of red hot electricity. She dropped her hand to the bed and he came down over her to bury his face in her neck while wrenching spasms shook his body. Her arms came to his shoulders,

her thighs on his hips, and she held on tight as they strained together. Yeah, that last time hadn’t been his imagination. They had some kind of sensational connection. After a while, he rolled off her, his index and middle finger on the base of his dick to hold the condom in place. He flattened onto his back beside her. She reached a hand out and set it on his thigh. He did the same, his chest still rising and falling with heavy breathing. “Thank you,” she finally said. He turned his head, lips lifting into a smile. “Thank you?” Their eyes met and he felt a tug

deep inside him. “Yeah. Thank you. Two orgasms. Two amazing orgasms. You’re amazing.” His chest swelled. “Thanks. You’re kind of amazing too.” He knifed up. “Be right back.” He disposed of the condom. When he turned, she was still lying sideways across the bed. It was a king-size bed and she could easily sleep that way if she wanted. He stretched out beside her again, his feet hanging off the side of the bed, on his side, head on his hand to look down at her. He had to touch her. He trailed fingers over the tiny freckles on her

shoulder and her collarbone. “I like your freckles.” “I hate ’em.” “What? Why?” “Eh. I don’t hate them as much as I used to. I was a redheaded, freckle-faced kid, especially in the summers. That gets you a lot of teasing. My nickname was Pippy. Now I’ve accepted them as part of me.” “They’re an important part of you.” He drew a finger down between her breasts. “They make you unique.” He palmed her ribs and noticed the tattoo again, brushed his fingers over it. “As does

your tattoo.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “I know it’s not original. But I do believe in those things.” “Sure.” “Last time…when you noticed it… you asked me if those were really my goals in life.” He didn’t say anything to that. “I know you and Duncan both think I’m just flitting around having fun. That I quit a good job on a whim.” “You’re looking for another job.” “Not exactly.” He squinted a little at her. “What

does that mean?” “I’m not really looking for a job. I’ve started my own business.” He blinked. Oh Christ. “Uh. What kind of business?” “It’s social media consulting. I help companies with their online marketing presence.” “Like…on Twitter?” “And Facebook. And other networking sites. Where and how much depends on the company.” “So…you have clients?” “Yes.” She smiled at him, eyes glowing. “I do. I had a few before I even came to Chicago, and I’m

actually still doing contract work for Kleinheinz. I did some of that when I worked for them and they liked what I was doing, so I kept them as a client. Since I’ve been here, I’ve gotten two more contracts and I met with a really big clothing company last week that I’m still waiting to hear back from.” She drew her bottom lip in between her teeth briefly. “I’d really like to get that contract. But since I haven’t heard anything, I’m starting to think they’ve gone with someone else.” He pressed his hand to her ribs. “I had no idea that’s what you were

doing.” “I know. And Duncan doesn’t either.” “Why haven’t you told him?” “I don’t know.” She now reached out to touch him, rubbing his biceps. Her gaze dropped to her hand. “I don’t want him to laugh at me. He thinks I’m a big screwup. He’ll never believe that I can do this.” His chest tightened. “Shit, Lovey. Sure he will.” She shook her head. “I just want to wait until I’m more…established. So he can’t not believe.” Her forehead creased briefly. “If you

know what I mean.” “Yeah. I know what you mean.” “So don’t say anything to him. I just wanted you to know…I do have goals in life.” Something softened inside him. “Yeah.” “I also have a blog.” “Okay.” What the fuck? A blog? “It’s pretty popular and people pay to advertise on it. So I’m making some money from that too. And since I quit my job, I’ve had more time to work on it, so I think I can make that grow too.” “People pay you to advertise on

your blog?” Whoa. That had to mean a lot of eyes were on that blog. Not that he knew anything about this shit. “Yeah. They do. I’m getting more requests, and I think I can start charging more.” “So you actually make money from it.” Her eyes crinkled up as she smiled. “Yeah.” “Cool.” His forehead creased. “What kind of blog?” His hand drifted down to her waist, then her hip. “It’s called Sugar Blossom. I post about things that appeal to me—

pretty things, like clothes or makeup. Food. Things for the home. I take pictures for it.” He’d seen her with her camera. “Are you a good photographer?” She made a face. “I’m decent. I took some photography classes in college. It was always a hobby of mine.” “I’ll have to check out your blog.” She smiled, her hand on his shoulder, fingers idly brushing his skin. “It probably won’t be very interesting to you. But yeah, you can look at it and see what I do.” He picked up on the pride that laced her voice, but also a hint of nervous

hesitation. The obvious love of what she did and pride in it, as well as her uncertainty, made something swell up inside his chest. He had misjudged her. She’d known that, had never defended herself…until now. Now she was telling him because she wanted him to know more of her. The real her. And again, the feeling of connection tugged at him. “Don’t tell Duncan, okay?” “I won’t. But—” She lightly set her fingers on his lips. “I will tell him, eventually.” He removed her hand gently. “Telling him might get him off your

back.” “Maybe. He doesn’t get it. He was always good at what he did. Everyone knew he was going to make it big, achieve his dreams. I didn’t even have a dream.” He made a rough noise in his throat and his fingers tightened on her. “It’s true. Growing up, nobody paid much attention to that. It was fine. I was happy, even though sometimes I wished I had some super talent that would make everyone proud. But now I’ve finally figured out what I want to do, something I’m good at, that will

make me happy. I want to do something that I love, not just work so I can get paid every two weeks.” That he got. He totally got that. “Then that’s what you should do.” “Thank you.” Her eyes glowed at him. “I wish my family felt the same. Duncan’s always on my back about something.” “Hence the lesbian thing.” She giggled. “Yeah.” She rolled into him and his hand slid around to the small of her back, pulling her tight up against him. “I feel good.” Shit. Why’d he say that? “Mmm. Me too. I’m glad you feel

good.” She tipped her head back to peer at him. “Did you not feel good before this?” “Not really. It’s kind of been a crap week.” “Oh no.” Her eyes became shadowed. “Why? Wait. Let’s get under the covers.” A minute later they were settled beneath his duvet, her body curled up in his arms. And he found himself telling her of his worries about Dale, and how his behavior was impacting the team and how he felt responsible for getting them out of this slump. He couldn’t admit to anyone else the sense of failure he

felt, the worry that he wasn’t good enough or strong enough to get them through this. He had to be a leader to the group, give off confidence and strength, not doubt and worry. Lovey listened and asked questions and stroked his shoulder and neck again as they talked. “Have you told Coach your suspicions about Dale?” “No. I don’t want to rat him out.” “It’s not ratting him out.” She paused. “This is what Mom used to tell Duncan and me when we were kids—if you’re telling on someone to get them into trouble, it’s

squealing. If you’re telling on someone to get them out of trouble, it’s helping. When I told her that Duncan was planning to climb up to the roof of the house and jump off with a homemade parachute, he was mad, but I only did it because I was terrified he was going to die. Mom told me it was okay I told on him that time. But the time I told her he was the one who’d put the dent in the fender of Mom’s car… that was just to get him in trouble.” Marc laughed. “That’s good advice.” “So maybe you should tell him. And anyway, I bet you anything

Coach has his own suspicions.” “You could be right.” The door to the condo opened and closed with a thump. Their eyes met, Lovey’s wide and panicked. Shit. Army. They’d completely lost track of time. Not that they’d had any idea when Army was coming home anyway. Mother of all fuckers! Now what were they supposed to do? “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I closed my bedroom door. He won’t go in there, and he won’t come in here. Uh, right?”

“Right, he won’t.” He hoped. He clicked off the lamp so the room was dark and Army would assume he was asleep, and they stayed very still and quiet. Except he had a warm, soft, naked woman in his arms, and it was dark and warm and…sexy. And apparently Lovey felt the same because her face turned into his and she found his mouth with hers. Their kiss was long and deep and slow. And…risky. They heard Army moving through the condo, doing something in the kitchen, then his steps in the hall as he went into his bedroom. Then he came back out to

do something. Then went back in. His bedroom door closed and the noises became faint. Marc almost forgot to listen, getting lost in Lovey, in her taste, her scent, the feel of her in the dark. He licked into her mouth, and his body responded, hardening. Christ. This was a mistake. She had to get out of there and into her own room—now. “Lovey.” He managed to draw back and whisper her name. “You have to go to your own room.” “I know.” She kissed his jaw. “I will.” “You should get dressed.”

“I can’t find my clothes in the dark.” She had him there. “If we wait too long I’m afraid I’ll keep you here all night.” “I’d be okay with that.” He chuckled. “I would too, if it weren’t for your damn brother across the hall. Christ, Lovey. This is all kinds of messed up.” She sighed against him. “I know. I’m sorry.” “I told you, it’s not all on you. I wanted it too.” “I know.” He had a hard time stopping the

laugh that wanted to burst out of him. “Just a few more minutes,” she said. “To make sure he’s in bed. I’ll just run to my room.” “I’ll put the light on so you can find your clothes. Get dressed. If he sees you coming out of my room naked, we’re both fucked.” “Literally and figuratively.” He wanted to laugh again. How could she be making him laugh when they were in so much shit here? They stayed in bed and he resolutely stopped himself from kissing or petting her. His dick was

half hard and didn’t need any encouragement to get harder. Finally, Lovey said, “Okay, I think it’s safe. I haven’t heard anything for a while.” “Yeah.” He turned the lamp back on and watched her get out of bed, the lovely curve of her back, the taut cheeks of her ass, her red-gold hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. She quickly pulled on her yoga pants and sweater, then turned to him. “I’ll leave my bra and panties here,” she whispered. “I’ll get them some other time.” Fuck no! She could not leave her

sexy little under things in his room! Never mind Duncan, he didn’t need to see that. It would make him fucking nuts. But she was already at the door, silently opening it a crack, peeking out, then slipping into the hall. And she was gone. She didn’t even say good night. Christ, he was thinking like a girl, miffed that she didn’t say good night. He flopped down onto his pillow. What was she doing to him? Making him do things he knew he shouldn’t. Okay, not making him, but…enticing him. Making him feel so good. Making him confess things

he couldn’t tell anyone else. He was going to have to do a better job of controlling himself. He was known for staying in control of his emotions. You couldn’t win a hockey game if you let your emotions get the better of you. It was all about control. Focus. Determination. Qualities he’d developed to a high level. He could totally use them to stay away from Lovey Armstrong.

Chapter 16 Saturday night, Lovey, Jillian, Leigh, and Dior all went to the game. The Aces lost yet again. Lovey watched carefully, not that she was an expert or anything, but it was clear to her that Dale Ronson was playing terribly. He’d turned the puck over several times, missed passes, and took stupid penalties. She could feel the frustration of the team and watched as Coach Brad Wendell bent down to talk to Dale. Well, it was more like yell at

him. She couldn’t hear what he was saying but he appeared frustrated too. Her eyes kept returning to Marc, observing him both on the ice and off. He was trying so hard. Her chest got tight and her stomach knotted as she watched, feeling for him as the Islanders scored again and again. Duncan and some of the guys were going out after the game again, and Lovey had been excited to take her new friends and introduce them to the guys. But after playing so crappy and losing, she had a feeling the atmosphere

wasn’t going to be so much fun. But they went anyway, to the Sin Bin. The atmosphere was kind of subdued, but not as bad as she’d feared. These guys had a pretty impressive ability to leave their work at the rink and forget about it. She guessed they had to be that way. She kept watching for Marc to arrive, eyes continually flicking to the entrance. Now that she knew about his work with sick children, she knew he would be going up to the suite after the game to see them. Finally she had to conclude he

wasn’t coming tonight. Where was he? Had he gone home? She edged closer to Duncan. “Hey. Where’s Marc?” Duncan shrugged. “No idea.” “Can you text him?” “Why?” He gave her a narroweyed look. “I’m…” What could she say? She was concerned about him, but Duncan wouldn’t want to hear that. Shit, why hadn’t she gotten Marc’s phone number? She knew how badly he’d been feeling about things and tonight wasn’t going to help that.

“I’ll text him,” she said. “Give me his number.” Duncan grumbled but pulled out his iPhone and gave it to her. She sent a text, then pretended to participate in a conversation while she waited. Her phone buzzed and she quickly read the message. At home. She nodded slowly. She wanted to be with him. Make sure he wasn’t beating himself up. She slipped off her stool and walked to where Jillian and Leigh were talking to Jared and Brent. “Hey, everyone. I’m heading out.” “Already?” Jillian tipped her head

to one side. “Yeah, suddenly I have a killer headache,” she lied. “Sorry to bail. You guys stay and have fun.” She quickly found a taxi outside and was soon home, using her key to enter the condo. Marc was sitting on the couch, the TV on but muted, reading a book in the light of the floor lamp. She dropped her purse on a table and walked to him. “Hey.” He looked at her. “Hi.” She sat beside him on the couch. “What are you reading?” “Extraordinary Athletic

Performance.” She pursed her lips. “Is it good?” “It’s interesting. It talks about how some skills that we assume are innate, like a goalie’s fast reflexes when he’s stopping a puck, really aren’t. And some things that you’d think are voluntary, like how strong an athlete’s will to train is, might be innate. Kind of that nature versus nurture debate.” “That is interesting.” Weirdly. For her. “Are you trying to learn something?” “I’m always trying to learn something.” His smile went wry. “Did you go see your sick kids

after the game?” “Yeah. They were awesome.” “Why didn’t you meet us at the Sin Bin?” He lifted one big shoulder. “Wasn’t in a mood for it.” “Marc.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Remember? Live. Laugh. Love.” He set down the book and his hand came up to her face, touching her cheek. “I remember. I was living and laughing with those kids. They help put things in perspective. Like, how important is a stupid game when someone so young is battling cancer?”

“Yeah. You’re right.” “Battling cancer and can still smile and laugh. Now, that’s inspiring.” She tipped her head to smile up at him. “It definitely is.” “You didn’t come home with Duncan?” “No. He’s still there. I…” She what? She wanted to see him? Wanted to make sure he was okay? That wasn’t really what this was about. This was about sizzling chemistry and hot sex. “I thought maybe some sex would cheer you up.” He choked on a laugh. “Christ,

Lovey.” She met his eyes. “Well? Would it?” His head moved slowly from side to side, his eyes nonetheless fastened on hers. “Yeah. It would.” She rose and took his hand. He left his book on the couch and they walked down the hall and into his bedroom. — Sunday morning Lovey slept in and loved every minute of it. Even though she didn’t have a job where she left home to go to work every

day, she’d been working hard at her blog and Big Cheese Media, forcing herself to stick to a routine where she got up every morning and worked. So it was eleven o’clock before she emerged from her room. She and Marc had exhausted each other last night. She smiled. She glanced at the open door of his room, which was apparently empty. Duncan’s door was closed. She hadn’t heard him come home last night. Must’ve been late because he still hadn’t been home when she’d crept out of Marc’s room and into her own.

Marc was pushing his arms into his black leather jacket, standing near the kitchen. “Morning,” she said with a yawn. Marc looked at her and as usual, the air changed and went charged as their eyes met. Lovey’s skin tingled. She reached for a mug in the cabinet. “Where are you off to?” “Meeting with Coach.” She nodded slowly. “Are you going to talk to him about Dale?” “Yeah. This shit can’t go on.” She smiled. “Good.” “What are you up to today?” She wondered at his question.

“Yoga class at one. After that, I don’t know. I may wander into some shops. Take some pictures. Pick up something for dinner. Are you here for dinner tonight?” “Roast beef?” he asked hopefully. She laughed. “No. I was thinking about making lasagna, maybe.” “That sounds good.” “Okay. I’ll…see you later.” He nodded, looping a scarf around his neck. “Okay.” They stood looking at each other for a long, wordless moment. Lovey still held an empty mug in her hands. She wanted to kiss him. Was

he thinking the same thing? He broke eye contact and lifted a hand as he headed out. Lovey turned to the coffeemaker. Thoughts and feelings were jumbled up inside her. A weird sort of longing. A confusing mix of happiness and sadness. Even a hint of worry. What was that about? About Marc’s discussion with his coach, and how that was going to go? Maybe. While she drank her coffee, she tossed some ingredients into the blender—coconut milk, spinach, pineapple, and a banana—and whirled it until it was smooth. She

poured it into a glass and dropped a wide straw into it. She wandered with her smoothie over to the windows to study the view. Overcast day, pale gray sky. Dull and a little gloomy. She sighed. Her mood needed a pick-me-up. Maybe she should ask Marc about doing some volunteer work with sick kids. If it helped him keep things in perspective, maybe it would help her. She’d done volunteer work back in Madison, so she should find something like that to do here. Getting outside yourself was a healthy thing to do. She changed into her yoga clothes

and went to class. That helped with her mood. She felt a little more settled when she left there. She explored some shops in the neighborhood, delighted to find a stationery shop that was full of pretty things…adorable desktop organizers, lovely journals, scented candles and unique holders…she spent a good while looking around and selected an irresistible buttercream scented candle in a cute jar. Then she paused at a section devoted to games and studied the black boxes of Cards Against Humanity. She’d heard people talking about it and how hilarious it

was. Something hilarious was always a good thing. Laughter was important. So she bought the game, not sure what exactly she was going to do with it. She walked toward the Italian market where she did most of her shopping. The clouds were breaking, the sun trying to shine through. She filled her lungs with fresh air. Then she blinked. Ahead of her, walking toward her, was Marc. Was it really him? She kept walking. Yep. He spotted her too and smiled.

They stopped on the sidewalk, right in front of Moretti’s. “What are you doing here?” She tipped her head to one side. “Just walking.” “Cool. You can come shopping with me. I’ll be able to carry more with you here to help.” “Sure. I can be your pack mule.” She laughed and wrinkled her nose. “Come on.” She pushed into the store and grabbed a cart, which Marc immediately took control of. She gave him a raised-eyebrow look but started toward the bakery. “Lovey!” Mr. Moretti was just

loading fresh buns into a big bin. “Hello, beautiful. Nice to see you.” “Hi, Mr. Moretti. How are you?” “Good, good.” He frowned. “Are you actually going to buy bread today?” She grinned. “I am. I’m making lasagna tonight for two big guys and I think they’ll want garlic buns.” She turned to Marc. “Marc, this is Mr. Moretti, who owns the store. Marc’s my brother’s roommate,” she added. “It’s them I’m cooking dinner for.” “Ah.” Mr. Moretti gave Marc an appraising look. “Nice to meet you, Marc.”

“Likewise.” “Here, these ciabatta are fresh,” Mr. Moretti said. “How many you want? A dozen?” “Eeek, no. Maybe…six.” They were pretty big. Mr. Moretti used a square of wax paper to lift the buns into a paper bag. “There you go. What else?” “I need all the ingredients for the lasagna. And a few of my usual things.” “Pasta is down this aisle.” He gestured. “Well, you know your way around the store. Call if you need help.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at the older man in his big white apron. “How the hell do you know him?” Marc muttered as he followed her down the aisle. “I shop here all the time.” “You’ve only been in Chicago a few weeks.” “Well, yeah.” “He was giving me the look. Like, making sure I’m good enough for you.” She laughed. “No, he wasn’t.” “He totally was.” Marc shook his head. She ignored him and chose pasta,

tomatoes, tomato paste, then headed for the dairy section to select ricotta and mozzarella cheeses. She picked up some yogurt since they were almost out. “What kind do you like?” she asked Marc. “Any kind.” “Okay. Now I need some ground beef for the meat sauce.” “Oh thank God. I was afraid this was going to be a vegetarian lasagna.” “I do make a really good vegetarian lasagna. With artichoke hearts and spinach—” Marc held up a hand. “Please. It has to have meat in it.”

Amusement curled inside her. “Fine. Lots of meat. But we’ll need a salad.” “Sure. I like salad.” They chose greens for the salad, as well as some fruit. “Okay. Done.” When they went through the checkout, Marc pulled out his wallet. Lovey frowned. “What are you doing?” “Paying for this stuff.” “You don’t have to do that.” “Why should you have to pay for all this food? You’re cooking it for us.”

“Well…” “You’re cooking for us,” he repeated, his eyes steady on hers. “The least I can do is pay for the ingredients.” “There’s some of my own stuff in there,” she said, a little breathlessly. He waved a hand. “Whatever. I can afford it.” “Yes. Yes, you can.” No argument there. Her bank account was dipping alarmingly with the money she’d paid for the apartment, but she could have paid for this herself. He handed over a credit card and paid, then picked up all the bags.

“Okay, I said you could help. You don’t need to carry everything.” “Pack mule.” His lips twitched. “Come on, I can carry a couple.” “Here.” He handed her two light bags. She shook her head, smiling, and they started walking home. “How did your meeting go?” “Okay. Good. I don’t know.” He paused. “I feel better. I think I was respectful. But somebody needs to do something. Dale’s in trouble. I can feel it.” “Have you talked to Dale?” “Yeah. I tried. I didn’t get far.” “If he needs help, then you did

the right thing.” “I hope so. We’re all responsible for how the team does. Him too. We all need to step up and hold each other accountable.” They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then Marc said, “Thanks, Lovey.” “For what?” “For making it clear to me what I needed to do.” “You’re welcome.” She didn’t think anything she’d said really made a difference. Marc was clearly a leader who looked out for not only the team as a whole but for individuals on the team. He

would’ve figured out what he needed to do sooner or later. And she didn’t even know if this was the right thing. Why a team keeps losing could be a complicated, multi-layered problem with no easy answers. But solutions start with one small move. Maybe this would be it. She hated for him to be unhappy. It made her unhappy. She much preferred it when everyone was happy. “What’s your middle name?” she asked. He turned and looked at her. “Alexandre. Why?”

“Just making conversation. I love how you say your name, with the French pronunciation. Teach me how to say it.” “Marc Alexandre Dupuis,” he said. She tried it and failed miserably. He chuckled. “Marc.” His soft “r” defeated her. She tried again. “Not bad. Alexandre.” It sounded like Alex-zondruh. So that was what she said. He was still amused. “Just soften that ‘r’ a bit.” “I can’t. Say your last name.” “Dupuis.” There was a subtle difference

between his pronunciation and the way everyone else said it. His “u” sounded a little…sharper, and the “p” sounded slightly softer. “Marc Alexandre Dupuis,” she said. He was smiling broadly at her now. “Maybe you can teach me more French.” They turned the corner onto South Prairie, nearly home. “I speak French but I don’t know if I’m a very good teacher.” “Don’t judge your teaching skills by my inability to say your name.” “You say my name just fine.”

That pleased her too. “Do you like dogs?” He gave his head a shake. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.” “Did you have one growing up?” “Yeah. We had a boxer named Julius.” “Aw! Julius. Was he cute-ugly?” Another chuckle. “Cute-ugly?” “Yeah. You know. Boxers are kind of ugly and sad-looking, but in a cute way.” He nodded, lips curved up. “Yeah, I guess he was cute-ugly.” “We—I mean my parents—have a golden retriever. His name is

Gordie. I miss him.” “Gordie? Let me guess. Gordie Howe?” “Yes! Good guess.” They exchanged smiles as Marc pulled open the door to the condominium lobby. “Would you want to own a dog?” “Yeah. But how could I right now? I can’t leave a dog for days at a time. Maybe someday. A dog needs a yard too.” “True.” In the elevator she sensed the lightness to Marc’s mood, the way his shoulders weren’t all stiff, his mouth relaxed and smiling easily at

the stupid things she said. Better. Much better. “I’ll help you with dinner,” he said inside the condo. He carried the bags into the kitchen and they put things away, leaving out some of the ingredients she’d need. “Sure. It’s nice to have company in the kitchen. I’ll put some music on.” Duncan wandered out of his bedroom and she passed him in the hall as she fetched her iPod from her room. “Hey, Dunc. You just getting up?” “Yeah.” “That’s not healthy, big brother.

Your sleep rhythms will be all messed up.” She was totally yanking his chain. He shook his head, his chestnut hair all standing on end. She got one of her playlists going through Duncan’s speaker system. First song up was “Happy” by Pharrell Williams. Perfect. She paused to listen. Her toes started tapping to the catchy rhythm, her body moving as well. She deepened her bopping and turned back to the kitchen, dancing her way across the room. When she looked up, Marc’s eyes were on her and they were hot. She almost missed a step but

determinedly kept going, dancing over to him and shimmying up near him. Yes, she was being provocative. Flirtatious. And Duncan was right there. She didn’t care. She grabbed Marc’s hand and pulled him away from the island into a more open area and started a quick, improvised jive kind of dance. To her surprise, he picked up the rhythm, took both her hands, and spun her into his arms, then out again. She grinned at him as they danced. Damn, he was a good dancer! And the song was just so bouncy. A bubble of joy swelled

inside her, up into her throat and out through her mouth in a laugh as he twirled her again. They faced each other, and just as the song ended, he spun her into him, her back to his front, his arms around her. There was a brief pause before the next song started and she looked at him up over her shoulder. His eyes gleamed. A snap and crackle passed between them, and then he released her. She laughed again, a little breathlessly, and straightened the yoga top she still wore. “What the fuck?” Duncan said,

watching them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, lighten up, Dunc, we’re just having fun. It’s a good song.” She tapped his cheek as she moved past him into the kitchen. “Never seen you dance,” Duncan said to Marc. Marc shrugged. “You’re a good dancer, Marc,” Lovey said. “We should all go out dancing sometime. I haven’t been to any dance clubs since I’ve been here.” Both guys made grunts of what could have been agreement or maybe they were non-committal, but whatever. Like the song, she

was happy.

Chapter 17 “He’s in rehab.” Marc shared the news with Lovey just over a week later. “Oh my God. Really?” Her pretty eyes went wide. “Yeah. Somewhere in California, apparently. Coach told us all in a meeting this morning. He didn’t give us a lot of details.” “Oh wow.” She shook her head. “Well, I hope Dale gets the help he needs and he’ll be back better than ever.”

“I hope so too. The guys were all kinda shook up.” “He’s an important player to the team. Enforcer.” “Yeah.” Marc’s lips twisted. “Just means we all need to step up for one another.” She nodded, her eyes warm on him. She sat on the couch with her computer on her lap and her earbuds for her iPod hanging over her shoulders now. She’d been listening to music when he came in, home from their practice. For some reason, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about getting home to tell

her the news and get her take on it. “Sorry, I’m probably interrupting your work.” “No problem. I am working, but it’s okay.” She set the laptop on the coffee table. “So. What are they doing to replace Dale?” “Calling up Ryan Kirby from Rockford.” The farm team. “Young guy, only ever played a few games in the NHL. Know him from training camp.” “Is he big?” “Yeah, but not like Dale. Not that kind of player. Faster.” “Oh.” She nodded. “Is Coach

going to move some lines around?” “Probably.” She thought about that. He liked being able to talk to her about hockey; she got it. “So…I have to go to this thing tonight…I know it’s kind of short notice, but…” Christ, he sounded like a high school kid asking a girl out for the first time. “But I was wondering if you might want to come with me.” She blinked. “What kind of thing?” “It’s at this school. It’s an innercity school for high-risk kids.” A small notch appeared between

her eyebrows. “I do some work there,” he said. “Help raise some money. They just completed a big renovation and tonight’s the open house to celebrate.” “Oh. Okay.” “It’s not fancy. It’s just a school. Some of the kids there are cool. But you don’t—” “I’d love to come. I was thinking the other day that I need to get more involved in some kind of service work. I used to volunteer at Priscilla House in Madison—they help abused women. It’s good to do stuff like that. You seem to get a lot

out of helping sick kids and it made me think that I hadn’t gotten involved with anything here yet.” “You just moved here.” “I know. But still. I didn’t know you did other stuff too.” He shrugged. “Yeah. The Aces Community Foundation supports this school, so I got involved. It’s been good.” “So, what time?” “It starts at seven.” She bit her lip. “What? Problem?” “What should I wear?” He laughed, relieved at the

simple question. “Whatever you want. I’m not dressing up that much, just dress pants and a shirt.” “Okay. That helps.” “Hey, we should go get dinner first.” “Sure. Okay. You pick a place, make a reservation if we need one. I’ll go inspect my wardrobe.” She stood. “That could take a year.” She shot him a very female look over her shoulder as she walked down the hall. He grinned, letting his eyes drop to her ass as she turned away. Nice.

The neighborhood the school was in wasn’t the greatest, but he knew a restaurant between here and there that was good. They didn’t take reservations, but it was a Tuesday night and it shouldn’t be that busy. They’d just have to leave in good time. He checked the time on his cellphone. He’d go screw around on Twitter and Instagram for a while. He tapped on Lovey’s door. “Yeah?” “We’ll leave at five.” “Okay! I’ll be ready.” He turned and entered his own room. Social media. That was

Lovey’s business. And he still hadn’t checked out her blog. Time to rectify that. He closed his bedroom door behind him and booted up the laptop on his desk. While it was starting, he took off his jeans and moved around the room in his boxers and T-shirt, putting some clothes away, straightening books. He liked things neat and orderly. Chaos and clutter bugged the shit out of him. What the hell had she said the name of her blog was? Sugar Blossom. Cute. He Googled it and made an

impressed face as it came up first in the search results. He clicked the link and found himself looking at an attractive, professional-looking blog. Definitely feminine. She had not been wrong when she said this probably wasn’t his kind of thing. But still. Rotating images on the side advertised several different products. He clicked through various pages. Yeah, he wasn’t into shoes or accessories or cupcakes, but he had to admit it all looked really good. He scrolled through comments on some blog posts…tons of comments. Holy shit.

He wanted to know more about her social media company. But she hadn’t told him the name of it. He frowned. If he Googled her name, would he get something? Couldn’t hurt to try. He typed it in. First up was the blog, but the next hit was Big Cheese Media. He lowered his chin. Seriously? He clicked. He had to poke around the site a bit, but yep, that was her. A grin spread across his face. Big Cheese Media. Jesus, she was funny. And it worked. It totally worked. Again, a professional-looking site that included her clients so far.

She could probably teach him a thing or two about social media. The team gave them some training, which was mostly “Be fucking careful what you post on the Internet.” He got that. He erred on the side of caution, posting infrequently, but it might be fun, especially some of the banter that could go back and forth between players. And not just on his team, but friends he had who played for other teams. When he’d joined Twitter he’d instantly had ten thousand followers or something like that. That was cool but also scary. He didn’t want to screw up

and say the wrong thing. He wasted some time on the Internet, but that was okay because he didn’t do it very often, then got up, stretched, and changed into black pants and a charcoal shirt. No tie. He paused at the bedroom door. What if Army was around? What was he going to tell him? He closed his eyes, sorting through options. But wait. He hadn’t heard Army come home. Unless he’d been so engrossed in Instagram that he’d missed it. He opened the door and stepped out just as Lovey opened her

bedroom door across the hall. She stepped out, and his jaw dropped. Fuck. She’d been there a few weeks and he’d seen her in jeans and yoga pants and completely naked. But he’d never seen her in a dress. It shouldn’t be so stunning. He swept her up and down with his gaze, from fiery gold hair curling back from her face, and shiny lips, to an ivory turtleneck sweater dress that hugged her, throat to knees. His gaze dropped lower, to kneehigh tan boots with a high heel. “Fuck,” he croaked. “You look great.” “Thanks.” Her smile teased him.

“So do you.” “Let’s get the hell out of here before Duncan comes home and shoots a billion questions at us.” “Good idea. Just need my coat.” He found her long camel coat in the closet and helped her into it. She thanked him with a demure smile. Then he shrugged into his own coat and grabbed his keys, and they were out. “So where are we going for dinner?” She leaned against the elevator wall, purse over her shoulder, hands in her coat pockets. He took in the visual, so fucking gorgeous.

“Chester’s. Little place on West Randolph, really good food. Shouldn’t be too busy tonight.” They ate dinner, which was awesome. He had the grilled bratwurst with mashed potatoes. Lovey took a while looking over the menu and he started to wonder if he’d made a mistake bringing here there. If she was looking for lowcarb, there weren’t many options. But she finally settled on an omelet with spinach, blue cheese, and caramelized onions. They both ordered a beer. They talked about all kinds of things over dinner—their families,

their dogs, what they missed about being a kid. It all just flowed, easy and organic. “So tell me what you do for your social media clients.” He was genuinely curious. “Well, I do a variety of things, depending on what they want. Basically, I develop a creative strategy and some engaging content, trying to build an online community for the client and cultivate a loyal customer following. People talk online about everything, so I get my clients into the conversation and make sure it’s good. Like if someone mentions

cheese on Twitter, I’ll pop in and suggest Kleinheinz cheddar or maybe link them to a recipe.” “So it’s not just Facebook posts and tweets?” “Well, it is, but there are other platforms too. Also I set up blogs and I blog for some companies. But before any of that happens, I have to know all about the company and their brand. I do a pretty intensive needs assessment, then work on a social media strategy that fits within their wider marketing goals. Then I develop a campaign that has measurable goals. It’s about focusing the message on the right

people and getting them talking.” “Wow. So your marketing background at…what was the name of the cheese place? Kleinheinz?” “Yes.” She grinned. “I had a few other marketing jobs too. None of them lasted that long.” “I like the name of your business, by the way. Big Cheese Media.” Her eyes widened. “You know the name?” “I Googled it,” he admitted, cutting into a bratwurst. “And I looked at your blog. Both are very impressive.” “Thank you.” She lowered her

chin and was briefly silent. “So your marketing background helps with this.” “Of course it does. But it’s a bit of a different skill. Content is important, of course; it has to be relevant and substantive. It has to be well written, but it also has to be fresh and engaging. It takes a unique voice and perspective to set a company apart.” Fresh and engaging. That was her. He’d recognized it in her from the minute he’d seen her in Duncan’s condo that day she’d arrived. He’d seen it in the way she charmed everyone she met, male

and female. “And I’ve also done some training. Some companies want to keep their social media implementation in-house, so I train their staff how to do it.” “See, that’s what I was thinking. I was on Twitter for a while this afternoon, but I’m always afraid I’m going to go on there and say something stupid that will make the team look bad, so I don’t do as much as I could. I have tons of followers but I don’t know if they get much out of following me.” He grimaced. “I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

Her smile was luminous. “Of course I could. That would be way cool.” She took a bite of her omelet. “How’s your beer?” she asked. “Oh hey, remember I told you about that course? Matching beer with food?” “Yeah. That sounds cool.” “It’s Thursday, December seventh. You guys are home and you don’t have a game that night. Want to come with me?” Yeah. He did. This was becoming more than just furtive sex. They were kind of on a date. And that would be another kind of date. And he had to

admit he liked it. “Sure,” he said casually. “Sounds like fun.” “Okay. I’ll sign us both up.” “We leave tomorrow on another road trip,” he said. “Not back until Monday.” “Yeah. I know. You’ll be gone for Thanksgiving.” She was aware of their schedule. He wasn’t sure what that meant. But it made him feel…something. Good. Whatever. “Oh right. I forget you Americans have a different Thanksgiving. We celebrate it in October at home.” He paused. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going home to the farm. For a few days.” She shrugged. “Better than spending Thanksgiving all alone.” Yeah, that would kind of suck for her. Jesus, he felt bad now for abandoning her on such a big holiday. But that was his life. They ate, then he drove them to the school. Many people had already arrived, and he was lucky to find a parking spot in the school lot. They walked through crisp darkness into the building. Right away he saw people he knew—Aces management, Aces Community Foundation staff, Colby

Kowalchuck from Communications, a few other players, teachers he’d met, and the principal of the school, not to mention the freakin’ mayor of Chicago. He shook hands and smiled and introduced Lovey, who at first had been shell-shocked but quickly recovered and responded to people with her own smiles and greetings. Of course, everyone assumed they were a couple. He didn’t say they were. But he didn’t say they weren’t. After some socializing and networking, they listened to speeches in the gymnasium.

“This is a very special night for us,” began Carrie Thorpe, executive director of the Aces Community Foundation. “The Foundation has been working with Fowler High School for the last five years and tonight’s grand opening is the culmination of our biggest project. We’re really excited to share this with all of you.” The chief of police spoke next, about the importance of education and how giving these students the opportunity to make their lives better was so valuable. The mayor said a few words and then the school principal, Paul Curran, spoke

about the positive results the school had achieved. “This is in no small part due to the enormous contributions of the Aces Community Foundation,” he added. “And in particular those players who give so generously not only of their money but of their time…Oleg Boyarov, Olaf Pilkvist, and Marc Dupuis. You men have made a major difference in the lives of so many at risk youth.” Marc resisted the urge to duck for cover and waved as everyone applauded. Including Lovey, right next to him, looking at him. He glanced at her and saw the warmth

in her eyes and her smile. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. Students took groups on tours and showed off the new features— the new gym, a commercial-grade kitchen, an area for aesthetics like hairdressing and manicures, and a recording studio. Marc knew some of the kids giving the tours, and the pride on their faces as they showed off their new school made his gut warm. This was what it was all about. He’d been lucky as a kid. His family wasn’t rich, but had had enough to be able to support his

hockey dreams, and he’d had a caring family who’d been strict enough to make sure he knew boundaries, yet trusting enough to let him push those boundaries. When he saw kids who didn’t have those things, who had no one to set limits for them and got out of control, who didn’t have the resources to give them opportunities, he wanted so bad to do something. Now he had the money to do that and he enjoyed giving others the chances he’d had. Lovey took in the tour with wide, interested eyes, asking questions and even joking with the teenagers.

She seemed really cool with it all and he liked that. He liked that a lot. They schmoozed with city and Aces bigwigs. When he introduced her to Mick Rooney, one of the owners of the Aces, Mick picked up on her name right away. “Armstrong?” She grinned. “Yeah. My brother plays for your team. Sometimes.” Mick laughed. “Yeah.” There were no questioning or knowing looks, just class. “It’s really good to meet you, Lovey.” Colby, the senior director of Communications for the Aces,

joined them. Lovey instantly started chatting with him about communications, since visual communications and marketing were her background. “Lovey’s going to help me with my social media stuff,” Marc told Colby and Mr. Rooney. “So I don’t screw up on Twitter.” Colby grinned. “Great idea.” This seemed to pique Mr. Rooney’s interest and he started asking Lovey more questions about her business and the clients she was acquiring. They chatted and mingled more, and then people started leaving and

Marc felt comfortable setting a hand on the small of Lovey’s back and leading her out. “That was really cool.” She leaned her head back into the headrest on their way home. “Thanks for inviting me.” “You’re welcome.” “You’re a pretty impressive guy.” His head jerked around, then looked back at the road. “Uh. Thanks.” “Seeing you like that, with all those important people, being all professional and charming…seeing all those kids who worship you, kids you obviously influence…and the

money you’ve helped raise…” She paused and gave him a pointed look. “Or probably the money you’ve simply given them…?” He shrugged. She laughed softly. “Yeah. I thought so. Anyway…all that just makes me want to jump you and fuck your brains out.” His insides gave a hot squeeze, right to his dick, and he choked on a laugh. “Uh. Thanks.” Wow. Was that what it took to turn her on? Who knew. “Can’t wait to get home,” he managed to say. Only when they walked in, Army was there.

He looked up at them with a frown. “Where were you two?” “At the grand opening of Fowler High School.” “Huh.” Duncan looked at Lovey. “You went?” “Yeah.” She kept her voice casual as she took off her coat. “I was sitting here bored so I asked if I could tag along. It was cool. Oleg and Olaf were there too.” She sat on the couch and bent to unzip the tall boots she was wearing, then pulled them off and wiggled her toes on the carpet. “Ah, this feels good. That was a lot of standing and walking in these

heels.” “Guess I’m off to bed.” Marc tried not to reveal his reluctance to go there alone. “We’re leaving early in the morning for Miami.” “Yeah, true.” Marc caught Lovey’s eyes and gave her a “sorry” look. He saw the same emotion in hers. Shit. This really sucked. “Actually, I need something to eat.” He moved to the kitchen. Dinner had been a few hours ago. He slapped together a peanut butter and banana sandwich on thick whole grain bread and poured himself a glass of chocolate milk,

while Lovey said good night and disappeared into her bedroom, carrying her boots. She was moving out in a little over a month. She’d have a place of her own. He had to admit the idea of her not being around all the time didn’t exactly appeal to him…but the idea that they could have some privacy sure as hell did. Of course, there was still the fact that Army didn’t want him touching his little sister. For a moment, Marc debated blurting out a confession to his roommate. Then sanity returned and stopped him. Army would kill him if he told him what they’d been

up to. But it was starting to feel like something was building between him and Lovey, something he didn’t want to stop. How could that happen when they had to sneak around keeping it secret? It made it feel cheap and sleazy, when it wasn’t like that at all. With that dilemma churning inside him, he drained the milk and went into his own bedroom. Alone. And he was leaving for the next five days. Dammit.

Chapter 18 Lovey made the four-hour bus trip to Madison, where her parents picked her up and drove her to the farm to celebrate Thanksgiving. Friday night they all watched the Aces game against the Tampa Bay Lightning on TV. Andrew Ross was now paired with Ryan Kirby, the guy they’d called up from the farm team. Things seemed to click for them pretty well, with each of them feeding the puck to the forwards, one of them to Marc for the much-

needed game-winning goal. Which was good. But the bad part of the game had been when some asshole from the Lightning decided that rookie Ryan Kirby needed to learn his place and had gone after him with a vicious hit into the boards from behind. Ryan had been slow to rise and the replays had shown him going facefirst into the boards. Jesus. Her insides churning, she’d watched in dismay as he’d finally made it off the ice. She didn’t even know the guy, but she hated to see something like that. The Lightning player got a penalty and the game

went on. Until the penalty was over; then the big dude was back on the ice and Marc took it on himself to send a message in return, by slamming the guy into the boards at first opportunity. The glass rattled alarmingly and the Tampa Bay player sagged. Then he spun around and dropped his gloves. Marc didn’t back down, his own mitts hitting the ice, and the two grappled and danced and threw punches. Lovey swallowed hard, sitting on the edge of the couch, watching with wide eyes. “Are you okay, Lovey?” Mom eyed her.

“Um, yeah.” Fighting never used to bother her. It was a part of the game. She’d accepted that along with every other part of the game she’d grown up with. But seeing Marc fighting…knowing how dangerous it was, or could be…shit. She did not like this. Marc wrestled the guy to the ice and took one last hard swing before the linesmen moved in to pull them apart and put an end to the fight. Meanwhile, a couple of other small skirmishes had broken out as players came to the aid of their teammates, one of them Duncan wrestling with some guy who’d

tried to grab Marc. Lovey closed her eyes and did some deep breathing. Finally everyone was separated, gloves and sticks were picked up and returned to their owners, and the refs were working out all the penalties. “That’ll get him five minutes in the sin bin,” Dad said. Mom was still watching Lovey with a funny look on her face. Yeah, Marc ended up with five for fighting. But as the team played with renewed energy, she knew why he’d done it. Five minutes in the box was a small price to pay for getting his team fired up, defending

one another, especially the new guy, and backing one another up. She returned to Chicago on Saturday. Duncan’s cleaning lady had come last week, but Lovey cleaned out the fridge, where some nasty leftovers had accumulated at the back, and set the oven to selfclean. Although calling it selfcleaning was a misnomer, in her opinion. When she’d moved out on her own, she’d thought that meant she didn’t have to do anything, and had been disappointed to know she still had to get down on her hands and knees and stick her head inside to wipe down the ashy residue that

remained. But it had to be done. She spent the rest of the day working. Sunday, she went to yoga class and had lunch with a girl she’d gotten to know there, and that evening went out for dinner with Jillian, Leigh, and Dior, although she kept checking the score of the game on her phone. The guys got back early Monday morning, as in one o’clock in the morning, and they were in bed asleep when she got up. She cast one longing look at Marc’s door as she passed by. Their sex had gotten more

frequent, occurring pretty much any time Duncan was out of the apartment and they weren’t. Sometimes it was fast and furtive because he was coming back; other times they had hours to play, then laze around in bed and snuggle and talk. But Marc had been gone five days and before that it had been… Saturday. More than a week. She sighed. She had a meeting that morning with one of her new Chicago clients to talk about the campaign she’d developed for them, so she dressed in a suit and heels. It was fun

dressing up for a change. Working from home was great, and pajamas and yoga pants were comfy, but it was still nice to wear something pretty and look professional. She felt like a real businessperson as she headed out, leaving the guys sleeping in the quiet condo. The meeting went well. They were impressed with her plans, discussing a few minor points. She stopped for a sandwich for lunch at one of the fast food places in Water Tower Place, then rewarded herself for her hard work lately by wandering through some of the

shops in the mall. A big sale at Macy’s was very tempting. She found herself in the lingerie department, fingering pretty lace bras. Marc would like this one. He liked her underwear. A pressing desire to show him something new and sexy rose inside her and she picked up the black lace bra in her size to try on. Half an hour later, she left the store with not only the bra but the matching panties and a nightie in apricot silk trimmed with heavy ivory lace. She would love to wear that for Marc…somehow she would

make it happen. Maybe she could sneak into his room one night after Duncan was asleep. She wished Marc would sneak into her room…how many nights had she lain there in her bed, wishing for him to appear, trying to reach out to him with the force of her thoughts and will him to come quietly into her room and slide into bed with her. It hadn’t happened. But she could make it happen. Maybe. If she had the guts. Oh hell. She was tired of this. Duncan needed to adjust to the fact that she was an adult woman who

could sleep with whoever she wanted. But again, the only thing that kept her from just telling him was his relationship with Marc. When she got home, they were both awake. Marc was mixing up a protein shake and Duncan was sprawled on the couch in a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a wrinkled T-shirt. Marc had dressed in loose black athletic pants that sat low on his hips, and a snug white Tshirt that hugged every gorgeous muscle of his upper body. She wanted to rush him and hug him and kiss him all over and make

sure he was okay after that brutal game Friday night. Instead she dropped her shopping bag on the island, set her briefcase and purse on the floor, and casually said, “You’re home. Congrats on the two wins.” Marc turned to look at her. Ack. He had a bandage on his cheekbone. Her stomach clenched at the thought of him being hurt. Bruising was blooming around the small white plaster. She sucked briefly on her bottom lip to control her emotions. He met her eyes and gave a faint smile. “Thanks.” As he picked up his shake, she

took in the cut and bruising on his hand. Her bottom lip started to push out and she sucked it back in. “Your hand.” “It’s okay.” He gave a rueful smile. “Should know better than to punch a bucket.” She had so much she wanted to say to him, questions to ask about how things had gone, the new line, how the team was feeling with Dale gone, how Marc was doing…but it was all weird with Duncan there. “Shopping?” Duncan called from the couch. “Would it be too much to hope that you went shopping after a job interview? Christ, Lovey. You

need to get your shit together.” She snapped her head around to glare at him. “My shit is together.” Duncan swung his legs off the couch. “You still don’t have a job. How the hell do you think you’re going to pay the rent of that apartment you signed a lease on? Which you move into in just over a month, by the way.” “I know that,” she snapped. “How I pay my rent is my business, by the way.” She snatched up her stuff and stalked into her bedroom. Shit. Frustration about seeing Marc again and not being able to do

and say the things she wanted to, and then Duncan’s annoying comments on top of all that made a hot pressure rise inside her. She threw her stuff on the bed, then closed her eyes and tipped her head back. She had to tell Duncan about her business. She couldn’t say anything about Marc, but she could at least get her brother off her back about finding a job. She still had her coat on, so she shed it and left it on the bed. Without changing out of her suit and high-heeled boots, she returned to the open area of the kitchen and

living room. She caught Marc’s eye as she approached, reading the concern there. She gave him a crooked smile but turned to focus on Duncan. She sat on an armchair. He gave her a lifted eyebrow. “I didn’t have a job interview.” She waved a hand in a downward motion in front of her, ignoring his frustrated grunt. “I’m dressed like this because I had a client meeting. I’ve started my own business.” Duncan looked at her, then let his head drop to the back of the couch. “Oh my God. What kind of business?”

“Well, there are two things I’m doing. One is my blog.” His head snapped up, mouth hanging open. “A blog?” Incredulity sharpened his tone. “A blog?” “Yes. I—” “You can’t make money from a blog,” he snapped. “Yes, I—” “Lovey, come on, get real. You need—” “Hey,” Marc said in a quiet but firm voice, standing beside Lovey’s chair. “You need to give her a chance to tell you what she’s doing. Shut up and listen, man.”

Lovey’s eyes bugged out as she turned to look at Marc, even though she was grateful for his support. Duncan frowned. He shot Marc a puzzled look, then turned his gaze back to Lovey. “Fine. Talk.” She curled her fingers together and sent another quick look of gratitude to Marc. “I do make money from my blog.” She explained what she was doing there and then told him about Big Cheese Media. “I have clients. I was meeting with one of them today to go over the campaign I’ve developed for them. They really like it. I have more things in the works.”

Duncan just stared at her as she talked and she knew it was hard for him to stop himself from jumping in. But Marc stood there, arms folded across his chest, the muscles of his big biceps and chest distractingly emphasized by the snug T-shirt. Duncan rubbed his face. “Okay,” he said. “That sounds…promising.” She leaned forward. “I didn’t want to tell you until I knew I was going to make this work. I think it’s going really well, but…there are no guarantees. I know the risks of starting my own business. But it’s what I want to do.”

He now scratched the back of his head. “I thought you quit your job because you broke up with Richard.” She sensed the tension immediately coming from Marc’s body beside her, without even looking at him. “I did,” she said. “But it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do what I really wanted to do. Since I had to make a change anyway.” He nodded slowly. “Okay. But…” Her lips tightened. “This is why I didn’t tell you. You’re going to be all ‘Oh, Lovey, you don’t know how to run a business. You’ll never make

enough money to live off.’ ” “I wasn’t going to say that.” But his eyes didn’t meet hers and she knew that was what he was thinking. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll figure out something else. I’m not worried about getting a job if I have to. I’m good at what I do.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not a mega-superstar pro athlete, and I’ll never make millions of dollars, but I’m good at this.” More waves of something powered off Marc. She risked a look up at him and saw the warmth in his eyes and the twitch of his lips. “Okay,” Duncan said. “So…all the

time you’re on Facebook and Twitter and I thought you were just screwing around…you were really working.” “Yes. Well, most of the time.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I do have to spend some personal time on Facebook. And hey, I’m going to give Marc some social media training. So he can optimize his own platform and social media presence.” “What the fuck?” Duncan stared at Marc. “Seriously?” “Sure.” Marc grinned. “Don’t worry, man, I’m going to pay her.” He looked down at her. “Whatever

the going rate is for the training you do.” She smiled back at him. “I’m expensive. But worth it.” “I’m sure you are.” Oops. That was kind of suggestive and not really appropriate for a conversation in front of Duncan. He didn’t seem to pick up on it, though, still freaking out about her starting her own business. But he was calming down and pondering it. So that was good. “Okay.” She rose to her feet. “I need to change out of this suit. And I have work to do, you’ll be happy to know, Dunc. See you guys later.”

She paused. “What are you doing for dinner tonight? Want me to make something?” “I’m going out,” Duncan said. She paused, willing herself not to make eye contact with Marc. “Another date?” “Yeah, as a matter of fact. She’s a model.” Lovey frowned. “A model? Seriously?” Duncan’s ears turned red. “What’s wrong with that?” “She’s probably a puck bunny.” Not another model. Why did he keep dating these women? Sure,

they were gorgeous, but damn, they were totally using him. At least she thought they were. Or maybe as his sister, she just didn’t get why they’d want to date Duncan. “But whatever. It’s your life. There. You see what I did there? You live your life. I’ll live mine. And we’ll support each other’s decisions even though we don’t always agree on them. Right?” He rolled his eyes but smiled. “Shut up.” “I’m not going out,” Marc put in. “But you don’t need to make anything. We could order pizza or something.”

“Sure. Sounds good.” Keep it light. Keep it casual. As soon as Duncan was out that door, she would be all over Marc. Oooh. Time to put on the new lingerie. Later, when she’d finished working, she emerged from her room, the black lacy bra and thong panties beneath her low-rise skinny jeans and a blue cotton sweater with a scoop neck, shorter at the front than the back, the sleeves pushed up on her arms. Duncan was ready to go out in a pair of jeans and boots, a plaid shirt, and an Aces baseball cap, standing at the island, where Marc leaned with

a beer in his hand. “I need to do something so he can get to know everyone,” Marc was saying. “Not sure what.” “No,” Lovey said to Duncan, taking in his outfit. “No, no, no. You’re not going out with a model dressed like that.” “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” “Lose the ball cap,” she muttered. “And don’t you have some better jeans? Maybe something in a dark wash? That at least would look a little dressier.” “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe I do. Really?” He looked down at

himself. “I need to change?” “Dark jeans,” she repeated. “And those cowboy boots are expensive but kind of beat up. Maybe you need new ones.” Duncan grumbled but headed down the hall. She met Marc’s eyes, gleaming with amusement. “Bossy,” he murmured. “What was that about letting him live his life?” She bit her lip. “Um. Right. I’m only trying to help! He wants to make a good impression on a date, right?” “I don’t think he gives a shit. He just wants to get laid.”

“Oh. Ew. Jeez. Whatever.” She paused. “What were you talking about? What do you need to do?” “Ryan. Our new D man.” “He and Andrew seemed to play well together.” “Yeah. Anyway, he doesn’t know any of us very well. Got called up and sent on the road trip, which was good, but I need to do something so he can feel more comfortable with everyone. Actually…” He rubbed his jaw. “It would be good for Rosser to get to know everyone better too. He’s only been with us since training camp.” “We can have a party.”

Marc blinked at her. “What?” “We’ll have a party,” she repeated. “Here. Duncan has tons of room. You don’t mind—right, Dunc?” She looked at her brother as he returned in a different pair of jeans. “That’s better.” She nodded approvingly at his choice of denim. “But you should still shave that beard off.” “Don’t mind what?” “A party. To help Ryan get to know everyone. We’ll invite the whole team and the wives and girlfriends.” She knew the wives and girlfriends of the team players, also

known as the Aces Ladies, did work as a group with the Aces Community Foundation and organized some social events, but she also knew that as team captain, Marc felt responsible for bringing the team together. He needed a wife. Whoa. She shoved that thought quickly away. Not touching that one. No way. “I don’t mind.” Duncan shrugged. “I’m not much of a party planner. Case of beer and a big bag of chips is the extent of my entertaining skills.”

“I know.” She sighed. “That’s why I’ll do the preparation. It doesn’t have to be fancy, though. I know! We can play that game I got! Cards Against Humanity. It’ll be hilarious and a good way to get everyone interacting.” “How about Sunday night?” Duncan said. “Awesome. You guys invite everyone, I’ll do the work.” “You don’t have to do it all, Lovey,” Marc objected. “We’ll help.” “Speak for yourself,” Duncan muttered. “I’m outta here. See you later.” They watched him leave. The

door closed. They gave it one…two… three seconds. And she was in his arms, his mouth hard and warm on hers. She pressed up against him with urgent, desperate need, threading her fingers through his hair, opening her mouth to him. “Forget pizza,” Marc gasped. “Just want to fuck you.” “Oh God, me too. Do it.” Once again he hoisted her up, hands on her ass, and carried her down the hall.

Chapter 19 As often happened, the sex was fast and hard and dirty. Marc was hot for Lovey and she seemed to feel the same, her hands everywhere, sexy little whimpers of need slipping from her lips. They rolled around on his bed fully clothed for a while, making out with heated need, then hands burrowing beneath clothes to find skin. “Missed you,” she panted. “All week. Too long…” “Yeah. Me too.” He licked her

lips, nipped at her bottom one. “Want you so bad, Lovey.” Her name felt like an endearment. He liked it. A lot. “Want you too. God, so much.” When he pulled off the sweater she wore, revealing her black lace bra, he went still. “Wow,” he choked out. “That is hot.” “Thank you. I just bought it today. I was rewarding myself for how hard I’ve been working.” “I think you’re rewarding me,” he said with heartfelt appreciation. “Let’s see…” He undid her jeans and peeled them down her thighs. “Yes. Matching panties. Sweet.” He got

rid of the jeans, leaving her in underwear and thick socks. “These have to go.” He tugged off one. “They don’t work with the sexy undies.” She giggled and lifted her other foot for him to remove its sock. Then he came down over her again to kiss her. She planted a foot into the bed and rolled him to his back. Her on top was nice. His hands went to her ass, basically bare in that tiny thong. He pulled her up higher so her breasts were in his face and flicked open the fastener at her back. “I feel you should spend more

time in the new bra,” he said. “Sorry.” She gave a breathy laugh. “It’s okay. I had a feeling it wouldn’t stay on long.” He nuzzled her bare breasts, licked them, then took a nipple into his mouth and sucked fiercely. She groaned. He played with her tits for a while, enjoying tight little nipples and soft flesh, then she drew back and started kissing her way down his torso, over his chest, pausing to briefly suck one nipple, then the other into her mouth, giving him a hard jolt of heat straight to his

groin. She licked over his abs, pressed kisses to his belly beneath his navel, then to the hair at his groin. She rubbed her face over his thighs, drew her tongue up the crease where thigh met torso, teasing him as his dick throbbed unbearably. Finally she shifted and circled him with soft fingers, lifting him to her mouth and kissing the soft tip. His cock jerked, his abs tightened. His hands sought out her hair and tangled in it, holding it back from her face so he could watch her suck him. Fuck, that was good, so unbelievably good. She licked and

got him all wet, then took him into the silky heat of her mouth. The friction of her lips sliding up and down over his shaft was sublime. Her fingers cupped his balls, caressing, gently squeezing, and damn, that edge of orgasm was right there, right…there…He fought for control. “No…babe…can’t last… wanna fuck you…” She gave a brief, wordless shake of her head, her mouth full of him, kept moving on him, and when her fingers delved deeper behind his balls into ultrasensitive territory, he was lost. He gave up. There was no way to stop it at that point, so he

held on to her head and roared as pleasure exploded from his core, white heat shooting through his dick and into her mouth. Her beautiful, hot, sexy mouth, working him like he’d never been worked before. Taking it all and swallowing and making little pleasure noises that he absolutely fucking loved. Crouched there between his thighs, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, her tongue stroking his dick in her hand. Their eyes met with a sizzle. Câlisse, that was hot. His entire body still pulsed with satisfaction.

He gentled his hands in her hair, letting strands slide through his fingers, then dragging his fingers through her hair again. And again. Watching her pretty mouth on his dick, then smiling at him, the sexiest, most seductive smile he’d ever seen. “C’mere.” He knifed up to reach for her and hauled her over him. She stretched along his body, rubbing herself on him, kissing his chin, his jaw, his ear. “Babe. Fucking loved that.” “Good. I loved it too.” And that was just about the hottest thing of all, the obvious

pleasure she took in it, so eager and turned on by it. He rolled her under him. He needed a few minutes, but while he recovered he could give her an orgasm in return. Not a hardship. He loved that sweet pussy. It didn’t take long to get her off, she was so ready. So wet and hot. After stripping the lace panties, he filled his mouth with her, with her taste, the feel of her on his tongue and lips, and brought her up and over, making her twist and shudder as he held her ass in his hands and lifted her pussy to his hungry mouth.

“Oh God,” she gasped, limp. “Oh God. Marc.” “Yeah, Lovey. Right here.” They curled up together. He was still dying to fuck her, but that had taken the edge off. Perfect. Now they could spend the rest of the night leisurely exploring each other. Much later, with her in his arms, he kissed her hair. “I’m glad you told Duncan about your business.” “Yeah.” She sighed. “I figured it was time. I don’t think he’s entirely convinced I know what I’m doing, though.” “He will be. Just wait.”

She tipped her head to meet his eyes. “Thanks for backing me up with him.” He shrugged. “Just wanted him to at least listen to you.” She kissed his jaw. “I appreciate it.” Truthfully, Duncan’s attitude had annoyed him. She deserved a chance to do what she wanted with her life. She wasn’t asking him for anything other than a place to stay for a couple months. “Also you looked hot in that suit,” he added. “Very sexy and professional.” “Hmm. I was going for

professional…not sure if sexy is the look I want in the business world.” “You can’t help it, baby. You just are.” “Aw. Thank you.” She touched his cheek. “Is your face okay?” “Yeah. It’ll heal.” “Did you get hurt anywhere else? I was worried for you, watching that fight.” “Got some bruised ribs too.” He’d felt that a few times during their energetic fucking, but she was a powerful distraction. “You watched the game?” “Of course.”

“Huh.” “I guess I should get back to my own room.” Heaviness descended onto his chest. “Yeah. I guess so.” “You know what would be really sexy?” “What?” She hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure she should say it. “Sleeping all night with you. Waking up with you.” That heavy sensation intensified. “Yeah. That would be…sexy.” She gave him a fast kiss on the mouth, then rolled away. She

scooped up her clothing. He rose on an elbow to watch her. “I’m gonna dash,” she said. “Too much trouble to get all dressed again.” “Duncan’s not home.” “I know. Just don’t want him walking in right as I run across the hall naked.” He grinned, even though he agreed that would a very bad thing. “Night, Marc.” She slipped out his door and closed it behind her. He flopped to his back. Fuck, he hated it when she left like that. Sleeping with her all night and

waking up together in the morning wouldn’t just be sexy, it would be… awesome. He wanted that too, wanted her in his bed all damn night, not sneaking out like what they had was cheap and dirty. Well, it could be dirty. He was a fan of dirty. But not in a way that made them feel dirty. He remembered her telling Duncan about her business. It stung him a little, thinking about her growing up in Duncan’s shadow, how she’d said everyone knew he was destined for something great and she…wasn’t. But she was finding her way in the

world, and he admired her for that. He admired her for the person she’d turned out to be, despite growing up in that shadow. She was smart and funny, bubbly and bright. She made friends with everyone she met and cried watching chick flicks. Jesus. He was getting in way deeper than was supposed to happen. But Lovey seemed to like him too…not just having sex, although that was phenomenal, but hanging out with him, doing not much of anything. He liked talking to her and she seemed to enjoy it too. So maybe all they needed was time.

And her brother’s blessing. Shit. How the hell was that going to happen? He’d think about that some other time. Right now he needed sleep. — Lovey didn’t come to the Saturday night game as she sometimes had when they played at home. Marc had thought about suggesting she could join the Aces Ladies—the wives and girlfriends of the players. The team provided a private lounge for them and they all had seats together to watch the game. But

Lovey wasn’t his girlfriend. She was Duncan’s sister. So he said nothing. They pulled out another win, and the atmosphere in the dressing room and on the bench was changing. There was more laughter, but also more intensity. More confidence. Dale being sent away to rehab had shaken everyone up. After that last game Dale had played, everyone had been pissed at him. He’d made so many mistakes, and the guys had been frustrated and angry, grumbling and sniping at Dale and then yelling at one another as tension grew. That was gone now, and it was a relief.

Marc wanted the best for Dale, and hoped the guy hadn’t ruined his entire NHL career. But he also wanted the best for the team and things were looking up. After the game, a few guys went out, but since they were all coming over to his and Army’s place the next night, Marc didn’t go with them. Unfortunately, Lovey wasn’t home when he got there. Damn. Where was she? Hopefully out with her new friends and not on a fucking date. That thought made his gut cramp. He went to pour himself a glass of chocolate milk and took in all the

food in the fridge. She’d been out shopping, apparently in preparation for the party. He’d told her they’d pay for that stuff. He shook his head before heading to his room. Alone. They had Sunday off, so he slept in a little. He needed to find out from Lovey what else needed to be done. Maybe there were still some things to purchase. She was already awake and dressed in her yoga gear when he got up. Right. Yoga class. “Hey.” She beamed her luminous smile at him, making him want to grab her and kiss her. “Good game last night.”

He squinted. “You saw it?” “Parts of it. The bar we were at had it on.” “We?” Fuck. He hated himself for asking. “Jillian and Leigh and I. We went out for dinner and drinks.” “Ah. Cool.” She hopped onto a stool and started spooning yogurt into her mouth. “I see you bought some stuff for the party. I told you we’d pay for it.” “You can pay me back, don’t worry. There are more things we need, but I couldn’t carry it all

yesterday.” “You should’ve waited until today. I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.” “Thank you.” Her eyes warmed. “I wanted to get started making some of the stuff yesterday. There are going to be a lot of people here. We can go when I get home from yoga class.” She moved around the kitchen, the snug black pants hugging her ass and thighs, the fitted tank top outlining her breasts and slender waist. She reached for a black zipup jacket and pushed her arms into it. “Back in a bit.”

He went to the gym and worked out while she was at yoga, and got home just after her. He was looking forward to driving her to do whatever errands needed to be done. Until Duncan said he’d come too. Damn. Ah well. Lovey seemed to be winging it, grabbing stuff she hadn’t thought of, pausing to try to remember something she’d forgotten. “Should’ve made a note to myself,” she muttered, then her face cleared. “Samosas. I wish I could make everything, but there’s no way. So we’ll have to buy some things we can heat up and serve.”

She was so into this, it was cute. “Don’t knock yourself out. Most of the guys are happy with beer and pretzels.” She snorted delicately. “I’ve seen you guys eat. We’re gonna need food. Lots of it.” Once home, she jumped into action, slicing, dicing, arranging bowls and platters. She had Duncan and him setting up a bar in the living room with all the booze they’d bought. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and he found himself looking forward to the evening. “I have to go get ready now,” she said a while later. “Could one of you

put the beer into that big bucket with one of the bags of ice?” “Sure.” Marc moved to do it as she disappeared. “Still think beer and bags of chips would be easier,” Army muttered. “Yeah. But even though she’s going all out, it doesn’t seem… overdone.” “True.” Army made a face. “There are times it’s handy to have a sister, I guess.” Marc looked down at himself. “Guess I’ll change too.” The old gray T-shirt he wore had some kind of food stain on it now, and a big wet spot from the bag of ice. He headed

to his room and put on clean jeans and a button-down shirt. He left it untucked and turned the cuffs back on his forearms as he walked down the hall. Guests started arriving before Lovey had emerged from her bedroom, so he and Army started letting people in and greeting them, offering drinks. Then she breezed out, all pretty in a pair of sexy flared jeans with a snug black long-sleeve tee tucked into them and a multicolored scarf that looped around her neck. She knew a lot of the players but not all, and hadn’t met many wives and girlfriends. As

usual, within an hour they were all her new best friends. “Let me take those out.” Marc took some bowls from her. “Come on! Chips? You’re serving chips?” She grinned. “Sure. You have to have chips at a party. Among other things.” Everything was finger food, which was great, and she’d organized paper plates and serviettes, all black and white to match this game they were supposedly going to play. Or some of them were going to play anyway. He made sure Ryan was meeting people and noticed Lovey talking to

him at one point, asking him questions about where he was from and where he’d played hockey up till then. The look in Ryan’s eyes was…interested. This did not amuse Marc. Jesus. Where the hell was Army now? He’d warned everyone else off his sister, he needed to get on this so the rookie knew too. Lovey caught his eye, lifted her eyebrows, and he realized he’d been scowling. He turned away. Lovey got the game organized and explained things to those who had never played. “I’m not being the Card Czar

first,” she said firmly. “Someone else has to do that. Duncan.” “Uh. Sure.” He read a black card. “Next on ESPN2. The world series of…?” Everyone searched through their cards. Then the fun started. Of course the guys tried to come up with the most obnoxious answers they could, and with everyone well lubricated, it all seemed uproariously funny. “Pictures of boobs.” “Justin Bieber.” “Erectile dysfunction.” “Fingering.” That got a huge roar

of laughter and ended up the winner. The answers got raunchier and they all laughed harder. Marc’s face hurt from laughing and he sat back for a minute to watch. It had been a long time since the team had all gotten together like this—most of the team anyway, since a few guys hadn’t been able to come—and just had fun in a relaxed social setting. After the game ended, people sat in smaller groups, talking, Lovey flitting around carrying away empty bowls and platters, setting out new ones with cookies. She offered coffee and served it, and then folks

started leaving. Not a wild and crazy late night, but it was Sunday and they had a practice in the morning, and everyone seemed really mellow and content. “I’d call that a success,” Marc said when it was finally just him and Lovey and Army. Lovey yawned and surveyed the full dishwasher. “I’ll run another load tomorrow.” “You go to bed,” he said. “I’ll finish cleaning up in here.” “Thank you. I think it was a good night.” “It was great, Lovey,” Army said. “Thank you.”

She smiled and turned away, then paused. She pointed at Army. “You. Help Marc clean up.” He rolled his eyes at her. Marc grinned. “Yeah, man. Help out a little.” “I am, I am.” Marc had to grin. Army knew he couldn’t stand a mess, and may have left cleaning up to him a time or two. The fact that Lovey got it made him smile. He wanted to tell her how amazing she was, how much he appreciated what she’d done, but with Army standing right there, no way. But he’d have his chance. He’d

make sure of it.

Chapter 20 Duncan and Marc left Monday for a Tuesday night game in Detroit, then came back Wednesday. It was a heartbreaking loss in a shoot-out in overtime, but the Aces had played really well. They had to be happy with that, but losing was never fun. Watching the game, Lovey knew Marc would not be satisfied. She spent Wednesday afternoon out looking for topics for her blog, taking photographs, and exploring. Then it started to snow and she

headed back to the condo. When she got home, Marc and Duncan were there. The music of Van Halen blasted on Duncan’s stereo system. Marc stood in front of the washing machine loading clothes into it. As usual, their eye contact was loaded and hot as they greeted each other casually. “So.” She climbed onto a stool at the kitchen island. “You guys played great.” “We lost.” “I know. You have to be positive though, right? You did some good things. You’re back on track.” “You’re right. Have to focus on

the positive. There has been a big change in the dressing room. What were you up to?” She told him what she’d been doing. Duncan came and poured himself a glass of milk. She took in his dark pants and dress shirt. “What’s up with the fancy clothes?” “Going out.” “With the model again?” She leaned in. “Yeah.” “Whoa. Two dates with the same girl. This is serious!” “Eh.” Duncan lifted his chin at Marc. “What’s with you? You

haven’t had a date in weeks.” Marc and Lovey’s eyes met with a little jolt of electricity, but they both looked away immediately. It was true. He hadn’t been out with anyone else. Possibly because they’d been banging their brains out with each other every chance they got. What would she do if he went out with someone else? They were just having casual, convenient sex. Well, sometimes it wasn’t at their convenience, it was more dependent on Duncan’s social life. But still. She found she didn’t really like

the idea of Marc seeing someone else. “Dry spell.” Marc gave a cocky grin. “Also I’m very focused right now on my career. Unlike some people.” “Fuck off, I’m focused. I’m allowed to have a social life.” Marc grinned and Lovey knew he was just yanking Duncan’s chain. Especially after Duncan had totally deflected attention from his sex life to Marc’s. Or Marc’s lack of sex. Which she and Marc both knew wasn’t exactly the case. Damn. She sighed. Then she regrouped. The positive

was, Duncan was going out. Which meant while he was out boinking some model, she and Marc could have their own hot, sweaty boinking session. Yay. She lifted her gaze to Marc, and once again, the connection snapped between them. Yup. He was thinking the same thing she was. “We’re going for dinner at The Cellar.” Duncan finished his milk and set the glass on the counter. “Put it in the dishwasher.” Lovey nodded. He grumbled but did so. “It must be a swank place for you to ditch the jeans and baseball cap,”

Lovey said. “You look nice, by the way. Other than the beard.” “Uh. Thanks. Okay, I’m outta here. Stay out of trouble, kids.” Now Marc rolled his eyes. Lovey laughed. When the door closed behind him, she looked at Marc. “If he only knew.” He didn’t smile at her teasing comment. “This is getting kind of old.” “What is?” “Sneaking around behind his back.” She sighed. “Yeah. I hear you. But

what can we do?” “He hasn’t actually said anything for a while. As in, warning me off. And at the party Sunday night, I was waiting for him to say something to Ryan when he was flirting with you.” “He was not flirting with me!” “Oh, hell yeah, he was.” “He’s twenty-two years old!” “Big whoop. Two years younger than you.” She eyed him. “Were you jealous?” “No.” He broke eye contact and spoke to the floor. “I was just

waiting for Duncan to go all protective big brother on his ass. It didn’t happen.” He crossed his arms and looked at her again. “Maybe he’s accepting that you’re all grown up.” “You think?” She considered it. “Nah. But what are we talking about him for?” She hopped off the stool and sauntered over to him. “He’s gone. And you know what that means…the mouse is gone, the cats can play.” He burst out laughing but reached for her hips. “I think we’re the mice, not the cats. Comme on dit en français—le chat parti, les

souris dansent.” “Oooh.” She ran her hands up his chest. “That sounds so sexy.” “Talking about cats and mice. Not really sexy.” “Still. It sounds sexy. I want you to take me to bed and talk dirty to me in French. Say something else.” “Les chats me font éternuer.” “Oooh. I like it. More.” His lips twitched. “Mon camion a un pneu à plat.” “Yes, please,” she breathed, although she had no idea what he’d just said. He bent and slid an arm behind her legs and picked her up.

She grabbed his shoulders, which were shaking with laughter. “What did you say?” She narrowed her eyes. “Which?” “Both.” He carried her to his room. “First I said cats make me sneeze. Then I said my truck has a flat tire.” “Oh shoo.” She smacked his shoulder but had to laugh too. In the bedroom he lowered her feet to the floor, wincing. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. Just a few sore muscles. A few hard hits into the

boards last night.” “Oh.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and biceps. “Where does it hurt?” “Everywhere.” “I know what you need. A massage.” “I had a massage.” He paused. “Wait, are you offering?” “Um, yeah.” He grinned. “Okay, that was stupid, wasn’t it? I’m going to turn down a massage from you? I don’t think so.” “I have a massage bar.” She whirled around. “Be right back.”

She went into her room and retrieved the wrapped bar that melted easily on warm skin. “It’s edible,” she shared, unwrapping it to show him. “Don’t even tell me why you have that,” he muttered, pulling his Tshirt over his head. “Don’t wanna know.” She smiled. “Okay.” Let him worry about that. “All your clothes off, and then lie on your stomach on the bed.” “Are you going to be naked too?” “Do you want me to be?” “Fuck yeah.”

“Okay.” She undressed too. She watched him grab a condom from the drawer before he lay down. “Ha. This is a massage. Getting a bit ahead of yourself with the condom there, hockey boy.” He smirked. “If you say so. Toujours prêt!” “And what does that mean?” She climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips. “It’s the Boy Scout motto. Toujours prêt!” “Be prepared. Ah. I get it.” She rubbed the bar over his shoulders and upper back. “Were you seriously a Boy Scout?”

“Sure. For a while. Then hockey started taking too much time.” She began kneading big, tight muscles, finding tight spots and digging her fingers in. “Câlisse,” he said and groaned. “That feels good.” She smiled and kept massaging, working over each arm all the way to his hands, then down his back. Her hands were starting to get tired but she wasn’t quite finished yet. She rubbed his lower back, then shifted down his thighs to squeeze his ass. She sighed with pleasure. “Your ass is really nice.” He groaned into the pillow

beneath his head. “You’re killing me, Lovey.” She massaged there too, big, taut, powerful muscles. She started to wriggle because she was getting turned on. “Want me to do your front?” He lifted his head. “I don’t know if that’s going to work. I’m hard as a fucking goal post.” “I can massage that too.” He made a choked sound but rolled over. Yep. His erection was thick and stiff and so beautiful. She licked her lips and rubbed the massage bar over his pecs, starting there, but that massive erection was

distracting and in her way. She rubbed his chest, bringing forth more groans, caressed his abs, and then, her hands slick, wrapped them both around his cock. “Tabernak. So good.” His eyes were closed, his body relaxed, everywhere except that hard column of flesh in her hands. When she bent to lick him, he jerked. “Remember?” she murmured. “Edible.” The massage bar tasted of coconut and she licked him all over, then took him into her mouth. He felt so good, hot and pulsing, thick and weighty on her tongue. She used her hands and her mouth,

playing with him, getting lost in it a bit, until he pulled her off. “Inside you,” he growled. “Now.” He grabbed the condom he’d so cockily left near them on the bed. She was wet and ready for that, so she went up onto her knees and straddled him, taking him in her hand again to direct the head of his cock to her opening. Her aching opening. She needed him too, filling her. She lowered herself slowly, carefully, because he was big, watching his face. His eyes burned with need. His hands clasped her hips, lifting

her, lowering her, helping her move on him. Fire spread through her body. He reached for her breasts and cupped them. He pinched her nipples and sensation flowed through her down to where they were joined. Her body picked up the feeling, buzzing, a growing tightness that she reached for and focused on. She closed her eyes, Marc’s hands caressing her, and slipped a hand down to her clit to find the sensitive bud. Oh wow, she was winding up already, excitement building and twisting inside her. Her pussy flexed and clenched and then it all peaked. Ripples of

pleasure flowed out from her core. She fell down to lay on top of him, gasping for breath, and his hands went to her ass and grabbed her as he fucked up into her with hard, burning strokes. She panted against the side of his neck, pleasure still coursing through her veins. “Fuck me, Lovey, gonna come… fuck yeah…” He grunted his pleasure as his body tightened, hands on her butt holding her tight against him as he pulsed inside her. It was sweaty and messy, their bodies sliding together in a mix of perspiration and massage oil, and it

was beautiful. So beautiful. He wrapped his arms tightly around her upper body, holding her in a fierce hug that made her throat thicken. God, she loved being with this man. “So that was a pretty good massage,” she murmured. His body vibrated with laughter. “Better than the one I had from Cal.” He named one of the Aces trainers. “I think it was the happy ending.” She smiled. “Cal doesn’t give happy ending massages?” “Fuck no.”

“Well, good.” She stretched her burning thighs out along his. “Ah.” “I’m hungry.” She considered that. “Me too. What do you feel like?” “You cooking?” “No.” His arms tightened on her briefly. “Let’s order pizza.” “Sounds good. Let’s eat it in bed.” “Even better idea.” They rolled apart, and he got rid of the condom and grabbed his cellphone from the dresser, where it had been charging. In a few minutes, an extra large Luciano’s

special had been ordered and queued for delivery. Lovey decided the new bra and panties needed more attention, and put them back on. Marc grabbed his athletic pants so he was decent when the delivery driver arrived. They lounged in bed with Marc’s TV on. He played with her hair while they watched news and talked about all kinds of things. After they’d eaten the pizza, Lovey said, “Okay, hockey boy. Now it’s my turn.” He lifted a brow. “Your turn for what?” “A massage.”

“Oh.” His smile went wicked. “Okay, then. Take off the pretty lingerie so we don’t mess it up.” She complied and stretched out on her stomach as he had. “Remember,” she mumbled. “It’s edible.” “Uh-huh.” “You can put it anywhere,” she added. His laugh rumbled out of him. He began to rub the bar over her skin. “This is pretty cool. It just melts right away.” “Yeah.” “Smells good too.”

“And it tastes good.” He laughed again. “Fuck. Lovey.” He stopped what he was doing to bend down and press his mouth to the small of her back. She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder. “What?” “You just…” He stopped. He shook his head. “You make me laugh.” “As long as you’re laughing with me and not at me.” “You’re not laughing.” “No. But I’m amused. So it’s okay.” He shook his head again, his

smile wide. His big hands started working over her shoulders, down her spine, all the way to the base. He shifted as she’d done, giving slow circular rubs to her butt cheeks, deeper and deeper. “That’s nice,” she slurred, her body melting into the mattress. “So nice.” His hands lingered at the crease of her ass, then stroked down over the backs of her thighs in long, sensuous glides. When his fingers slipped to the insides of her thighs, she smiled and parted her legs ever so slightly. Her pussy began to tingle

knowing his hands were so near, building to a hungry need to be touched. He teased her by slipping closer, then backing off, caressing and massaging her thighs and butt. Then he got more aggressive and his fingers slid down the crack of her ass. Oooh. That created a whole lot of tingles, up her spine and down to her toes. Every nerve ending in her body went onto alert as she anticipated more. He rubbed her there, deeper, lower, easing her thighs apart, until his hand was in her pussy. He paused for a moment to rub the massage bar between his palms,

slicking them up, and then he was using both hands on her ass and thighs and pussy, stroking over sensitive skin. Her back arched helplessly as her hips lifted to allow him access, and he played there for a long time, tormenting her with his fingers and then even his lips on her butt, nibbling and licking her. “See,” she breathed. “It does taste good.” “You’re right. Roll over.” She slowly rolled to her back, reaching behind to release her hair where it was trapped beneath her. Her eyes focused on Marc, kneeling beside her, his chest and arms bare

and gleaming with the massage oil she’d used earlier, emphasizing his ripped muscles even more. His eyes were hot on her breasts, and her nipples tingled. He rubbed his hands together, looking carnally eager to get them on her, and her tummy did a little flip of lust. Then his hands were on her, moving over her shoulders, her arms, and then, yes, her breasts. “Wow.” He gently squeezed and molded her breasts. “Feels so good with a little glide.” “Mmm.” It did feel good. He continued his massage, taking care to touch every inch of her,

kneading muscles, but mostly just petting her with silky touches. And then his hands were between her legs again. He kissed her stomach and stroked her pussy, and heat built inside her. He brushed over her clit with slippery fingers and she twitched hard. He murmured something wordless and she gave herself over to sensation, his fingers settling into small circles over her clit while he laid slow openmouthed kisses on her belly, kissing his way lower. He moved between her legs and his tongue joined his fingers. Her body went shivery hot and soft, a

swell of pleasure building deep inside her. She wanted to reach for him, but her arms were heavy, so she curled her fingers into the duvet. Soft whimpers rose in her throat, and her head tossed on the pillow as her inner muscles drew up tight, so tight it almost hurt, and she toppled over into shivering ecstasy. He kissed her gently over her quivering clit, then stretched out on his side next to her, head in his hand. He continued to softly stroke her body, cupping her hip, her waist, trailing fingers over her ribs and between her breasts.

She fought for breath and turned her head to look at him. Their eyes met, gazes merging in a mixture of wonder and excitement and question. “Get under the covers,” he growled softly. She started to obey, then looked down at herself. “I’m all greasy.” “I know. I like it.” She smiled. “Maybe we could have a shower.” “That is a fucking awesome idea.” He was off the bed in a flash, arm around her and leading her to the bathroom.

At the bathroom door, she paused. “Hey. Let’s have a bath instead.” “Sure.” “But not here. Let’s use Duncan’s bathroom. He’s got that huge soaker tub.” “No.” His jaw set. “Why not?” She blinked big eyes up at him. “He’s not home. He’ll never know.” “He’ll know. He’ll sense it. Somehow. I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right.” “Oh, come on. Have you seen his tub?”

“Yeah.” His mouth lifted at one corner. “You’re a big guy. Two of us in that little tub in our bathroom won’t work. Think how nice it’ll feel, naked in a tub of hot water… maybe some bubbles…” She rose on toes and brushed her mouth over his stubbly jaw. “You do this every time,” he muttered. “Fine. Just saying, this is against my better judgment.” “It’ll be fine.” She led the way into Duncan’s bedroom and then the attached bathroom. Which was amazing, all tiled in mocha and cream tiles, with a huge glassed-in

shower with multiple jets and a big oval tub on a raised platform. She cranked the water on, held her fingers beneath the stream to test the heat, adjusted it a little hotter. While it filled, she grabbed a big towel off a hook and wrapped it around her, then zipped back to their bathroom to scoop up more of her own towels and a bottle of bubble bath. “Am I going to smell like cupcakes?” He eyed the container in her hand. “Mmm, yeah. Hope you don’t mind.” “I like smelling you,” he

admitted. “Not sure if I want to smell that sweet.” “You won’t.” She moved up to him again, hands flat on his chest. “You’ll smell like masculine cupcakes.” He choked on a laugh. “Okay.” He helped her step in and followed her. She poured bubble bath in and soon they were sitting surrounded by bubbles and steam. Marc moved behind her and she leaned back against his chest. His arms came around her, his legs on either side of hers, and they relaxed into the liquid heat. “This is so nice,” she murmured.

“The massage. The pizza. The bath.” “The orgasms.” “Yeah. Those too.” She slid a little to the side so she could look up at him behind her. “The orgasms were amazing.” He cupped one breast in a big hand, sloshing water a little, and she let her head fall back to his chest. She felt like she was dissolving in the water, boneless and floaty and dreamy. A noise from the front of the condo had her eyes snapping open and her muscles contracting. Marc’s body behind her did the same. “Mon ostie de saint-

sacrament de câlice de crisse!” “Is that Duncan?” Stupid question. Who else would it be? “Shit, shit, shit!” She scrambled up and out of the water, over the side of the tub. Her foot slipped and she grabbed the edge, regained her balance, scooped up one of the towels. “Open the drain, open the drain!” “It’s too late, Lovey.” Marc’s voice held resignation and an edge of anger. “We’re fucked.” “Shit!” She wrapped the towel around herself. “Okay. You make a run for it. Get into your room or the other bathroom before he sees you.

I’ll tell him I wanted to have a bath.” His mouth a grim line, he reached for the track pants he’d worn into the bathroom and stepped into them. He wasn’t hurrying, though. “Faster!” she hissed. “Hurry!” With his pants on, he strode out of the bathroom and she trailed along, her heart thudding against her ribs. Her eyes wide, her fingers holding the towel up, she watched him. Would he make it? Would he… Duncan appeared in the bedroom door. He went stock-still, gaping at Marc in a pair of track pants, bare-

chested and clearly wet. “What are you—” His gaze went past Marc and landed on Lovey. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Lovey thought her heart might have actually stopped for several beats. It then resumed a fast, hard rhythm that made her legs shake. “What the fuck?”

Chapter 21 Army’s eyes snapped back to Marc. “You fucking bastard. I told you to keep your hands off her!” Marc held up his hands, his body tense and adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Just hold on, man. Hold on. Listen—” “I’m not fucking listening! You fucking nailed my sister! Fucking asshole.” Marc’s eyes widened as Army rushed at him and tackled him. With Lovey’s shriek in the

background, Army took him hard to the carpeted floor. Air whooshed out of Marc’s lungs and pain burst through his hip and shoulder. Then Army drew back a fist and nailed him in the jaw. Lights exploded in front of his eyes. At first he didn’t feel the pain, and he instinctively swung back, connecting with Army’s head. He tried to shove Army off him, but they were evenly matched. His jaw now throbbing, they both threw punches, some that hit, some that missed. Marc managed to roll and get Army under him and hit him again. “Fuck! Stop, Army, this

is fucked-up!” “Fuck you!” Army tried to punch him again and Marc blocked it. In the background, Lovey was freaking out. “Both of you stop! Don’t fight! You’re going to kill each other!” A slight exaggeration, as usual, but Marc couldn’t stop to laugh. She was wet and naked, save for the towel. He caught glimpses of her bare feet and calves as he and Army wrestled and punched. Câlisse, he didn’t want to hurt his buddy, he just wanted to defend himself, but Army was pulling no punches, so he was forced to fight

back. “Stop!” Lovey screamed. “This is ridiculous! You are not animals. You might think this is okay because you can do it on the ice, but you can’t do it here!” She aimed a kick at her brother’s ass with a small, bare foot. Army growled and yanked away, giving Marc a chance to get him pinned. “Lovey, for fuck’s sake!” He glared at Marc. “Let me up.” “Stop fucking punching me, asshole.” “You deserve it! What the fuck! And why are you in my bedroom?” “Oh God.” Lovey shoved her

hands into her damp hair. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She was looking at Marc. He wasn’t letting her take the fall for this, although he had tried to make her be sensible. Once again she’d enticed him into doing something against his better judgment. But he was just as guilty. He could have stood firm and said no, but he’d wanted to have a sexy bath with her as much as she’d wanted it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But if there was one thing he’d learned in his hockey career, beating yourself up over mistakes

did no good. You learned from it if there was something to learn and you moved on. When you screwed up and turned over the puck and it ended up in your own net, you couldn’t let that drag you down for the rest of the game, you had to put it behind you and focus. He rolled off Army and staggered to his feet. With a glare, he extended a hand to his buddy to help him up. Returning the glare, Army ignored him and went to his knees, then stood. He touched his jaw and winced. “Fuck, man, you drilled me hard.” “You’re the one who started it.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe this.” Lovey twisted her hands together. “You should not be hitting him, Duncan. This is my fault. Be mad at me.” “Oh, I am,” he assured her, his face thunderous. “You can only be mad at me for being stupid enough to want to use your bathtub.” “Fuck me.” Army closed his eyes. “You were having a bath together? I did not want to know that.” “I’m sorry, Duncan.” Lovey gentled her tone. “I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m grown up. I’m starting a business. I’m starting a

new life. And I’ll have sex with whoever I want. It wasn’t fair of you to warn Marc off me. Now he feels horrible and guilty.” She met his eyes and gave him a crooked smile. “I’m pretty sure anyway. But it’s my fault. I went after him. I kept telling him it would be okay, because you’d never know.” “How long has this been going on?” Army exploded. She tightened her mouth and her eyes shifted. “Awhile.” “Christ.” Army ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ.” “It’s okay, Duncan. I’m fine. I wanted this.”

“And what Lovey wants, Lovey gets.” Her face instantly tightened and Marc’s gut clenched. “Why don’t you go put some clothes on, baby,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll talk more.” She nodded, eyes wounded. “Yeah. Good idea.” She hitched the towel as she turned to walk out. When she was gone, Marc turned to Army. “Look, man. I’m really sorry. This is not the way you should have found out about us. Yeah, we both kind of lost our minds. We shouldn’t have been in your tub.”

“Never mind the tub! You shouldn’t be together at all! Were you going to tell me?” Army demanded. “Ever?” “We hadn’t talked about it, but yeah, I planned to.” “When?” “I’m not sure. I wanted to discuss that with her. Listen, Army.” He hesitated, because he hadn’t even really admitted this to himself. “You know that stupid rule, about a guy’s sister being off-limits forever? Well, the rest of that rule is, unless you marry her. Truth is, I’m in love with Lovey.” Army’s eyes popped open.

“What!” Marc held his gaze steadily. “You heard me. I love her. I think I realized it tonight. Or maybe it was the night we had the party. Or maybe it was…Never mind.” “Jesus.” Army shook his head, looking like he’d been whacked in the face with a hockey stick. “Seriously?” “Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m not gonna hurt her. I love her.” “Does she feel the same?” Army looked confused at the idea of his sister being in love. “We haven’t said it,” Marc admitted. “But…there’s something

there between us. I think she feels it too.” Army dropped his hands, paced across the room, and stared out his bedroom window at the glittering Chicago skyline. He shook his head. “She’s my little sister.” “She’s twenty-four. She’s an adult. She makes her own decisions.” “But not good ones.” Army grimaced. “I told you, she changes jobs, changes boyfriends, moves to Chicago on an impulse…then she hooks up with my best friend.” “Just what do you have against me?” Marc folded his arms across

his chest and fixed a look on Army. Army had the grace to look ashamed. “It’s not you, man. Nothing wrong with you.” “Then what’s the problem?” He narrowed his eyes. “Because if you think Lovey’s not good enough for me, then that is fucked up. She’s amazing.” Army lifted his chin. “I didn’t mean that either.” “Then seriously…what’s the problem if we’re together?” Army sighed. He looked away. He looked back. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t want her to get hurt. I want her to grow up and be responsible.”

“You think I’m the kind of guy who’d hurt her? Who’d screw her over?” Marc shook his head. “You should know me better than that. When have I ever treated a woman badly?” Army grimaced. “Never.” “Exactly. I’m serious about Lovey. I’m not just screwing around with her. I want a future with her.” Army was silent. “Wow. Hell. I don’t know what to say.” “Maybe you could just apologize for whaling on me.” Army gave him a lopsided smile. “Not sure yet if I’m sorry about that. Okay, okay. Sorry, dude. Heat

of the moment and all that. We good?” “Yeah. I get it.” Marc frowned. “Where the hell is Lovey? I thought she was getting dressed.” They both started to the door. Marc exited the bedroom and looked toward the other bathroom. Door open, light out. Her bedroom door was closed. He looked back at Army. “I’m going in there. I have to make sure she’s all right. Deal with it.” Army nodded, looking torn. “Okay. Yeah. Your girl. Make sure she’s okay. She fucking better be okay.”

“She might need an apology from you too. Tomorrow will do.” “Ha. Fine.” He turned to go back into his bedroom. “Hey, Army.” “Yeah?” “Why’re you home so early?” “Melissa had a headache.” Marc pursed his lips. “Sucks for you.” “Again, ha. See you tomorrow.” Marc nodded and paused at Lovey’s door. Christ, he’d really never been in her room. They always ended up in his. He knocked. “Go away.”

He pressed his lips together and went in anyway. Lovey was in her bed, in the dark, huddled under the covers. He crossed to the bed and sat on the side, laying a hand on her hip. “Lovey. You okay?” “I’m fine.” Bullshit. When women said they were fine, that meant they were so not fine. “Come on. Talk to me.” “Not now. Really. I’m embarrassed. And I feel terrible.” Well, yeah. He got that. Never mind that Duncan didn’t know anything about them, being caught half-naked with a guy by your older brother was definitely

embarrassing. “We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” “Sure.” He wanted to climb into bed with her and spend the night with her in his arms. And now that things were out in the open with Duncan…nah. They needed to let Duncan come to terms with this before they started openly sleeping with each other in front of him. Out of respect for his friend, he’d sleep in his own room. Alone. “Okay.” He patted her again, then stood and left. —

Lovey huddled under the covers, trembling, her insides so tight she felt like she might barf. God! What had she just heard Marc say? She’d padded down the hall, pausing outside Duncan’s room to listen to them talk, hoping they weren’t still fighting, and her jaw had damn near hit the floor at what she’d heard. He was serious about her? He wanted a future with her? What the hell did that mean? No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to be something serious! They were having sex and having fun. She wasn’t ready to settle down in a long-term relationship! Hence the

breakup with Richard, who’d wanted marriage and babies…she was too young. Not ready for that. No way. She was just starting her new business and she wanted to see if she could do this. She wasn’t giving up a career that was going to prove to everyone, including herself, that she had something she was good at, that she wasn’t just a flighty screwup who couldn’t stick with anything longer than the length of a TV sitcom. What had happened? How could Marc have said those things? Did he want to get married and have kids? God, she’d even thought about

the fact that he needed a wife. As team captain, it would help him have someone to organize social events that brought the team together on a different level. He needed someone like…like… She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling in the dark. Okay, she didn’t know anyone she would want to see Marc with. But it couldn’t be her. She was not the woman for him. He had big responsibilities. Big commitments. He was always in control. He was serious about his career. And this wasn’t just any career. His career was huge. There

were a lot of people counting on him—his teammates, coaches, team owners, sponsors, millions of fans. He was in the public eye. He had to be aware of everything he said and did. How could someone like her fit into that kind of life? She was starting to get it together, but clearly, based on what had just transpired, she had a long way to go. She had to put an end to this now. She didn’t know what he was anticipating. She was moving out in a few weeks and she hadn’t thought about what would happen between them after that. She supposed she’d

just assumed that once they were no longer living in the same condo, the attraction would fade away. They wouldn’t be seeing each other on a daily basis. They wouldn’t be fighting that powerful chemistry between them. Her stomach rolled with nausea and her hands curled into fists. She should never have slept with him. She hadn’t known he was going to get all serious. Oh yeah. Captain Codger. She should have known. His last relationship had lasted over two years. He wasn’t one to screw around. He was just as

serious as Richard. God. What had she done? Sleep was impossible. She pitched and rolled and flopped in her bed all night. Even when she did doze off, crazy, nonsensical dreams filled her thoughts. In the morning she snuck in and out of the bathroom, then stayed in her room until she heard Duncan and Marc leave for their practice. She didn’t feel like eating, but she needed coffee. And ibuprofen. Her head felt like her scalp had been tightened. Even her eyes throbbed. She sat at the island with her coffee, waiting for the painkillers

and the caffeine to take effect, thinking about what to do. Now she wished she could move out sooner. That sparked an idea, and she searched through the papers from the rental agency. She made a call to see if there was any possibility of moving into the apartment before the first of the month. You never knew. This time luck was with her. The apartment was already empty. They were going to paint before she moved in. She offered to do that for them if she could move in sooner. Painting a small studio apartment couldn’t be that big a job. It would

be fun. After some discussion, they agreed she could move in on the weekend. Only a couple of days away. Thank God. She nibbled her bottom lip, contemplating the next steps. Her things from storage weren’t due to be delivered until January second. And she had her bedroom furniture and clothes here that had to be moved. She’d thought maybe Marc and Duncan would help her, but now she didn’t want to ask them. She just wanted to disappear. Their schedule also wouldn’t allow them to help her, as they were

leaving tomorrow for back-to-back road games in Minneapolis Friday and Saturday. But in a way, that was good. She went online to Google some things, made a few more phone calls, and when she had it all arranged, she sat on her bed. Feeling sad. Dammit. She shouldn’t be feeling sad about leaving. She should be relieved and happy that things had all worked out so well. She didn’t want to be there when Duncan and Marc got home. She wasn’t sure where she was going to go. Tonight was the course on

matching beer with food she’d signed them up for. She considered just bailing, but then stiffened her spine. She didn’t want to miss out on something cool because of all this shit. She’d see if Jillian wanted to go with her. Jillian worked for a beer company. She’d love it. One more phone call confirmed those arrangements, and then she dressed and did a little makeup and hair work. She slid her laptop into its case along with a file of business papers, left the condo, and searched for somewhere she could hang out that afternoon and get some work done.

A Starbucks on Illinois Street provided that solution. She could spend a few hours there, do some shopping if she needed to kill more time, and then meet Jillian at six for the beer course. Her phone buzzed with a text message just before two o’clock. Marc. Hey where are you? She looked at the message, then ignored it for a while. He didn’t need an immediate answer. She could be in a business meeting and not able to take calls or check messages. She ordered her second latte and continued working. Concentrating on work was just

what she needed to take her mind off stuff. An hour later she texted him back. Had work to do. His reply came right away. R U coming home, or do U want me to meet you at beer thing? She sighed, a weight settling on her chest, then tapped in her reply. Jillian is going to come with me to the beer thing. She likes beer. She waited with jumpy nerves for his response; it took a while and she almost thought he wouldn’t send one. But it was just, Okay, then. For some reason her nose started

to sting and she had to blink back tears. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Well. That had been easy. When she met Jillian at the brew pub where the course was being held, Jillian took one look at her and said, “Whoa. You look awful.” “Thanks.” “Are you feeling okay?” “I have a killer headache.” “Need something?” “Do you have? I took some ibuprofen this morning but I forgot to bring any, and now my headache’s back.”

They quickly transferred a couple of little pills between their hands, and Lovey used the last of a bottle of water she’d purchased at Starbucks to wash it down. “There.” She tried to focus on the course, which was really quite cool. She learned that you could think of ale as red wine and lager as white wine. “Ales are more fruity and robust,” the instructor, a local chef, told them. “Lagers are crisper, more delicate. And as with wine, there are light, medium, and heavy bodies. Generally, light beers pair well with light dishes, and heavy beers with heavy dishes.”

They got to sample a bock beer with spicy jerk chicken and a stout with braised lamb shanks, to name only a couple of the dishes, as well as assorted cheeses paired with various beers. Lovey pasted on a smile and laughed and interacted with the other people there. Then she had to go home. And face Marc.

Chapter 22 Marc was in a pissy mood all evening. What the fuck was Lovey doing? She’d brushed him off and took someone else to the course they’d planned to attend together. Not that he was dying to learn about matching beer with food, but she’d invited him and he’d been looking forward to it, even though he’d hesitated at first. He played some video games, then read another book about achieving peak performance in

sports, waiting for her to come home. Army—now out shopping with Melissa, the model he’d been seeing—didn’t seem too worried about Lovey. It was nearly ten when Lovey finally walked in. Marc leaped off his bed and strode out to see her. They hadn’t talked since last night during the Duncan Disaster. “Hey, Lovey,” he said cautiously, not sure what to expect. She gave him a breezy smile. “Hey, you.” A hundred questions backed up in his brain and he didn’t know what to ask. Silence stretched out

between them. Finally he asked the stupidest question of all. “Why’d you take Jillian tonight? I thought we were going together.” She sighed. “Yeah, we need to talk.” She ran her tongue over her top teeth. “Look, Marc. We were having fun. But we should never have started what we did. And I shouldn’t have invited you to something like that.” His gut turned to rock. “What do you mean?” “We were fooling around, having fun, keeping it secret from Duncan. He was never supposed to know about it. Now he does, he’s pissed

off, you feel shitty, I feel shitty. It’s a big mess and it’s all my fault. I’m sorry. Let’s just…move on. Okay?” No. Not fucking okay. He stared at her, every muscle in his body going rigid. Move on? What did that mean? He had a feeling it didn’t mean what he wanted it to mean. “I’m going to bed.” She gave a weary smile. “I didn’t sleep great last night and I’ve had a headache all day.” He watched her move past him and down the hall. His hands balled into fists. What. The. Fuck. She was done with him. Just like that.

That was all it had been for her? Fooling around and having fun? Really? He swallowed through a tight throat. Gave his head a shake. Then instead of standing there like an idiot, he went to his bedroom. He tried to make sense of it. He really had thought there was more developing between them than “fooling around.” But she was dumping him. So to speak. Could you call it getting dumped when they’d never really been together? But it had felt like they were together. Other than hiding it from Army, it had felt a lot like it. And

here he’d been, trying to figure out how to tell Army so they could continue to explore whatever it was between them, out in the open and for real. But that wasn’t what she wanted. He shoved off his jeans, pulled off his T-shirt, and climbed into bed in his boxers. Weirdly, this stung more than when Marissa had dumped him. Because he wasn’t romantic enough. Was that what the problem with Lovey was? Not enough romance? There’d been no romance. There’d been a lot of hot, furtive

sex. Hanging out in the condo, cooking meals, watching movies, out with big groups of people after games. There’d been that night at Fowler…the dinner before had kinda felt like a date, but…that had been far from romantic. He was such a fucking loser. How could he think there was something between them when they’d never even been on a fucking date? He lifted an arm and drilled a fist into the mattress, then lifted it and covered his eyes with his forearm. Tabernak de tabernak! —

His pissy mood served him well on their road trip. Friday night, he was slamming guys into the boards at every opportunity. He enjoyed every check that shuddered through his own body. The slap shot that vibrated up his arms felt good, and felt even better when it rocketed past the Wild goalie and bulged the twine. He set the tone for the game, physical and grinding, and ultimately a four-two win. After, aching and throbbing all over, he questioned his sanity, but fuck, it had felt damn fine and had been worth it to see the other guys jump onboard and play their guts

out. Everyone was in high spirits afterward, music blasting in the dressing room and lots of backslapping. He rode the bike for a while to cool down. When a bunch of guys were going out after, he debated just returning to his hotel room, but then decided he needed to put on a game face and be part of his team. So he dressed in his suit and tie and they walked the few blocks from the arena to some big nightclub. With pulsing lights and driving music, surrounded by puck bunnies and beer, he tried to forget that he was miserable.

It didn’t totally work. He knew better than to compensate with booze and hot chicks, and dragged Army back to the hotel in a taxi shortly after midnight. Too bad Army started talking about Lovey. “So? Did you talk to her?” he asked. “What’s happening?” Marc looked out the side window. “Yeah. We talked. Sort of.” “And?” “Apparently I was wrong.” He rubbed his jaw, still not looking at Army. “She doesn’t feel the same. So…we’re done.”

Army was silent for few moments, then said, “Really?” “Yup. Really. We were supposed to go out last night. She stood me up and took Jillian with her. Then when she got home she said it had all been a big mistake.” He could feel waves of tension coming off Army, so he turned to look at him, wondering if he should brace himself for getting punched again. Instead, Army looked… sympathetic. “Shit, man,” his friend said quietly. “You really in love with her?” “Ah, doesn’t matter.” He didn’t

want to be stripped bare, naked and shivering in the dark, everyone feeling sorry for him. “Whatever.” “Christ,” Army muttered. “I was worried about her…should’ve been worried about you. Should’ve known you’re not the type to fuck someone over. But she is.” “No, she’s not,” Marc said sharply. “She’s just…I don’t know. She’s not a bad person.” He sighed. Maybe this was what Lovey was like, playing around with guys and then dumping them for no good reason. Maybe he should’ve listened to Duncan. “I guess I screwed up, thinking it was more

than it was. I didn’t do anything to… to wine her and dine her…how would she know it wasn’t more than just screwing around?” “Wine her and dine her?” Army lifted an eyebrow. Marc shrugged. “Apparently chicks like that. Marissa said I wasn’t romantic enough.” “Huh. Well. Maybe you could still do that.” Marc eyed his friend sourly. “Now you’re all in favor of this?” Army made a face. “Hate seeing you all busted up over her.” “I’m not,” he snapped. “It’s…

whatever.” “The more you say ‘whatever’ the more I know it’s not ‘whatever.’ ” “Fuck off.” Army actually laughed. “Oh man.” Then he sighed. “Go home and ask her out on a date. With my blessing.” “She doesn’t want to date me.” “How do you know? You don’t know until you ask.” “Not a big fan of setting myself up for rejection.” “I get that. But come on…how much worse can it be? And…is she worth it?”

Marc rolled his eyes and turned away again, watching city lights slide by. The taxi pulled up at the front door of the hotel and bellhops jumped up to open their doors. Marc handed some bills over to the driver. “Keep the change.” He and Army used to be roommates on the road too, sharing hotel rooms, but that was no longer required and they had their own rooms. Alone, Marc turned on the TV and found ESPN. Did Armdog really now approve of him and Lovey being together? That was pretty damn ironic, considering.

Was she worth it? He kept thinking about that, over and over. He was afraid of the answer. He was afraid that if he thought about all the reasons she was worth it, he might as well just stab a knife into his heart and twist it. — Which was pretty much how he felt when he arrived home on Sunday to find the condo empty. She’d moved out. He sensed the emptiness when he and Army walked in. He slowly

walked down the hall to her bedroom, and sure enough…empty. Cleaned right out. He couldn’t believe it. He returned to the main room. “She’s gone,” he told Army. Army frowned. “Lovey. She moved out. All her stuff is gone.” “The fuck. Seriously?” And he had to go look too. “Well, shit.” “You wanted her gone, Armdog.” “Yeah, yeah. Shit. I’ll call her.” Marc nodded. Better him. He listened while Army talked to her, not getting much out of the one-

sided conversation. Then Army related more to him. “She got them to let her move in early in exchange for painting the apartment. She hired some moving company to take her stuff yesterday and the rest of her things from storage are coming from Madison tomorrow.” Marc lifted his chin. “She say why?” It was because of him. Because they’d messed up and made things weird and awkward and she had to leave. “She just said she wanted to get on with it.” Move on. Sure.

“It’s probably better,” Marc said quietly. “Sorry about this, man. Should never have happened. You should go see her and make sure things are okay with you two.” Army scratched his scruffy cheek. “I guess. I wanna see this place. Hopefully it’s not a dive. I’ll go over later and see if she needs anything.” “Yeah. Good.” “Man, I’m sorry she did this to you.” Army grimaced. “She’s such a fuckin’ flake.” Again Marc found himself feeling defensive of Lovey, even though it appeared Army was totally right. He carried his duffel bag to his room to

unpack. Instead he ended up lying on his back on the bed, hands behind his head, staring into space for who knew how long. — “Seems decent.” Duncan looked around Lovey’s studio apartment. “A little on the empty side right now.” “The stupid thing is, I have more furniture than I need. There’s no room for a bed and a sofa in this space.” Her studio apartment combined living room and bedroom. She

needed a sofa bed or a futon or something. “It’s pretty tiny,” he agreed. “What are you going to do?” “I’ll sleep on the couch for a while. Maybe just prop my bed up against a wall to get it out of the way, until I can sell it and the couch. Maybe I can get a few bucks for them and buy a futon.” “Jesus, Lovey.” “What?” She set her hands on her hips. “You wanted me to move out on my own. What’s wrong?” His lips compressed. “I don’t know. I just didn’t think…”

“This is me being a responsible grown-up. This is what I can afford until I start bringing in more money. I don’t mind living like this for a while. It won’t be forever.” She raised her chin. “I’m going to make a success of my business.” “Shit, Lovey. I’m sorry. I know you are. You’re smart and talented, and it seems like you have been working hard at this.” “I have.” “Anything you need right now?” Marc. Damn. Not Marc. “No.” Duncan eyed her. “I’m kind of

pissed at how you treated Marc.” “What?” “Yeah. I tried to tell him to stay away from you. I thought I was concerned about you hooking up with him, or one of the other guys. Turns out I should’ve been worried for them. As usual, you just jumped into something without thinking it through and ended up making a big mess of it. What was that all about, Lovey? You thumbing your nose at me because I was being overprotective?” “No!” She stared at him, wideeyed. “No way.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t using him. I was attracted

to him. He was attracted to me. It was…hot. We wanted each other. It was a little complicated when one time turned into more…we were trying to hide it from you. I would’ve told you, but I knew Marc was worried that you’d be pissed at him, he didn’t want to wreck your relationship.” She bit her lip. “Are you two okay?” “Yeah. We’re good.” “I know he felt terrible about it because of your stupid guy rules or whatever. He’d told you he wouldn’t touch me and then he did and I know he felt guilty. I never wanted to ruin your friendship with him.”

“Why’d you break up with him if you weren’t just using him to piss me off?” She sighed. She moved over to her bed, the only piece of furniture you could sit on, and sat. “Look. I heard you two talking the other night. After you walked in on us. I heard him telling you that he was serious about me. It was never supposed to be like that.” She waved her hands in front of her like a ref waving off a goal. “So you were just screwing around with him and having fun.” She swallowed, her throat thick, and nodded.

“Did you hear him say he’s in love with you?” She gaped at him. Marc was in love with her? “He thought you felt the same way.” Whoa. “No,” she said slowly. “Lovey. You broke his heart.” She drew back, her chin jerking down. “What?” “You hurt him. Cutting him out like that. He’s in love with you and you just…cut him.” She blinked rapidly, her chest aching, her throat tightening. She’d figured it was better to end it now,

before things got as serious as the L word. But…Marc loved her? “I-I…” “He thought you felt the same. But hey…if you don’t, you don’t. You can’t make yourself love someone if you don’t.” Duncan rolled his eyes. “You do need to grow up. Too bad a good guy had to be decimated.” “That’s not fair.” Her hand went to her aching throat. He shrugged. “Think about it. I gotta go. Some of the guys are going out for wings.” She watched him leave, her bottom lip quivering. There’d been a time when they would’ve invited

her for wings. She’d had fun hanging out with Duncan and Marc and the guys. But she’d totally messed that up. “Duncan?” He stopped at the door. “Yeah?” “You said…that night…‘what Lovey wants, Lovey gets.’ D’you really think I’m that spoiled?” His lips compressed. “I don’t know.” She frowned. She’d hoped he’d deny it. “You always got whatever you wanted growing up,” he continued slowly. “Mom and Dad gave you

stuff they never gave me.” She fought back the reflexive impulse to get defensive. It was true. “Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “But you know why, don’t you?” He shrugged. “Because you wanted it.” She shook her head slowly. “No. That wasn’t it, Dunc. I never asked for stuff. I mean, sometimes I did, but I wasn’t some spoiled kid who had a tantrum whenever she didn’t get what she wanted. They bent over backwards to make me happy because their lives were so wrapped up with giving you what you needed. Because you were the

mega-talented hockey star who was destined to make it big in the NHL. They spent all their time driving you around to games and practices and tournaments, making sure you got everything you needed.” He opened his mouth but she held up a hand. “It was fine,” she said softly. “I never resented it. Well, maybe a little, sometimes. But I was proud of you too. I wanted you to succeed. I just wished I had something that great. Something I was that good at too.” One corner of her mouth kicked up. He stared at her. “Fuck,” he

muttered. “I never…Lovey. You do have something that great.” She shook her head, smiling. “No, I don’t. But I have found what I want to do with my life, and I hoped you would support that and be happy for me.” “Shit. I’m an idiot. I am happy for you. But…what I meant was, you have something special that I don’t have. You have this amazing… brightness. Personality. A love for life and a way of making people feel good…I don’t know anybody else who has that like you do.” “Oh.” She blinked. “Thank you.” He gave a terse nod and met her

eyes. He tipped his head to one side and rubbed his jaw. “Is that why relationships never last for you?” She frowned. “What do you mean?” “Do you think you’re not good enough for anyone? Because you don’t have anything special?” He stared at her, eyes intense. “If that’s what’s stopping you from being with Marc…you better think again, Lovey.” He shook his head, then said good night and left. She sat alone in her little apartment. Her bed and dresser and nightstand were her only furniture. Her clothes hung in the closet and

she’d unpacked her toiletries and the few towels and linens she had, placing them in the bathroom. She still had to unpack her cookware and dishes. The apartment came with a microwave, so she’d eaten a frozen dinner last night with a plastic fork, and that morning drank her store-bought smoothie that tasted like crap. But it wasn’t the emptiness that bothered her the most. It was the loneliness. That was stupid. She’d lived alone in Madison for a few years after college. In Madison she’d had a busy social life. Here, she was

starting to make friends. She’d gone to her yoga class that morning, chatted with Michele, who she’d met there and had lunch with that one day. She was just used to two big, active guys being around all the time. Except they hadn’t been around all the time. They were busy, and they’d been gone lots of days and nights on road trips. So she didn’t understand why she felt so lonely. She just needed to keep herself busy. She thought about calling Jillian to see if she wanted to go out. But

she had no idea where. It was Sunday night. She wasn’t even hungry, so suggesting dinner seemed stupid. A movie? Maybe. But she was also afraid Jillian would figure out something was wrong and Lovey would be tempted to spill everything that had happened, and she felt…ashamed. She didn’t really want any more people to know how badly she’d screwed up. Luckily Duncan seemed to have forgiven her. And seemed to have forgiven Marc. She’d been terrified after blowing up and actually fighting with Marc that Duncan would be so angry he’d

ask Marc to move out. If she’d wrecked their relationship, she would never have forgiven herself. She tossed a package of popcorn into her microwave and waited while it popped. Dinner. Weirdly, Duncan didn’t seem mad at Marc. He seemed…sorry for him. Oh yeah, because his heart was broken. Duncan was mad at her for that. She felt a sharp stabbing pain in her own heart. She shook it off. She sat on her bed, back against the wall, the bag of popcorn on her lap, music playing from her iPod through speakers.

She couldn’t stop the thoughts that tumbled through her head, random and disjointed. She couldn’t figure out the feelings that swirled through her, the ache of longing in her chest, the pinch of regret, the heavy sadness. Her heart hurt so badly. She hurt for Marc. Because she cared about him. And she hurt for herself, because she missed him. She wanted to be with him. She closed her eyes as a wave of yearning swept over her. Tears slipped out of her eyes and she held the popcorn bag, not eating. The kernels she’d just

chewed and swallowed felt stuck in her throat. She remembered Marc tracing a finger over her tattoo. Live. Laugh. Love. She’d thought she was living her motto. Living life to the fullest. Pursuing her dream, the dream she’d finally realized. Starting a new life in a new city, making new friends. She’d thought living, laughing, and loving meant having fun. But life was more than that. She’d thought she was fun and spontaneous and adventurous. In reality, she was undisciplined and

self-indulgent. That comment of Duncan’s the night he’d walked in on them—what Lovey wants, Lovey gets…Duncan was right, she couldn’t commit. To jobs. To men. To a hair color. Well, that had been a few years ago. She now accepted her strawberry-blond hair and freckles. But still. She was a screwup. Then Duncan’s words played through her mind. If that’s what’s stopping you from being with Marc…you better think again, Lovey. She was still living in big brother’s shadow, so afraid to fail, she wouldn’t commit to anything.

And that had caused a good man to get hurt. A very good man. The best. Sure, they teased him and called him Captain Codger. But she’d seen him laugh and smile. She’d seen the lighter side of him. And what was wrong with a man who was responsible and honorable, dedicated to his sport, loyal to his team and his teammates? Giving his all every game, even concerned for his boys off the ice too, wanting to make sure Dale got help, wanting to make sure Ryan and Andrew felt like part of the team. She’d thought having sex with

Marc was loving. But loving was so much more than sex. Loving was being together and talking about anything and everything. Sharing hopes and dreams and fears. Like Marc had shared the weight of responsibility that was dragging him down when the team had been losing, when he knew he needed to do something difficult. And she’d told him about her business, her hopes and dreams for it, how growing up she’d always felt she could never be good enough or live up to her big brother. She’d never told anyone else that. Love was cooking together,

shopping together, him doing the dishes for her after she made a big meal. Love was wanting to do things for each other with no promise of—or need for—anything in return. All the time she’d been living with them, all the time she’d been spending with Marc, she’d thought she was having fun. But really… she’d been falling in love with him. And she’d screwed up and hurt him and lost him because she was too scared to admit that.

Chapter 23 She was making a complete fool of herself. Deep breath. Lovey sat in the stands, row one, at the end of the rink where the Aces warmed up. At the other end, the Montreal Canadiens skated. Linkin Park blasted over the sound system for the warm-up. She clutched the rolled-up cylinder of bristol board in her hands. Waiting. There was Marc. Helmet-less, as usual in the warm-

up. He stood at the blue line on the opposite side of the ice, talking to another player, then with a fast push he was off, skating. Flying, really, around behind the net, whizzing right past her, oblivious to her presence. She needed just the right moment. Her heart tapped out a rapid rhythm and her palms dampened the thin cardboard. She wiped one, then the other, on her jeans. This was crazy. But she was determined. There he was, skating slower, right toward her. She bit her lip as

she quickly unfurled the poster she’d made. Her heart pounded now and her hands shook as she held the edges of the poster and flattened it up on the glass, right in front of her face. She peeked around it. He saw it. He blinked. He continued to glide toward her. She stood so he could see her, now trembling all over. His gaze lifted from the poster to her face. He came to a slow stop right in front of her. Some kids who’d lined up against the boards started banging on the glass, calling “Marc! Marc Dupuis! Super Duper!”

Marc’s eyes flicked to them and he flashed a brief smile, but his gaze snapped back to her. She gave him a tentative smile. He set a gloved hand on the Plexiglas right in front of her. She laid her palm there. The poster curled up, released from her hold. Their eyes met and held, people and noise all around them, kids banging on the glass, loud music, skates scraping across ice, sticks slapping pucks. It was so not romantic. “Really?” he said. She nodded. “Lovey.” He grinned and shook

his head. “Now? Really?” She gave him a shaky smile back. Some of the other players had noticed and were looking at them. She lifted her chin. “Get back to your warm-up.” “I’ll find you after the game. Don’t leave the arena.” She nodded, her heart climbing into her throat and lodging there as she clumsily rolled up the poster and took her seat. The kids and people sitting near her were shooting her curious glances, but Marc distracted them by flicking a couple of pucks over the glass for them to catch and keep. They

jumped up and down with excitement. One little girl in a tiny Aces jersey came up to her. “What does your poster say?” Lovey sucked in her bottom lip. “I’ll show you.” She unrolled it. “ ‘I love you, Marc Dupuis,’ ” the little girl read aloud. She lifted her eyes to Lovey. “I love him too!” Lovey grinned. Her heart expanded fast and hard against her breastbone and she sniffled a little. “And he talked to you,” the girl said. “I’m gonna make a poster like that next time!”

“You should totally do that.” Lovey nodded seriously. Now she had to sit through the whole game, nerves twisting inside her, waiting to find out what he thought of her crazy gesture, waiting to find out if he could forgive her, if there was any hope for them. — Marc managed to keep his shit together through the game. It took some determination, but he turned distraction into a positive. Knowing Lovey was there watching made him want to make her proud. He

wanted to impress her. As if it was the first time she’d ever seen him play. But it was the first time she’d seen him play after telling him she loved him. His chest swelled at that thought but he also had to laugh. Christ! What a way to tell him. And then expect him to focus on hockey. He’d taken heat in the dressing room after the warm-up, first from Coach, who’d seen him standing at the glass talking to her, then from the guys who’d seen the sign. He didn’t give a shit. They could bug him all they wanted. They didn’t have Lovey holding up a sign that

said she loved them. He skated hard, hit hard, drove hard to the net, scored two goals, and got two assists and they pulled off another fucking win. It was sweeter at home, with the crowd behind them, going crazy. After the game, he skated up to Stoykers and bumped helmets, patted his back, then glided to center ice to circle with other players, sticks in the air, saluting their loyal fans. He found Lovey in the crowd, right up front, her beaming smile as she clapped her hands together reaching out to him like a beacon. He saluted her and then skated off to head to the

dressing room. Pumping music and an electric atmosphere filled the room. He’d never been so motivated to get out of there quickly, but Modi in Communications had lined up two interviews for him with media. Then he had to go up to the suite where the kids from Saint Joseph Hospital were tonight. He huffed out a frustrated breath. Done with the interviews, he showered, changed into his suit, and pulled out his cellphone. He exchanged a few text messages with Lovey, instructing her to meet him on the Level B concourse. He’d take

her to the suite with him. What the hell. She could hang out and see the kids and how special they were. They’d both just have to be patient. Patient. He could be patient. Although he was all pumped and jumpy with adrenaline, not only from the game but also from Lovey’s appearance with that poster, nearly sending him to his knees on the ice. Which would have been embarrassing. He hurried through the now nearly empty concourse, skipping the escalator for the stairs, which he took two at time. He saw her standing near an entrance, wearing

a black Aces hoodie, skinny jeans, and Converse sneakers, looking almost like one of the kids who’d been banging on the glass during the warm-up. She was still holding the crazy poster, rolled up under her arm. She saw him approach and took a couple of steps toward him. He nearly ran at her, eating up the floor in long strides. He stopped right in front of her and drank in the sight of her beautiful face, her green-andgold eyes, golden freckles, pretty mouth, her shimmery red-gold hair hanging in waves around her shoulders. “Fuck, Lovey.”

Then he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her. The poster fell to the floor with a hollow bounce as he crushed her up against him, one hand sliding into her hair and pressing her face against his chest. He breathed in through his nose, eyes closed, working for control. She smelled like cupcakes. His bathroom had been bare and empty the last few days. No bottles of scented shower gel, no pink shavers and poufy scrubbers. He hated it. He missed her like hell. “What happened?” he growled. “Why? Why’d you do that?”

“I’ve been so stupid,” she mumbled into his chest. “I needed some way to really show you…I mean it. In front of fifty thousand people.” He laughed. “The arena only holds twenty thousand, and it was the warm-up. There weren’t even twenty thousand people there.” “Shut up. You know what I mean.” “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.” He let her head go and framed her face with both hands. “I love you too.” Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes got shiny. “Thank God.”

He smiled and rubbed her lip with his thumb. “Were you worried?” “Yes. I…I hurt you.” She blinked. “Duncan told me you loved me. He said I hurt you. I felt horrible. It hurt me to think about that. And I realized…I love you too. But I wasn’t sure if you’d forgive me.” “Aw, baby. I’ve been thinking too this week. Thinking that maybe I let you down. Figuring that you’re worth fighting for. Figuring out a way to have another chance with you. To do better.” “You didn’t let me down.” She frowned. “How could you say that?”

“Can we talk more later? I have a bunch of guests in the suite I need to go say hi to and get some pictures taken with.” “Oh. Of course!” “Come with me. It’ll be fun.” “Is that okay?” “Sure. It’s my suite.” He took her hand and led the way. He was pretty sure he’d never done that—held her hand. It was nice. She rocked in the suite with the kids. He knew she would. She smiled and charmed them all, helped with pictures and

autographs, heard some of their stories. He always got so much from these times, and he did tonight too, but had to selfishly admit he wanted to be done and out of there so he could be with Lovey. But he saw she was getting something out of it too, and so were the kids. So he could wait. “We’ll go to your place,” he decreed after. “I want to see it. Plus we’ll have privacy.” “It’s not anything special. I haven’t had a chance to do much with it, and it’s too crowded with all my furniture.” “Is there a bed?”

“Um…well, it’s on its side against the wall. I’ve been sleeping on my couch.” He shot her a horrified look. “That’s no good.” “We can get the bed down, but there won’t be room to move.” “We’ll figure it out.” She gave him directions. He found a parking spot on the street, then set his hand on the small of her back as she led the way into the building and to her third-floor apartment. He looked around once inside. Duncan hadn’t been lying. It was painfully small. Of course, after his

spacious condo, anything would be, but seriously…a studio? It didn’t even have a bedroom. “I’m going to paint this weekend,” she said. “So I haven’t put anything on the walls yet.” She bit her lip and lowered her chin. “It’s nice, Lovey. Just small.” “I’m getting a futon. I picked it out and it’s being delivered this weekend too. I sold the couch. They’re coming to get it tomorrow. But I’m probably going to have to pay someone to take the bed away.” “We’ll take it back to Army’s place. He can store it in that

bedroom for you.” “Oh. That would be great.” “I’ll help you tomorrow.” “Well, I need the bed for one more night after they take the couch.” She sighed. “This has all been a lot of work. But it’s my place. Um. Have a seat.” She gestured to the couch, the mattress wedged on its side against the wall behind it. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over an armchair and loosened his tie as he sat. As she went to sit, he pulled her onto his lap, tucking her in against him. Perfect. She fit perfect. “You moved out early.”

“Yeah. I didn’t think I should stay. I’d made such a mess of everything.” “I told you before, it wasn’t all your fault.” “It was. Like Duncan said…what Lovey wants, Lovey gets. I didn’t think of the consequences. I just went after what I wanted—which was you—thinking we would just have some fun. I knew you were worried about Duncan finding out, but I did it anyway. And then when it happened, he found out, you guys were fighting and…and hurting each other. I was so afraid I’d wrecked your friendship.”

“Nah. We’re good.” “I got that from Duncan. Thank God. But he made me think about some things.” She peeked up at him from under her eyelashes. “I heard you talking to Duncan that night. After you fought.” He frowned. “You did?” “Yeah. I went to put some clothes on, but I heard you telling him you were serious about me. I stopped outside and eavesdropped. Which I guess is a bad thing to do, but I was…paralyzed. I thought we were fooling around and having fun. I didn’t realize how serious things had gotten. That scared the crap out

of me. I’m not ready to settle down.” “No?” His body tensed. What did that mean, exactly? She was in love with him, but…? “I mean, I wasn’t ready.” Her smile held a hint of uncertainty. “I didn’t think I was. Crap. When Richard told me he wanted to get married and have babies right away, I panicked. No way in hell was I ready for that. The truth is…he was just the wrong guy. Because…not that I’m asking you to marry me, or anything…but I could see myself settling down with you. After I really thought about it. After I was

missing you like crazy.” “Missed you too.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not asking you to marry me either…yet…but I’m kinda glad to hear that.” She smiled, that luminous, warm smile that melted him every time. “So I was freaked-out, thinking I never should have slept with you, I’d ruined everything. And I had to move out. I’m so sorry, Marc.” She touched his face. “I realized Duncan was right. I do have to grow up. And I guess I am spoiled. I was attracted to you. I wanted you. I wasn’t thinking about your relationship with Duncan.”

“Hey.” His arms tightened around her. “You are grown up. And you’re not spoiled. You’ve showed us that with how hard you’ve worked at your business. You don’t manipulate to get your way. You just have this way about you…that makes everyone want to give you whatever you want. I saw it with Army the day you arrived. I’ve seen it with almost everyone you meet. I’ve felt it myself. You’re just… special.” She blinked at him, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “Oh wow.” She swallowed. “You do love me.” He grinned. “You didn’t believe

me?” “I did, but…” Her voice choked up. “I was thinking about what love is. And how I could just be myself with you and let you know the real, goofy, messed-up me, and you still liked me. But really, you love me, and that’s even better. I’m babbling like an idiot.” “No, you’re not.” She buried her face in the side of his neck, her breathing uneven. He could tell she was fighting tears. “Marc,” she whispered. “Oh, Marc.” He loved the sound of his name on her lips, the brush of her warm breath on his skin. He kissed the

top of her head, his lips pressing against her silky hair, his arms tightening around her. Her arms came up and slid around his neck. “When you left, it hurt even more than when Marissa dumped me,” he said quietly. “But when I thought about it, how she broke up with me because I wasn’t romantic enough, I realized it was true. I’m not. Why would you have thought I wanted more than just hot, secret sex? I never even took you on a date.” Her head whipped up to stare at him. “You thought I was the same as Marissa? Because let me just tell you this—”

“No, no. That’s not what I meant.” “She was a stupid bitch to break up with you,” she continued heatedly. “Although, I’m glad she did.” Her frown turned into a smile. “No, you’re not like Marissa. Fuck no.” He shook his head. “I just meant, I get why she said that. It wasn’t her…it was me. She said I wasn’t there for her, and…I wasn’t. Not totally. It wasn’t that I wasn’t romantic enough, it was that I hadn’t cared enough to be romantic with her. But with you…I’ve been planning all week how to show you how I feel about you. I actually got

hold of Jillian and asked her for help.” “Jillian?” “I found her on Facebook. You two are going out tomorrow night, right?” Her brow furrowed. “Yes.” “It’s a setup. You’re the one going out with me.” Her mouth dropped open. “What?” Then she started to smile. “I had to make sure you were free, so I got her in on it. I have plans for us.” Her eyes glowed. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“That, you’ll have to find out tomorrow night.” “Oooh. Make me wait. Okay. But you’re going to stay here tonight, aren’t you?”

Chapter 24 “Not going anywhere,” Marc growled. “Or only if you’re with me.” “Awesome.” He slipped his fingers beneath her chin to turn her face up toward him and touched his lips to hers. Sweet. Soft. His. Her eyes met his, then fluttered closed. He closed his too as he deepened the kiss, fingers sliding along her jaw. He loved her taste, had missed it so much. He licked

into her mouth, found her tongue, and slid his along it. He wanted to devour her, all of her, claim her. He angled his head to go deeper still, her breathing quickening, her hands tightening on his shoulders. Her mouth was soft and warm, sucking at him, and she made hot little sounds in her throat, pressing herself against him. He shifted her on his lap so she straddled him, picking her up and setting her down easily. Then he kissed her again, sliding his hips to the edge of the couch, slouching down so she was nearly lying on him. His hands went to her hips, then her ass in those

tight jeans, while their mouths ate at each other in hot, urgent, hungry kisses. Her fingers played in his hair, making his scalp tingle, making his dick hard. “Cherie,” he whispered. “Tu me rends fou. Complètement fou. Je t’aime.” “Je t’aime,” she whispered back. He tipped his head back and smiled down at her. “You’ve been learning French?” “Maybe a little.” She gave him a saucy smile. “I could learn better from you. I still have a hard time with those ‘r’s.” “We’ll work on it. You’ll want to

speak French when we go home to Rimouski.” “Gah!” He smiled and opened his mouth on the side of her neck. “Don’t worry, my parents speak English.” He used his teeth there, so gently, then touched his tongue to her skin. “T’es belle, Lovey. Mon amour. Ma belle.” She shivered and moaned. “Marc.” He slid his hands up under the thick sweatshirt, over the smooth skin of her back, then down and into the low waistband of her jeans. Her hips pulsed against his. He

didn’t want to rush this. This time was special. Important. Once more he swept his hands up her back under the shirt, this time whisking it off. He tossed it aside. Beneath it she wore that sexy, delicate lace bra, sheer with pretty scalloped edges and a pale pink bow in the middle. He traced a fingertip along the inner curve of one breast, lingering just above the bow, then up over the other side. “Beautiful.” She smiled and shook her hair back. Then he reached behind her to undo the bra. “Oh yeah.” His hands went to the button of

her jeans, then the zipper, and she rose up onto her knees so he could work them down her thighs. “This isn’t going to work,” she said breathlessly. “Nope.” Hands on her waist, he lifted her again, one arm going around her to swing her around to sit on the couch. She gave a shocked little gasp. He went to his knees on the floor in front of her and tugged her jeans off. Her black panties had matching little pink bows on each hip. And if he remembered correctly, another bow at the back, right at the top of her ass. So sweet and sexy.

The Converse came off with the jeans, her feet bare inside them. He stroked his hands up her legs, over thighs, then hips, then back down. He eased her legs apart, caressed the inside of her knees, making her twitch and gasp. “Ticklish?” “No.” “You lie.” He bent his head and kissed her there, stringing slow, openmouthed kisses from the inside of one knee up closer to the sweet softness between her legs. Her breathing became ragged and shorter. “I like these panties too.” He hooked his fingers into the

narrow ribbons at her hips and eased them down and off. “You need to get undressed too.” “Yes. Yes, I definitely do.” He surged to his feet. To his surprise, Lovey pushed herself up and stood too. She slipped the knot of his tie lower and lifted the loop over his head. “I want to do this,” she murmured. “You look so sexy in your suit.” Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, tugging it out of his pants as she got lower. “Any bruises tonight? Sore muscles?” She pressed a kiss to his chest between the sides of his shirt.

“I always have bruises and sore muscles.” “Oh.” She sighed. “You play so hard, Marc.” “I’m tough.” Her mouth curved into a sweet smile that shot straight to his heart. “Big, tough hockey player. Yeah. You pretend you’re all tough and unemotional. I know how much you care about your boys. Your team.” He wasn’t going to deny it. She knew him better than anyone, except maybe Duncan, but then she knew him in ways Duncan didn’t. She pushed the shirt off his

shoulders, following it with her mouth, leaving hot little kisses everywhere. His skin began to burn, his cock thickening even more. And then she went to her knees in front of him to undo his belt and his pants. She rubbed her cheek over his erection through the wool fabric, a look of such pleasure on her face his heart expanded hard against his sternum. He filtered his hands through her hair as she opened his pants, then pushed them and his boxers to the floor. His dick sprang up and she circled it with soft fingers. “Lovey,” he breathed. “Put your

mouth on me.” “Mmm.” She complied, first licking him all over, then kissing him, then taking him inside. Sensation poured over him and pressure built deep in his balls. He tangled his fingers in her silky strands, canting his hips to gently thrust into her mouth. Not hard… just fucking her mouth a little. She moaned her approval, cupping his balls. A shiver ran down the backs of his thighs. This was awesome, amazing…but he wanted to make love to her, to show her how he felt about her, how precious she was to him. So he

groaned as he withdrew and cupped her face. “Want to make love with you, Lovey.” She blinked at his choice of words, then smiled. “Yes.” He reached down and lifted her to her feet. “A bed would be nice.” “We can—” “No time for that. It’ll have to be the couch. For now.” She laughed as he tugged her over to it and sat. He pulled her down too and flipped her beneath him, one foot planted on the floor, the other knee in the couch

cushions. “Do I need a condom?” She gazed up at him. “I don’t know…do you?” He shook his head. “I’m good. I haven’t been with anyone but you in weeks and before that I always used protection.” “You haven’t been with anyone else since we’ve been sleeping together?” He frowned. “No. Hell no. Have you?” She rolled her eyes. “No.” “Good.” “We’re both good, then. I trust you. I’m on birth control. And I

would love to have you bare inside me.” He groaned. “Love that too.” He lifted her leg that was on the inside of the couch and pushed it up, then fisted his cock and stroked it through her pussy. Yeah. Wet. So wet. What a gift. “I always want to make you this wet. Love your sweet pussy, Lovey. Ah, yeah…” He pushed into her and her walls closed around him, scalding hot, so slick without the latex. He eased in deeper and deeper, watching her face. Once fully in, he paused, his nerves stinging with pleasure, his body pulsing with the need to come.

Their eyes met, with warmth and luminescence and love. Emotion expanded in him. He set his hand between her breasts, felt her heart jumping. “I love you.” “I love you too,” she choked out. “I really do.” He began to move, gliding in and out, heated strokes that built the fire in his balls. Sparks sizzled up his spine. “So lucky,” he muttered. “I feel so damn lucky. You’re mine.” The corners of her mouth tilted, but her eyes held his. “I’m yours. But I’m the lucky one.” He came down on top of her to kiss her, his hips rocking against

her, his tongue in her mouth, his cock inside her, filling her, again and again, getting lost in pleasure so deep he never wanted to stop. Her breast in his hand, her thigh around his hip, her pussy squeezing him so tight, pulled him deeper, deeper into mindless bliss. He only wanted her, ever. She moved with him as he drove into her, taking him deep and hard, just how she liked it, and he wanted to give her that. He wanted to give her everything. The rhythm built inside him, the tingles up his spine intensifying, all the way to his scalp, until her silky

heat and soft body took him over the edge, blood scalding his veins, the top of his head feeling like it was coming off. He groaned into her mouth and she pressed her hips up into him, her pussy rippling around him as she came too. She tightened her arms around him as if she never wanted to let him go, and he never wanted her to. “Don’t ever go,” he murmured against her lips. “Don’t ever leave again.” “I won’t.” Lovey held on tighter. “I never will. I promise.” She couldn’t hug him tight enough, couldn’t get close enough

even though they were as close as two people could possibly be with him inside her body. Tears stung her eyes and her heart worked in painful beats. Her pussy pulsed in slow aftershocks, her powerful orgasm reaching straight to her heart. “Okay. First we had sex in a bed, then on the couch. I think we did it backwards.” She huffed out a laugh. “You’re supposed to start on the couch?” “Or in a car.” She squeezed him tighter as she laughed. “We’re not teenagers.” “True.” He lifted his head, fingers

in her hair, thumb rubbing in front of her ear. His smile melted her. “Merci dieu.” “Whenever you speak French I’m going to worry you’re saying something silly and laughing at me.” His smile went a bit dirty. “I would never do that.” “You seduced me by telling me you’re allergic to cats.” His grin was unrepentant. “Hey, it worked. Does it matter what I say?” “I liked what you were saying earlier. Je t’aime.”

He kissed her nose. “It’s true. Okay. Need to move. We’ll get cleaned up, get you into something sexy to sleep in, and move that bed down.” He pushed up and off her, withdrawing in a wet slide that reminded her they hadn’t used a condom. She loved that. She sat and he pulled her up by the hands. “Bathroom?” She nodded toward the entrance, where her closet and bathroom were, and he tugged her along with him. He snagged a washcloth off a towel rack and ran the hot water until it was warm, wet the

washcloth with it, then turned to her and kissed her while he stroked the warm cloth between her legs. His kisses had her blood rushing in seconds. Then she got to watch while he used the cloth on himself, wiping his cock and balls. He dropped it to the counter and reached for a towel, which he used so gently on her and then again himself. “Now for the sexy sleepwear,” he murmured, turning her. She knew just the one—the apricot silk nightie she’d bought and never had a chance to wear for him. Tonight she was going to get

her wish—they would sleep together all night. Finally. And it wasn’t going to be just sexy, like she’d said. It was going to be…significant. Because it was more than sex. And it was more than sleeping. It was intimate and trusting and…okay, “sacred” might be too strong a word. They weren’t exchanging marriage vows. But this was special and important. And still sexy. She slipped the silk nightie on, smoothing the lace edge on her thighs, and looked at Marc. “Oh yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.”

She dipped her chin, smiling. “Glad you like it.” He reached for her waist. “The only time I saw what you sleep in, it was a skimpy top and little shorts.” “That is what I usually sleep in. What’s wrong with that?” “Not a thing. Except that when I saw you in it, I developed a massive hard-on.” She laughed. “Oh good.” He gave her butt a little swat that surprisingly made her pussy tingle. “Tease. You were totally teasing me, walking around in that, weren’t you?”

“I was not. Well. I knew you were looking. And I wanted you to look. And…” She fluttered her eyelashes, letting herself be honest and vulnerable. “I wanted you to like what you saw.” “I definitely did.” They shoved the couch practically into her kitchen and wrestled the mattress and box spring down to the floor. Lovey found sheets and together they stretched the fitted one over the mattress, then arranged the top sheet and duvet she’d been using on the couch. She added a couple of pillows and turned out the lights, and they

climbed in. It was crazy. They were crammed into her tiny apartment, with boxes she still hadn’t unpacked, too much furniture, bare walls…but it felt beautiful. She snuggled into him as she had so many times, as usual sighing with pleasure at the feel of his body against hers, the heat of him, the roughness of the hair on his skin, the perfect fit of them together. She twined her legs with his and he wrapped his arms around her. “I thought you were all stiff and serious when we first met.” She snuggled into him in the dark.

“Every time I made you smile or laugh, I think I fell a little bit in love with you.” His fingers stroked her arm. “That’s funny, because every time you made me smile or laugh, I think I fell a bit in love with you. Don’t belittle yourself, Lovey. Your tattoo is important. Living and laughing and loving…those things really are what it’s all about.” “I want to be more serious, like you. Focused. Determined.” “Sure. Those are good qualities. But I want to have more fun, and you make almost everything fun. Goals are great. But you can’t take

everything too seriously. You helped me see that.” “Oh.” She sniffled. “That’s so sweet.” “That’s me. Such a sweet guy.” She smiled against his chest and petted it. “You totally are. Even with bruised knuckles and a black eye. Captain Codger with a soft side. A fun side. I love you.” “Love you too.” — Excitement curled inside Lovey as she waited in her apartment for Marc to arrive for their date. Not

only was she excited about going out with him on an actual date, she was excited about the news she had to tell him. She’d called Jillian and told her she knew about the date now. Jillian had a million questions she was bursting to ask, but hadn’t been able to since Marc had sworn her to secrecy. When Lovey told her what had happened, she was beside herself with excitement. Lovey didn’t know where they were going, but he’d told her to dress warmly. Warmly? Did that mean something outside? It was

December and colder than Mars. What could they do outside? Plus, she wanted to look nice for their first ever date. So selecting her outfit had been a challenge. She’d gone with black leggings, knee-high, flat-heeled black boots, and a long, lean sweater in an ochre-gold color. She looped a thick infinity scarf in shades of gold, yellow, and green around her throat, and since he’d said warm, she added her olive green wool pea jacket, with a pair of gloves tucked in her purse. When Marc buzzed, she hurried down to meet him at the front door

of the building. He wore his black leather thigh-length jacket, a black crew-necked sweater beneath it, and black jeans. “Man in black,” she said. “I like it.” He grinned and handed her a rose from behind his back, not the expected red but a gorgeous orangeshading into peach-shading into yellow at the center. “Oh…that is so nice. It’s beautiful.” “It reminds me of your hair.” She blinked and lowered her chin. Her hair was not orange. But yeah, she knew what he meant. And it

was sweet. He set his hand on the small of her back and directed her to the car parked at the curb. A freakin’ stretch limo. Her eyes widened. “Whoa.” The driver held the door open for her and she smiled as she thanked him and stepped inside. She gazed around in wonder. “I’ve only been in a limo once before. When Duncan started playing with the Aces, Mom and Dad and I came to see one of his games and he rented a limo to take us out for dinner.” “It’s a good way to get around.” Marc slid an arm along the back of

the seat behind her. “No worries about parking or trying to find a taxi when you want to go home.” “Do I get to know where we’re going?” “Not yet. How about a glass of champagne?” She eyed the bottle in the ice bucket and the fluted glasses. “That would be lovely.” Marc poured them both a glass, then touched his to hers in a gentle toast. “To us.” “Marc. This is…” Her throat closed up. She sipped her champagne, letting the bubbles sting their way down. “Delicious.”

She paused. “The champagne is nice because I have something to celebrate tonight.” “Oh yeah?” She nodded. “I heard from Panache Clothing today. I got the contract with them.” His eyes widened. “Seriously? That’s fantastic! I know how much you wanted that job.” “Yes.” Excitement sparkled through her veins like the champagne. “It’s my biggest client yet. When I tell other potential clients that I work with them, it will be so impressive. And it’s big money.” She bit her lip.

“Congratulations.” He leaned in and touched his mouth to hers. “So proud of you.” “Thank you. I have something else in the works too.” “Yeah?” She hesitated to tell him. “Yes. It’s super cool, but I want it to be a done deal before I tell anyone.” “What? You’re just going to torture me?” He smiled. “You can’t do that.” “Yes I can.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “But you’ll tell me first, right?” She laughed. “Of course.”

They drank champagne and talked and shared a few hot but restrained kisses on the short drive. The limo stopped, the driver jumped out to open the door for them, and they emerged onto Navy Pier. She looked at Marc with a raised eyebrow, and he just smiled. This was cool. Whatever they were going to do. Dinner? Whatever. It was cool. They strolled down the pier. Here on the water, the breeze was definitely chillier. No wonder he’d said to dress warmly. Marc led her to the boats docked at the side, to

one boat in particular, a large, elegant vessel with an upper and lower deck. A man in a uniform waited for them and greeted Marc. “Good evening, Mr. Dupuis. Welcome aboard.” Wide-eyed, Lovey followed them up the ramp that led to the boat. Inside it was warmer. A table had been set with a white cloth, sparkling glasses, and silver, and a vase with three more of the goldenorange roses. Soft jazz music played over a sound system. “We’re going on a boat cruise?” she asked Marc. “Yeah. A river cruise. We’ll have

dinner. Some more champagne. Maybe dance a little.” “Just us?” “Yeah.” “On this whole boat?” “Yeah.” “Oh wow.” He grinned. “They’re going to be calling me Captain Romance after this.” “Oh, Marc.” She floated over to him and set her hands on his chest. “You are romantic. I mean, this… this is amazing. Definitely romantic. But I think it’s romantic when you put your hand on my ass

when we’re lying in bed half-asleep. Or when you do the dishes for me after I cook supper.” His eyes crinkled up at the corners. “Good to know.” “This is way cool for a first date.” “It doesn’t really feel like our first date.” “I know. Maybe we did do things backwards.” They shared a long, warm smile. The food was amazing, the views of the night skyline spectacular. They slow danced to some sexy music. They got a little buzzed on expensive champagne.

She had no idea how much something like this cost, but the effort Marc had gone to, to make this special, meant much more to her than the money he’d spent. “Best date ever,” she told him as they strolled arm in arm back along the pier to their limo. “Not over yet.” “Ooookay.” The limo’s next stop was the Waldorf Astoria hotel. Lovey gazed around the incredible lobby. Marc headed straight to the elevators, pulling a key card from his pocket. “Checked in earlier.” In their room, she was

speechless. “We’ll have lots of room tonight.” He grinned and nodded at the huge bed. She took in the bright white bed linens, the sleek furniture and lamps, the sitting area with plush dark gray furniture arranged in front of a fireplace, a fire already burning there. More orange-gold roses filled big white vases on the dresser and desk. “Holy crap.”

Chapter 25 “Are we staying here all night?” Lovey turned big eyes on him. “Yep.” Marc smiled and moved toward her. “I didn’t bring anything with me.” “I picked up a few things. Hopefully enough. And much as I liked that little peach nightie, you don’t need anything to sleep in.” “I am never letting you go.” She threw herself into his arms. “Excellent.” He kissed her hair. “We’re stuck with each other. Now

let’s get these clothes off.” They stepped apart to get rid of coats and scarves, tossing them into one of the armchairs, removing boots and setting them aside also. “More champagne?” She eyed the bucket on the coffee table. Two fluted glasses sat next to it. “Yep.” “Are you trying to get me drunk?” He laughed and pulled the dripping bottle out of the ice bucket. “Is it working?” “I may be a little tipsy. Or maybe I’m just deliriously happy.” She smiled and moved to the fireplace,

stretching her hands out toward it. “Oh, that’s nice and warm.” She looked so beautiful, with the flames illuminating her bright hair and her slender curves silhouetted. For a few seconds he just stared at her, emotion fizzing in his chest like the champagne. He blinked and looked down at the bottle in his hands. He popped the cork out easily and poured them each a glass. He handed her one, then clinked them gently together. “I love you, Lovey.” “Love you too.” Their eyes met as they lifted the glasses to their mouths.

“Now, this really is the best date ever.” They sat in front of the fire, sipping wine, talking, touching, kissing. He was glad he’d made her happy. He wanted to spend the rest of his life making her happy. He wanted to make her happy now. He carefully set their glasses aside and led her to the bed. He undressed her first, kissing her skin as he revealed it, then pulled off his own clothes. He tumbled them onto the big bed. Her body rippled under his hands as she gave herself to him, and he got lost in the feel of

her, in the heat, in the sweetness and erotic pleasure. Emotion swelled inside him, powerful and huge. Her hands reached for him and her soft murmurs of pleasure had heat pouring over his body, liquid pleasure running through his veins. They rolled and twisted together, mouths fused in long, endless kisses, hands all over each other. She bit his shoulder gently, licked his skin, and made him burn everywhere. He worshipped her with his mouth, his tongue, his hands. He found her soft, wet center and rubbed his thumb over

her clit until she vibrated. “So glad we don’t need a condom.” He kissed her throat as she quivered against him. “Want to be inside you, bare.” “Yes. Please.” He moved over her, buried his face in the side of her neck, breathed in that sweet cupcake scent. His chest clenched and he struggled for breath, then levered himself up above her. Her lips parted and her eyes gazed up at him, her hands on his chest. Their gazes held for a long moment while heat built and shimmered around them. His heart

thudded in a slow, heavy rhythm in his chest. He lifted her thigh, pushed inside her, and his bare flesh met hers, hot and wet. Her body surrounded him and tightened around him, and sensation poured over him, overwhelmingly intimate. He moved inside her, sliding in and out of her silky heat as her body squeezed him, her hands pressed to his chest. His gaze was riveted to her face, the perfect oval of it, her mouth shiny in the firelight, her eyes full of longing and love and devotion. He thrust deeper, harder, watching

her eyelids drift closed, drinking in her hot whimpers and the soft sighs that built to a climax of pleasure. He’d never seen anything as gorgeous as watching Lovey come, her body tightening, her pussy rippling around him, and it undid him. The surge of sensation and emotion inside him was almost unbearable. He sank into her softness, one achingly sweet sensation building on another. Pleasure expanded through his chest, swelling inside him. He fell on her with a long groan, their bodies melting together. Her hands slid over him and she moved

against him, beneath him, with him, around him. She was everything to him. “Je t’aime,” he whispered. “Tu es pour moi la plus belle.” “I love it when you speak French to me.” And he smiled.

Epilogue “You going home for Christmas?” Marc looked over at Army at his question. They were each sprawled out on one of his couches, Rosser in one of the armchairs, all of them watching Duck Dynasty, eating pretzels, and drinking root beer. Oh right. Christmas. Only a couple of weeks away. They had four days off this year, from the twenty-third to the twenty-eighth, but he’d been so distracted with what was going on with him and

Lovey, not to mention their losing streak, he hadn’t even thought about it. Now he guiltily remembered his mom’s email asking about that, which he still hadn’t replied to. He winced inwardly. “I should. My mom wants me to.” He paused. “I’m trying to convince Lovey to come with me.” Army frowned. “But then she won’t be home for Christmas. I mean, our home.” “I know. She’s having a hard time deciding what to do. Doesn’t want to let your parents down.” Army pursed his lips. “Well, I

guess this is what happens when the kids grow up. We’ve never had Christmas apart.” “Never?” “Nope.” Marc grinned. “You talk like she’s such a big pain in your ass, but you love your little sister.” Army grimaced and rubbed the back of his head. “Of course I love her.” He glanced at Marc. “You could come to the farm.” “Lovey said that too. Don’t know what your folks would think about that.” “They fucking love you. They love

you more than they love me.” “That’s understandable.” Army threw a pretzel at him and Rosser snorted. Marc grinned. “How about you, Rosser?” Army looked at their teammate. “Going home for Christmas? You’re from… Maine…right?” “Wrong.” Rosser shot another pretzel Armdog’s way. “Connecticut. Greenfield. Little place just outside Hartford. And yeah, I’m going there for Christmas.” “Big family?” “Uh…” Rosser’s face tightened. “Sort of. They’re kind of my adopted

family. They took me in when I was sixteen and my own family fell apart.” “Ah. That sucks, man.” Rosser shrugged. “That was a long time ago. The MacFaddens are good people. It’ll be cool to see everyone.” “Sounds good. But seriously, this is a tough decision.” Marc returned to their discussion about where he and Lovey should spend Christmas. “Don’t want to let my folks down either. And a French-Canadian Christmas would be cool for Lovey.” “Maybe you should go home and Lovey should come to the farm with

me.” Marc frowned. “You think we should spend our first Christmas together apart?” Wait, that didn’t sound right. Whatever. “It won’t kill you, for fuck’s sake.” Marc scowled at his friend. “Dude.” “What?” “Are you taking Melissa to the farm for Christmas?” “Fuck no.” Army’s forehead furrowed. “See, you don’t get it. I want to spend Christmas with Lovey.” “Aw. How sweet. When did you

turn into Captain Romance?” “Ha. I knew that was coming.” The dig didn’t even bother him. “I believe you once insinuated that I was whipped by my own sister. Well, look at you.” Army lifted his arm in a cracking-thewhip motion and made the corresponding noise. “See, that didn’t even bother me. Because I’m not whipped. I want to be with her.” “Gag.” Army guzzled some root beer from the can. “We all end up whipped to some degree. When we’re young and single and we see a guy who just

wants to stay home and fuck his girlfriend instead of coming out with us, we don’t get it. But of course he wants to stay home and fuck his girlfriend. That’s why he has a girlfriend.” “I don’t like where this conversation is going.” “I’m talking in generalities.” Marc waved a hand. “Anyway, one day you’ll understand.” “Again, gag.” Army paused. “Hey, I know. Rock, paper, scissors.” Marc laughed. “Fuck off.” “Okay, we’ll arm wrestle.” “You know you’ll lose.”

The door of Army’s condo opened and closed and Lovey appeared. She rushed in, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes sparkling. “Guess what!” She paused and beamed a smile at Rosser. “Oh, hi, Andrew.” “Hey, Lovey.” Marc smiled and sat up straight. “What, baby?” “Remember I said I had another potential client?” “The one you wouldn’t tell me about?” “Yes! I got the job!” She actually jumped up and down in her highheeled boots, clapping her gloved hands.

“Who is it?” Marc rose off the couch and strolled over to her. “The Aces!” Army sat up too, frowning. “What? The Chicago Aces?” “Yes!” She beamed at them. Marc wrapped her in a big hug. “Congratulations, baby. That’s fantastic!” She hugged him back. “I know!” “Congratulations,” Rosser said. “How did that come about?” Army asked. “Marc, remember that night at the grand opening of Fowler School, we were talking to Mick Rooney?”

She looked at Duncan and explained, “Marc told him I was helping him with his social media stuff, and he asked me a bunch of questions about my business. Well, apparently he was curious and started following me on Twitter and Instagram and Facebook, and he and Colby started checking out some of my clients to see the work I’m doing.” She grinned. “They really like my tweets for Kleinheinz Cheese.” Marc laughed. “So that’s what they’re hiring me for. To give all the guys social media training and work with

Communications on their various social media platforms.” “Wow, Lovey.” Army stood too. “That’s great.” “Thank you.” She met her brother’s eyes. “Are you impressed?” “I am,” he admitted, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “You’re doing great with your business, Lovey.” Her smile beamed out. “Yes.” Then she sighed. “I’m so relieved.” Marc hugged her again. “I knew you could do it.” “Hmm. I’m not so sure you were

convinced of that at first.” “Well, it didn’t take me long to see that you’re capable of anything you set your mind to.” Her lips trembled and he brushed his mouth over hers. “You are. I believe in you.” She shoved her face into the side of his neck and squeezed him tighter. “I love you.” He stroked a hand down her silky hair. “Love you too, baby.” Army groaned behind them. “Jesus.” They both turned and grinned at him, arms still around each other. Rosser looked amused, still reclined

in the armchair, crunching on a pretzel. “Hey,” Army said. “We were just talking about Christmas. What are you gonna do, Lovey?” She bit her lip. “I’m not sure. I guess we better decide, huh?” She undid the belt of her coat, then unbuttoned it, moving into the center of the room. “Army wants you home for Christmas.” Marc chuckled inwardly. “He’ll miss you if you’re not there.” Army glared at him. Then he shrugged. “Hell, it’s true. You kinda make things fun.”

Lovey looked at Marc with big eyes. “I feel so torn. I know you want to see your family.” “Hey, you know what? This year the All-Star Game’s in Montreal. That’s pretty close to home. My parents will for sure come and see it.” “Assuming you make the All-Star team, jackass,” Army muttered. Marc paused. “Well, yeah.” “Of course you will.” Lovey frowned at her brother. “You both will.” “Eh.” Army shrugged. “The way our team’s playing, not so sure of that. But whatever.”

“Well, even if I don’t make the team, we can go to the game. And see my parents then.” “That’s late January, right?” Lovey tipped her head. “Yeah. I forget the exact dates right now. So we’ll go see your parents for Christmas.” Marc caught Army’s grin before Lovey threw her arms around him again. “You are so getting lucky tonight.” “Jesus,” Army grunted. “And once again, what Lovey wants, Lovey gets.” Lovey’s head lifted and she shot her brother a glare. “I thought you

wanted me to come home for Christmas?” “Uh. Yeah. Right.” “So really, you’re getting what you wanted.” Marc laughed. Câlisse, he loved her. She lived up to those words tattooed on her pretty torso—live, laugh, love—and had brought that into his world too. He wanted to live and laugh and love her for the rest of their lives. He brushed his mouth near her ear. “Tu es ma joie de vivre.” She smiled at him. “Merci. Je t’aime aussi.”

To my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, and editor, Sue Grimshaw—thank you for loving my Chicago Aces and for helping to make these books better. Also big thanks to everyone in my Sweet Heat Reader Group for all the support, encouragement, and entertainment you give me.

BY KELLY JAMIESON Aces Hockey Major Misconduct Off Limits Icing Top Shelf

PHOTO: LANCE THOMSON PHOTOGRAPHIC

KELLY JAMIESON is a bestselling author of over thirty-five romance novels and novellas. Her writing has been described as “emotionally complex,” “sweet and satisfying,” and “blisteringly sexy.” She likes coffee (black), wine (mostly white), shoes (high), and of course

watching hockey! kellyjamieson.com

Facebook.com/KellyJamiesonRoman @KellyJamieson

The Editor’s Corner Another month of new Loveswept romance books is here! I know you’ll adore this selection of stories chosen just for you… USA Today bestselling author Claire Kent continues her emotionally charged story of longing, betrayal, and insatiable desire with Darker the Release, sequel to Sweet the Sin. Another Loveswept USA Today bestseller, Lauren Layne, introduces her new Oxford series with Irresistibly Yours. Wendy S. Marcus’s latest

sexy yet sweet military romance, All I Need Is You, releases this month as well. Then there’s another Friends First story from USA Today bestseller Laura Drewry, How Forever Feels. USA Today bestseller Stacey Kennedy finishes up her successful BDSM Club Sin series with Mine, simultaneously introducing her next series of erotic play, Dungeon’s Key, and hot hero Micah. We’re back on the ice with the first in the Aces Hockey series from Kelly Jamieson, Major Misconduct. Ladies, hold on to your hearts, the Caldwell Brothers are here—USA

Today bestselling author MJ Fields and Chelsea Camaron want you to meet Hendrix, the first book in a series about three alpha men who live up to their legendary names. Last, something a little different— bear-shifters anyone? An alpha hero to the extreme, hot highlander Ronan is all that you could want in Bearing It All by Vonnie Davis, perfect for fans of Jennifer Ashley and Shelly Laurenston. Fabulous variety with a book for everyone, yes? I hope you’ve found your book boyfriend in this month’s releases. However, if you haven’t, fear not, as November’s hot lineup

is just around the corner. Until then… Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel Associate Publisher

Read on for an excerpt from

Off Limits An Aces Hockey Novella

by Kelly Jamieson

Available from Loveswept

Chapter 1 “My family is like fudge.” “What?” Jon gave me a sidelong frown, driving down I-91. “How so?” “They’re mostly sweet, but with lots of nuts.” I bit my lip on a smile. Jon laughed. “Tell me again who’s coming?” “How can you be such a brilliant accountant and not remember people’s names?” “I have other talents.” Jon’s eyes crinkled up at the corners as he looked straight ahead out the

windshield. It amused me that my new boyfriend could never remember names, because he’s super smart and talented, an associate director in Financial Planning and Analysis at HMNC, where we both worked. But names escape him. As do birthdays and anniversaries. Not that he’d forgotten my birthday, which wasn’t until June, and we hadn’t had an anniversary yet, but he’d forgotten his sister’s birthday and his parents’ anniversary. Not the worst flaw in a man who is kind and smart and successful. Right? After the two-ish-hour drive from

Manhattan, we were almost at our destination—my parents’ home in Greenfield, Connecticut, just outside Hartford. For the first time ever, I was bringing a boyfriend home for the holidays. This was somewhat nervewracking, although Jon didn’t seem too stressed about it. He was laid back about pretty much everything, which was nice. My dad and two older brothers were bossy, overprotective alpha males, so having a boyfriend who basically let me do whatever I wanted and didn’t get worked up about things was kind of nice.

The bossy, overprotective part might be why I was a wee bit nervous about bringing Jon home to meet my family. I’d actually been surprised when Jon had suggested he come home with me for Christmas. We’d been seeing each other a few months and I liked him a lot. Maybe I was even falling a little in love with him. I wasn’t sure. There were things I really liked about him—we worked for the same company, so he understood my job, he was smart and kind, honest and thoughtful. If at times he thought a little too much before doing anything, that

was better than making crazy, impulsive decisions or acting rashly. He definitely wasn’t the life of the party, but who wanted that? Quiet and steady were also good qualities. So bringing him home for Christmas seemed like a big step to me, but hey, he wanted to be with me over Christmas and that was nice. “Okay, who’ll be there…my parents, Brenda and Gary. My oldest brother, Daniel, and his wife, Emily, and their new baby, Christopher, who is the reason for everyone coming home for Christmas. My other brother,

Connor, and my sort-of brother, Andrew.” “Andrew’s the guy your parents took in when he was…how old?” “He was sixteen.” I stared out the window, a faint ache in my chest as I thought about Andrew. I’d only told Jon that Andrew had lost his own family and had come to live with us. I hadn’t told him anything about that weekend in college. I hadn’t told anyone about that weekend in college. I closed my eyes briefly, memories flooding back. I had to push those away, though. I’d been

avoiding Andrew for years and it was time to get past that old shit and move on with my life. I had a new boyfriend who was a very nice man and I was excited to be seeing my family. “That was nice of your parents to do that.” I turned and blinked at Jon. “Um, yeah. Andrew and Connor were best friends and played on the same hockey team. My dad was his hockey coach. Andrew was practically another son to my dad even before he came to live with us.” “Neither he nor Connor is

married?” “No.” I wrinkled my nose. “Connor’s not seeing anyone right now. Andrew has a girlfriend but I don’t know if he’s bringing her with him.” I’d never met this girlfriend, but I’d seen pictures of her—blond and gorgeous. Being a handsome hockey player in the NHL made Andrew’s dating life very public. And he’d had a lot of dates. Not that I cyberstalked him or anything. But since I hadn’t seen him for almost two years and we didn’t keep in touch other than the odd Facebook like or comment, that was the only way I

had of knowing what was going on with him. Other than occasional updates from my mom—although by the time she’d told me that he’d been traded to Chicago I’d already known that. Same when he’d won the James Norris Memorial Trophy after his last team had won the Stanley Cup. “Huh.” “Our exit is coming up next.” “Okay, good.” It wasn’t much longer before we were pulling up in front of my parents’ home, the house I’d grown up in, a big gray colonial with white window frames, black shutters, and

a bright red door. It was the perfect house for Martha Stewart decorating, but alas, my mother is not Martha Stewart. A wreath we’d had since I was about two hung on the front door, looking tattered and worn, and a garland haphazardly draped the stair railings. A thick blanket of snow lay over the lawn, but the front sidewalk and steps and the long driveway to the garage at the back of the house had been neatly shoveled. A shiver of excited happiness ran through me at being home, about to see my family—and it was Christmas! I loved Christmas! Also,

we didn’t see one another enough. Greenfield wasn’t far from New York City but my life was busy so I didn’t get home very often, and my parents weren’t much into the big city. My brother Connor still lived in Greenfield, but Daniel and Emily now resided in Boston, and they were bringing three-month-old baby Christopher home to Greenfield for the first time. My brothers had tormented me my entire life, but I knew they always had my back despite the practical jokes and frequent insults, and I loved them too. And my parents…well, they were unique.

They’d been married nearly thirtyfive years, so they must be doing something right, and they’d been great parents, though definitely not Ward and June Cleaver. Jon reached into the trunk of his Mercedes and pulled out our bags. His was carry-on size and he shook his head over my huge suitcase. “Still don’t know what you’ve got in there.” “It’s all Christmas presents,” I lied. Well, there were a few presents, but I’d already shipped most of my gifts. The truth was, I had no idea how to pack light for anything, and even though we were

going to be in Greenfield for only five days, I’d managed to fit in most of my winter wardrobe. We’d be going out and doing things, seeing extended family and my old friend from high school Leesha, and going to church, and Mom was having an open house the day after Christmas, so I needed a selection of outfits. Plus, it didn’t matter if you were staying over one night or ten, you still needed the whole bag of makeup. The front door opened and Mom appeared out on the veranda. I gave a little squeal and ran to her, jumping up the wide steps to meet

her in a big hug. “Jenna!” She hugged me back, and we stood for a minute like that, my heart brimming. “So good to see you, honey.” “You too, Mom.” I gave her one last squeeze and moved away. “Mom, this is Jon. Jon, my mom, Brenda.” Jon moved up the stairs and shook Mom’s hand with an easy smile. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. MacFadden.” “Call me Brenda. I’m happy to meet you too, Jon. Welcome to our home.” Mom’s smile was warm but I

could feel her assessing Jon, taking a measure of her daughter’s new boyfriend. I’d never had a lot of boyfriends. Dad had been strict about his only daughter dating, and had made sure that Daniel and Connor kept an eye on me anytime I was around boys. I’d dated a few guys in high school. Not so much in college. When I moved to New York after graduation, I hadn’t known many people, so my dating life had been nonexistent. About six months ago —okay, I know exactly when it was, but who’s keeping track—I decided I really needed to make an effort to

meet someone, and I’d signed up for an online dating service. Other girls at work were doing it, going out on a couple of dates a week, so why not? I had nothing to lose other than a few hours of my free time if a date turned out to be a total bust. I’d met a lot of great guys. Really great guys. In fact, I’d become friends with most of them. Which tells you exactly how much spark there’d been with them, sadly. So I had a big circle of male friends in various walks of life…but no boyfriend. Until I’d met Jon.

I knew Mom was taking in his height, just over six feet, his high forehead and intelligent blue eyes, his nice manners and impeccable clothes. I also knew she was wondering how Jon was going to fit in with my dad, a retired police officer; my brother Connor, now a firefighter; and my other brother Daniel, a police detective in Boston. Not to mention Andrew, a pro hockey player. We were about to find out. We stepped into the house and a burst of laughter from the kitchen greeted us, along with the faint scent of pine. “Play That Funky

Music” by Wild Cherry blasted from speakers somewhere. I rolled my eyes, but it secretly amused me. My parents’ taste in music was firmly stuck in the seventies. I needed to plug my iPod into those speakers when nobody was looking and get my Christmas playlist going to get us in the holiday spirit. We paused in the foyer to hang our jackets on the old oak coatrack, already laden with outerwear, then passed by the living room with the big tree in the corner sitting bare and undecorated, following the loud voices and laughter to the kitchen. An addition on the back of the

house created a great room with big windows overlooking the snowy backyard, where Daniel and Connor had beat me up on many occasions. I exaggerate. But there were times they’d chased me with spiders, and the time they’d tied me to the swing set and left me swinging helplessly. Andrew had rescued me that day. “They’re here!” Mom announced and everyone turned. It took me two seconds to know that Andrew wasn’t there yet. I linked my arm with Jon’s to draw him into the room. “Everyone, this is Jon. Jon, this is my family.” Dad moved toward me and kissed

the top of my head. “Hey, Bugsy. Good to see you.” I gave him a punch on the shoulder, which I knew he preferred to a hug and a kiss, and did an eye roll at the nickname. “You too, Dad.” My brothers and I likewise exchanged head rubs and shoulder pats. They all shook Jon’s hand with narrow-eyed looks and several firm arm pumps. Then my sister-inlaw, Emily, approached with the baby. “Thankfully another woman,” she murmured, giving me a one-armed hug.

I grinned and hugged her back. “We’ll stick together. And here’s my new nephew!” I peered down at the wrapped, sleeping bundle. “You couldn’t have given me a niece? Seriously, Em, another girl in the family would have been appreciated.” She laughed. “I think you’ll have to blame your brother for that.” “Can I hold him?” I stared at the tiny face, watching in fascination as it scrunched up, then relaxed. “Sure.” She passed over the bundle and I settled Christopher into my arms. Heat rushed to my chest at holding this little being and

I couldn’t stop looking at him. I touched the blanket with my forefinger and eased it back from his face, taking in perfect ears, the sweetest nose, and thick, dark hair. “Aren’t you handsome. Such a perfect, handsome boy. He’s got the MacFadden hair.” I brushed my fingers over his silky head. “And nose. As in, no nose.” Both my brothers and I had very small noses, taking after our mom, which I figured was a lot better than getting our dad’s big honker. On him, sixthree and two hundred pounds, it looked fine. It probably would’ve looked good on Daniel and Connor,

who were similar in size. But on me, a pipsqueak compared to them, as they’d told me numerous times, it would’ve been a certain trip to a plastic surgeon. Or who knows, maybe I would have loved it. My heart swelled as Christopher’s tiny lips pursed. I blinked back a little sting in the corners of my eyes and looked up at Daniel. “He’s so beautiful. I can’t believe you made this, you big ugly doodoohead.” Daniel burst out laughing and Christopher flinched. I rocked him a little. “Looks good on you.” My eyes flew open at that voice

and my hurt lurched to a full stop. I swallowed hard and turned to see Andrew standing in the kitchen doorway, obviously having come in behind us. He smiled and nodded at the baby in my arms, his eyes warm, the corners crinkled so attractively, the deep dimples in his cheeks evident. Our eyes met. For the space of several seconds, the world dropped away as I held his gaze and I couldn’t look away. Could not. Then his words sank in. I looked back at the baby, horrified. “God no!” I handed Christopher to his mother. “He’s

cute, but I don’t want one of those.” Everyone laughed and Emily snuggled her baby into her arms again. I sucked in a breath and rubbed my palms over my thighs. “I didn’t know you were here yet, Andrew.” “Flew in late last night right after the game.” “Ah.” I stared at him. “Um. Right.” I should, um, hug him. Or punch him. I moved toward him, not sure which of those it was going to be. He held out his arms and I stepped close enough for us to do a tiny air hug. Then I remembered Jon. “Oh, let me introduce you.” I

touched Jon’s arm and he extended a hand, smiling. “This is my boyfriend, Jon Booth. John, Andrew Ross.” A peculiar expression crossed Andrew’s face, fleeting, barely there, his head jerking a little, eyes tightening. But he smiled and shook Jon’s hand. None of the overprotective sizing up that my dad and brothers had done appeared on his face, just that wide, friendly smile. “Good to meet you, Jon.” “Likewise.” “Everyone’s here!” Mom clapped her hands and closed her eyes

briefly. “I’m so happy.” “I’m hungry,” Daniel said. Christopher chose that moment to start wailing. “Like father, like son.” Emily bounced her son gently. “Come on, little guy, let’s go see how that diaper is.” “We can have lunch anytime.” Mom moved to the fridge. “I’ll just put out some cold cuts and bread to make sandwiches. Jenna, come help me.” “Why me? Why can’t Connor help?” Wow, I was reverting back to childhood after being back in the family home less than half an hour.

“ ’Cause you’re a girl.” Connor joined me in my regression. “Cooking is girl’s work.” We all ignored that because we totally knew he didn’t mean it. Mom had been very careful to raise all of us without gender-specific ideas about household tasks. The boys had cooked meals and scrubbed toilets as much as I had, and Dad had taught me to check my oil and tire pressure and had made me take my turn cutting the grass. Even Andrew had never complained about having to do that stuff, but then, his place in our home had been a little different.

I grabbed some tomatoes and started slicing them on a cutting board while everyone else moved into action, everyone except Dad, that is. Dad didn’t cook. Ever. I still remembered the day Daniel had called him a hypocrite because he made his sons learn how to cook but he refused to boil water. Dad had been furious and had slammed Daniel into the wall and told him to do as he said, not as he did. They’d both been incensed, and now, in hindsight, I was pretty sure Dad was so angry because Daniel had actually been right. Also, because the reason we’d had

to learn how to cook was that Mom was an atrocious cook. Dad was a tough, strict disciplinarian who took no crap from his kids. He also loved us beyond measure, so even though there’d been lots of rebellion and shouting, door-slamming fights (mostly between Dad and Daniel— we figured Daniel kind of eased the way for the rest of us), we respected him for the values he’d tried to teach us. Daniel grabbed a big bag of potato chips and dumped them into a bowl, while Connor sliced rolls in half and Andrew set jars of pickles,

mustard, and mayo on the counter. Okay, everybody was helping except Jon, who naturally wasn’t familiar with the kitchen and sat on a stool at the small island, a little apart from everyone, smiling faintly at the affectionate insults being tossed around. “For the love of goats, someone needs to change that music,” I said as the song shifted to David Bowie singing “Fame.” “This is a classic.” Mom frowned at me over the eyeglasses perched on the tip of her little nose. “Good song for a hotshot hockey star.” Connor smirked at Andrew.

Andrew gave him the finger—with his back turned to Mom so she couldn’t see. Connor threw a bun at Andrew, who caught it with flashy reflexes and a grin. “Hey, hey, no throwing food, boys.” Mom waved a hand. “Kind of hard to believe I’m sitting in a kitchen with an NHL player.” Jon leaned his elbows on the island. “You a hockey fan?” Andrew asked casually. I sent Jon a curious glance as I separated some lettuce leaves. He wasn’t much into sports, although we’d gone to a Rangers game when

he’d taken clients out with the company tickets. “I watch some games,” Jon said. “You play for the Chicago Aces, right?” “Right. First season there.” “That was a good game last night,” Connor said. “Volkov should’ve gotten a penalty for that hit on you in the third.” I hadn’t watched the game and I shot Andrew a glance. “What happened?” “Dirty hit from behind,” Connor answered for him. “Right on the numbers. Asshole.”

“He is an asshole.” Andrew circled his shoulders and winced. “Still feeling that one. But I’m okay. It’ll be nice to have a few days off.” “How long do you have?” I set a stack of plates on the counter. “Next game’s on the twentyseventh.” I nodded. We’d all come home a few days before Christmas. Jon and I were staying until the twentyseventh, but I knew Daniel and Emily were leaving on December twenty-sixth. “Home game?” Jon asked. “Yeah. I’ve got a flight back that morning.”

“You found a nice apartment to live in?” Mom asked. “We need to come visit you sometime.” “Mom. You won’t come to New York to see me. Why will you go to Chicago to see Andrew?” I was only half teasing. “We’ve seen your apartment.” Mom gave me a look over her glasses again. “We’ve never seen Andrew’s. He just moved there a few months ago.” “It’s okay.” Andrew flashed Mom a grin. “It’s in a safe neighborhood.” “Well, good.” As if a guy earning millions of dollars a year was going to end up

living in some crappy apartment in a bad neighborhood. But it was nice that Mom cared. I knew how much that meant to Andrew. I bent my head and moved some forks around as a little lance of pain flashed through me.

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