Chapter Seven

 

“Here you go, sweet cheeks, one white wine, a glass of sparkling water and some salty nuts.”

“Would you stop calling me sweet cheeks?” I tucked the stained white cloth into my new bag and stretched my sore leg onto the adjacent seat.

Dustin sat in front of me, then spent a few seconds folding his long legs beneath the table and settling himself on the small wrought iron chair. He then propped his elbows on a bright-pink placemat and popped open the bag of nuts.

“I’m sorry, it’s not very appropriate, is it?” He grinned and threw some cashews into his mouth. “Sweet cheeks, that is.”

He managed to look contrite and unapologetic all at the same time. For once it didn’t annoy me, it just seemed to enhance his looks, add dimension to his personality and make me melt a little for him.

I smiled and reached for the water. “No, not considering the circumstances it isn’t.” Had he finally come to his senses that calling his boss—the woman who signed on the dotted line each month for his wages—“sweet cheeks” was not acceptable? I doubted it. Not really. He was going easy on me, considering what had just happened. That was kind of him I guessed.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Dustin said, taking a sip of beer.

A thin line of foam sat in the stubble above his top lip. I studied it, not having to imagine too hard what it would be like to run my tongue over that part of his anatomy. Not that I ever would again.

“Who is?” I asked. “Lucky?”

“This Henri.”

I couldn’t really tell because of his shades, but I got the feeling his attention was straying to my chest. It was the way his head had dipped a little. “Henri?”

“Yeah.” He took off his shades and set them on the table between us. Now I knew he was looking at my chest.

I took a sip of wine. More than a sip. A gulp. I was sure the sea breeze was making my nipples tight and he’d probably be able to determine their outline. But I wasn’t going to look down and see for myself. That would make me even more self-conscious.

“I’m sure he’d have done the exact same thing as me if he’d been here,” Dustin said, looking at my face again. “Probably quicker because he’d have been at your side. Maybe even stopped him from pushing you over or targeting you in the first place.”

“Henri?” I asked again. How the hell did Dustin know about my ex?

“Yeah, he’s in Paris, right?”

“He is. That’s where he lives.”

“Gonna be awkward that, you two being married but living on different continents.” He shook his head. “Can’t see how that would work.”

“No, me neither, but—?”

Married?

“I guess,” he interrupted, “you could employ someone to oversee the team. Someone with the right experience.” He pressed his lips together. “Someone with business qualifications and hockey know-how.”

I held up my palm. “Stop.” I’d had enough of his waffle.

“What?”

“For one, I’m running the show now and apart from anything else, the budget won’t stretch to a hotshot executive to do what I’m doing for a very small salary, and second, how the hell do you know about Henri, and…married? What gave you that idea?”

He frowned. “I heard you talking to him at the airport. Sounded like a damn intense conversation.” He paused and huffed. “And call me old-fashioned, but when I proposed to my ex-wife, I didn’t do it over the phone, I got down on one knee and presented a ring.” He pointed to my left hand. “What’s he gonna do? Mail you a diamond?”

My head was spinning. I tried to think back to the call I’d had with Henri earlier that day. He’d told me he was getting married and invited me to the wedding. Had Dustin really got the wrong end of the stick and presumed that was Henri proposing to me?

It seemed he had.

“Henri is a great guy,” I said.

“I’m sure he is.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. “And I’m real sorry your time with your father went wrong. I’m sure you were hoping to break the happy news to him.”

“Happy news? There is no happy news.”

He took a drink, set the glass back on the pink mat and fiddled with the threads that he wore on his right wrist. “So why are you marrying him if it’s not happy?”

“I’m not marrying him.”

“You’re not?” He raised his eyebrows and appeared genuinely surprised.

“No. Henri was a fling, a bit of fun while I was in Paris. I adore him, he’s a really genuine person, but I have no intention of becoming his wife.”

“But you said you loved him and…”

“I do love him, but as a friend, and he was calling to tell me he was marrying someone else.” I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “A girl from the café we used to go to for brunch. I always knew she liked him. Seems they’ve had a whirlwind romance and now they’re all set to tie the knot.”

“Well, fuck me. I really got that wrong, didn’t I?” He frowned and shook his head.

“Just a bit.” I shrugged and took a sip of my wine.

“You’re not even with him?”

“Nope. Free as a bird.” I flicked at a small black bug that had landed on my arm. “So you’re stuck with me. I won’t be buying a one-way ticket to Paris any time soon. My home and life are at the arena now.”

He wiped his fingers over his lips, almost as if he were holding words in.

I glanced at his eyes, their dark depths gave nothing away. But I could guess what was there. He didn’t want me. Had been thrilled when he thought I was about to get a French husband and disappear. That would solve all of his damn problems, wouldn’t it? No wonder his mood had improved since he’d overheard that private conversation.

That just went to show what he got for eavesdropping, didn’t it?

I quickly drank my glass of water. “I don’t want the wine,” I said, pushing it away. “I just want to go back.”

A sudden sadness had come over me, wrapping around me like a sticky web the breeze couldn’t blow away. Dustin only liked me when he thought I was a temporary arrangement. Had only been nice because he thought I was heading out of his life soon. Out of America soon.

“You sure you’re up to it?” he asked. “The walk?”

“Yes.” I pulled my purse over my shoulder and stood. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face anymore, at the bitter disappointment written there.

He downed the last of his beer and dropped a few dollar bills on the table. “Okay. Let’s go.”

I stomped ahead of Dustin down by the shoreline, ignoring the sting on my knee and the ache in my chest. It wasn’t as if I cared what Dustin thought of me. I didn’t.

Plus, I had a job to do, a big job, and I couldn’t be distracted by annoying players who, each hour, earned nearly as much as they weighed. Not to mention my father needed me. He’d been so desperately sick, hanging on to life at one point. I had to do this for him and make it work. It was the least a good daughter could do after all he’d provided me with over the years, including my education.

My throat tightened and my eyes stung. I marched along, staring at the horizon and the approaching sign that declared our stretch of beach as private property and trespassers would be prosecuted.

I’d be glad when today ended—what with the shock of Henri’s marriage, Dustin’s arrival and Dad’s departure, and then, to top it all, getting mugged. I’d had enough.

Yes. I’d be happy to start fresh tomorrow and hope the stars had better things planned for me.

“Hey, you okay?” Dustin asked, catching up to me.

I glanced at him. He had his t-shirt off and it was tucked into his jeans, flapping behind him. He threw a pebble in the air and caught it with a snap of his hand making his biceps tense.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you pissed that Henri’s getting married?”

“No. I’m happy for him.”

“Oh, okay then.” He jogged ahead and threw the stone into the waves. “So what is it?”

“What’s what?”

He was walking backward, looking at me. “Are you in pain? Did that bastard hurt you more than you’re letting on?”

“No, no I’m fine…relieved, it could have been much worse.”

“Yeah, it could have.” He stooped and grabbed another black stone. “You should bathe that knee with antiseptic when we get back.”

“I will.” I saw the roof of the villa come into view. Pressed my lips together and stormed ahead. Not much farther now.

“So if you’re not bothered about Henri and you didn’t get seriously hurt, why have you got a face like a cat’s ass?”

“I have not.” I frowned.

“You have. You were actually quite normal for a bit back there, at the candy stall and that.”

“Normal?” I gripped the strap of my purse, didn’t look at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means you smiled.”

“I can smile, you know.”

“You just don’t like to.”

“Perhaps I don’t have much to smile about today, what with you being here.”

“Me!” He bent down, plucked a bigger stone from the sand and threw it in a perfect arc. It landed far out to sea with a fat splash. “Jesus, there’s gratitude. And I got your wallet back and everything.”

I tore my gaze away from his rippling muscles, how they moved and stretched beneath the surface of his skin as he twisted and turned.

“I’m grateful for that, it’s just…”

“Just what.” He stopped right in front of me.

I was forced to come to a halt. I studied the few curled black hairs on his sternum and then raised my eyes to the hollow of his throat, the stubble on his cheeks, his scarred bottom lip.

“Say it how it is, sweet cheeks.” His voice was stern and I sensed his patience was running out. “I can take it.”

Well, tough. My patience had evaporated days ago. Ever since the first day I’d met him. “It’s just that you shouldn’t be here at all. You weren’t invited.”

“I have a different view, as you know.” He slid his sunglasses over his cap and scowled down at me.

“You shouldn’t have worried my father about this whole contract business. He’s sick.”

“I didn’t, my agent did. That’s his job.”

“He should have contacted me.”

He huffed. “Perhaps he knew he’d get as much sense out of you as he would a damn puck.”

I poked his chest. This time, instead of feeling the hard padding he wore when dressed in his goaltender getup, I felt his sun-warm skin and the solidity of his sternum beneath my finger. I tried not to let touching his flesh affect my body, but it did. There was something about his skin and the strength beneath that flicked my switches. “I told you back there,” I said as firmly as I could, “I’m here to stay. Get used to it.”

“So am I?” He grabbed my wrist, wrapped his big fingers around it and pulled my hand away from his chest.

“We’ll see,” I said, tugging.

I was surprised when he me let go and quickly made the most of it by stepping around him. I needed the sanctuary of the villa.

I’d taken five steps when I felt him clutch my upper arm and the heat of his hand burn onto my skin. He spun me quite roughly to face him. I staggered but he had a good hold and righted me with what seemed like no effort.

“So let’s fucking do this,” he said harshly. “Right here, right now.” He grabbed my other arm, pulled me close.

I caught my breath and stared up at his wild, angry face cast in shadow by his peaked cap. “Do what?”

“Hash this out. The damn contract.”

“No, that’s not how it works.”

“It is in my world. Tell me, what do I have to do for an extension with the Vipers. I want three years. I’ll go with the same conditions as I have now. Can’t start fairer than that.”

“Dustin, no, we can’t do this. Not here, not now.”

He licked his lips, leaving a wet sheen there that captured my attention. “We can. Come on, what do you want?”

I shook my head, licked my own lips. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. But the truth was I didn’t want him at all because the team couldn’t afford him. Not on his current exorbitant salary anyway. God knows what my father had been thinking when he’d agreed to that. He must have been on the whiskey or something.

I looked out to sea, watched a lone gull swoop across the surface of a crashing wave.

“Tell me,” he said again, pulling me closer still.

My breasts came into contact with his chest. A dart of longing went through me like it had in New York when he’d kissed me. How did he do that, when he was so damn furious with me it just made me want to get closer to him, physically that was. Sense told me I should run, get the hell away, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

“This won’t work,” I said.

“Why not?’

“Because I…I don’t want you.” I pressed my hands on his dense pectoral muscles, stared up at him.

“Why not?”

“The state I’ve inherited the team in is…” I stopped myself. I couldn’t go into all the financial details with a player. That wasn’t fair, nor ethical. Not when I hadn’t had a chance to hash it out with Dad yet.

“The state you’ve inherited the team in?” He spoke with a guttural quality to his voice, as though he’d mixed gravel with the words.

“I can’t discuss it. You’ll just have to accept the decision.”

His nostrils flared and his lips flattened. “You mean that, don’t you? You really don’t have any intention of renewing my contract.” He paused. “Shit.”

God, I hated to see pain in his eyes. He clearly loved playing for the Vipers. And who could blame him? It was every hockey player’s dream come true.

I slipped my hands higher onto the base of his neck and rubbed the taut tendons there with my thumbs. “I wish I did want you,” I whispered.

Oh, what a lie. Because I did, just not for the team. His body, pressing against mine, the smell of his slightly malty breath and the way he was eating me up with his gaze. It all made me want him very much. In my bed.

Suddenly he snapped me tight against him, wrapped his arms around my waist and set me flush against his body.

“And I wish I didn’t fucking want you,” he said, his jaw tightening, the syllables seeming to struggle to get out from between his gritted teeth.

He wished he didn’t want me? Those words ping-ponged around my mind. What did he mean? That he did want me, the way I wanted him, even though it made no sense?

I went up on my toes and cradled the back of his head. I stared into his eyes, looking for answers. His pupils were wide despite the sunshine, and desire flamed within them. Yes, I’d been right, he did want me, exactly the same way I had to have him. Now.

I kissed him. With the same furious passion he’d inflicted on me in the hotel. For a horrendous moment I thought I’d made a God almighty mistake—his lips were still, his tongue flat. But then he melted, opened up and let me in.

He groaned, dipped his tongue into my mouth and slid his hand up my back to my hair, bunching his fingers in my casual updo.

Like before, his kiss transported me to a wild place where anything could happen. I writhed against him and was aware of his cock hardening against my stomach. It thrilled me that he was turned-on by me. Big, tough Dustin was hot for a bit of action with little old me. Bring it on.

“Fuck,” he muttered against my lips.

“Okay,” I gasped.