Chapter 1
Six months later
Jordan had finally figured out his game-day routine after years of testing what worked and what didn't.
He got to the arena around three o'clock, hung up his worn sheepskin coat and turned off his phone — if there was an emergency, his brother knew how to reach him. He would change into a track suit with the Detroit Pirates' logo, make a protein shake, and take it to the bench out by the ice. For a half hour or so, he would drink and imagine how the game would go — which plays would work and which wouldn't, who he had to avoid and who he had to help. After that was catching up with his teammates, which was something he added this year now that he was the captain. He needed to always make sure things were working out with the players if they wanted to win it all this season.
And then of course, there was the soccer game. It was a staple for most hockey teams: a soccer ball and a circle of players kicking it around or bouncing it off their knees, anything to keep it in motion. But something was off today. Jordan felt like the world was trying to give him a sign that soccer was just not his thing. After bobbling it a few times, he missed a totally easy shot and had to go chasing it down the hall.
That's when he saw her. Blonde hair hiding her face as she looked down at her phone, long legs accentuated by her black leggings and a pair of black boots to match her jersey. Well, it was really his jersey considering she was wearing his number. Jordan stood there dumbfounded. It had been months since he had been with a woman, months since any woman really had a pull on him. He had been so focused on the team and getting away from who he used to be that he had pushed all of that aside. But it was no wonder that he would suddenly feel this way again with a woman so beautiful in front of him.
"Hey, jackass! Stop hogging the ball!"
Jordan turned to see his teammate Alex Orlov sneering at him.
"Screw you," he casually retorted as he tossed the ball to them.
He looked back at the woman, someone he thought looked familiar from somewhere. He couldn't quite figure it out, but she definitely seemed to look out of place in the drab underworld of the arena. Was she a player's girlfriend or part of the other team's staff maybe? And if either of those were the case, why was she wearing his jersey?
"I know you're staring at me, and it's kind of rude," she said without looking up from her phone.
Jordan looked around wondering what kind of idiot would stand there obviously staring like that. Then he realized he was that idiot. "Sorry, darling. I thought I recognized you from somewhere."
She looked up with harsh brown eyes that seemed ready to rip into him — and then they softened a bit. "You're Jordan King."
"I am. And you are?"
She held out her hand to him. "Charlotte Stone."
Holy crap, Charlotte Stone. As soon as she said her name, he recognized her from that stupid New York socialites' reality show that Alex insisted they watch during their down time on game-day afternoons. Her mom and some other old rich women starred on the vapid program and occasionally her mother would parade Charlotte in front of the cameras. She was the only person that Jordan was ever actually interested in seeing on the television screen. And she was here in his arena wearing his jersey.
"Nice to meet you." He tried to casually shake her hand, hoping it would hide the fact that he actually recognizing her. "Sorry about the uh... staring thing."
She smiled at him, wordlessly telling him it was OK because she was used to it. But he couldn't help but feel something for her that he hadn't felt in a long time around a woman. Nervousness maybe? Anxiety? Whatever it was, it was not normal for the most eligible bachelor in the Motor City.
"So I know this may sound rude, but what exactly are you doing here?"
"She's with me!" Jack Foster came walking down the ramp towards them and gave Charlotte a quick peck on the cheek. Jordan would never admit that he was jealous of his boss at that moment, but he was. "Your tickets," he said, handing Charlotte a white envelope.
"Tickets?" Jordan asked. "So you really are a hockey fan?"
"I am," she replied. "And Jack owed me after I signed the contract to live in his building."
"Signed a contract for the penthouse," he reminded them with an amused look on his face.
Jack had moved home to Detroit after becoming a billionaire when he sold his dot-com company back in Silicon Valley. Instead of staying in California, he decided to bring his cash back to his hometown and help revitalize the city. First, he bought the city's hockey team. Then he began renovating local abandoned buildings into luxury condos. Charlotte's had just been the most recent — and the most lavish.
"So I guess season tickets aren't hard to come by when you make the right real estate deal," Jordan teased.
Jack smiled at his captain. "You know the old car dealer who sits next to my friends by the penalty box?"
"Oh yeah, that guy's wife hates coming to the games," he said. "I think she'd try to find any way possible to get rid of those seats."
"Well, he died a month ago."
"And now I feel like an ass."
Charlotte laughed at Jordan, which gave him some sort of feeling that he didn't want to explain. If he could get another laugh like that from her, he would suffer whatever embarrassment he needed to make it possible.
"Don't feel bad," the team owner said. "She apparently called the ticket office to find a way to offload the seats for the rest of the season, and I found the perfect person." Jack smiled at Charlotte and then turned to his captain. "Kick some ass tonight for me, will you?"
Jordan shook Jack's hand. "Always do, sir."
"I'm not that much older than you. Stop calling me 'sir.'"
The captain leaned closer to Charlotte, lowering his voice a bit. "Just trying to impress the lady, sir." For that little display, he got another smile from the beauty next to him. "Enjoy the game, Miss Stone."
He gave her a wink and quickly turned back towards the locker room.
Jordan was trying to play it cool as he walked away but as soon as he turned the corner and was out of their sight, he had to take a deep breath. He was supposed to be focused on the game now, on the team and their goal to win the championship. He had told himself no women this year, nothing that could distract him until the end of the season, and definitely nothing that would contribute to his less-than-stellar reputation with the opposite sex.
But if that seat near the ice was going to be occupied by Charlotte Stone for the rest of the season, he was going to have to try extra hard to keep himself out of trouble instead of spending five minutes in the box staring at her.
Charlotte said her goodbyes to Jack and made her way into the arena, unable to shake the image of Jordan King's blue eyes staring at her. Just the idea of him talking to her dredged up bad memories of the last hockey player who looked at her like that. It was two years ago, sure, but the scar Declan Reed left on her heart still seemed to be quite fresh in her mind. It didn't help that Declan was also a professional hockey player, albeit the undisputed biggest pest in the league. Some things never change apparently.
But there was something about Jordan that could make her rethink her policy when it came to dating hockey players – and that could be very dangerous.
Charlotte was pulled out of her thoughts as she heard more and more chattering around her while she headed down the stairs to her seat.
"Damn, her ass is better looking in person than on TV."
"Have you read her novels? They're so trashy."
"I know, right? I love them!"
"Charlotte Stone!"
That last one came from the man she apparently was going to be sitting next to for the rest of the season, causing her to put on her most reserved expression. He looked to be about the same age as Jack with brown hair and brown eyes to match. The woman next to him had long black hair and an expression on her face that made it look like she was silently apologizing for the man's temporarily boorish behavior.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have yelled that so loud," the man said, sticking out his hand for Charlotte to shake. "I'm Adam Ward. I'm a friend of Jack's."
She felt the tension in her shoulders relax a bit as she took his hand. Maybe if he was a friend of Jack's, he wouldn't be so weirded out sitting next to someone well known like her.
"I'm Adam's wife, Rachel," said the woman with the black hair next to him. "And this is our son, Aiden."
A little boy with big brown eyes and dark curly hair like his father's ducked out from behind Rachel with a huge smile on his face.
"Hi!" The boy gave her an overly enthusiastic wave.
"What's up, kid?"
"I like your jersey. Is Jordan King your favorite player?"
"I'm not sure yet," she said. "Jack gave me this jersey and said I would like him."
He smiled innocently up at her. "I think everyone likes him! My mom says he has a lot of friends who are girls."
Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte could see Rachel shift uncomfortably and couldn't help but find it all amusing.
"I know quite a few hockey players like that," she told Aiden.
"Really?" he asked enthusiastically. "Like who?"
Like that stupid ass Declan Reed. "Oh, I can't think of any at the moment."
"So," Adam said, trying to help her change the subject. "Jack said you finally moved in this week. How did that go?"
"Not bad. A little stressful."
That was an understatement. When she originally bought the place eight months ago, it was a big space with four walls. She brought in a local architect that Jack had suggested to develop the living area. Her interior decorator from New York made the trek to Detroit and nearly passed out when she saw how much space she would be working with. It definitely wasn't the typical shoebox-sized New York apartment.
She got the moving van packed up two weeks ago, much to the chagrin of her mother, who turned her nose up at the idea of her daughter "slumming" it in a place that wasn't Manhattan. But Margaret Stone thought Brooklyn was slumming it so Detroit was practically another planet. Now that Charlotte was in her own place with her own decorations and her own boxes, even if they were over the place, her penthouse had already started to feel like home.
Charlotte turned to Adam who was watching the players warm up. "So you worked with Jack in California?"
"Yeah," he said. "I took a chance and moved to San Francisco to help Jack launch his website, Titan, then met this beauty when I was out there." He put his arm around his wife and smiled. "So when Jack and I decided to sell the company, we both came back here."
"Do I dare ask how much you sold it for?" Charlotte asked before quickly realizing what she had said. "Actually, sorry, never mind. That was a very New York thing to ask."
Adam laughed and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I don't think you have to look any farther than these seats to find your answer."
He was right considering they were three rows back from the glass, close to the penalty boxes so they could hear every player's frustration after he got locked in. She looked out on the expanse of ice in front of them and smiled just as the lights went out and the loud music started playing.
"This is my favorite part!" Aiden yelled enthusiastically over the bass line.
"Let's hear it for your Detroit Pirates!" yelled the announcer as the team poured out onto the ice. "On your feet for the captain, Jordan King!"
She watched as the man she met earlier took some warm up laps while the crowd cheered him on. His uniform definitely made him seem taller and more muscular. The skates and padding probably helped quite a bit. Charlotte couldn't help but cheer as he came by and thought for a moment that he may have seen her and smiled. She wasn't going to dwell on it though. She also wasn't going to dwell on the way he stared intently and clenched his jaw as the puck was dropped to start the game. Charming, handsome hockey players have been nothing but trouble for her.
As the cheers died down, Aiden began to eye the empty seat next to her. "So who are you going to bring with you to the games?"
Jack had given her the pair of seats, but she wasn't sure what she would do with the tickets for that extra seat yet.
"Actually, I don't have any friends here so far so I don't know," she explained. "How about we make a deal? If I don't have a guest for a game, you can sit in my extra seat."
"Awesome!" Aiden said as he pushed away from his mom and into the extra seat next to his new neighbor.
She would have to thank Jack later for giving her some cool people to sit with during the season.
Charlotte turned back to the ice just in time to see Jordan score the first goal of the game. Suddenly, the noise in the arena was deafening and energizing. Jordan skated by the glass in front of them with a fist of triumph in the air, flashing his killer smile and amazing blue eyes. She couldn't help but jump to her feet, cheering along with the rest of the crowd and high fiving a few of the people sitting in front of them.
The crowd began to calm down and return to their seats as the ref lined up to drop the puck for the next face-off while Aiden stared ahead. "Jordan King is so cool," he said in awe.
She had to agree. "He does seem pretty amazing. How long have you been a fan of Jordan's?"
Aiden shrugged. "As long as I can remember, and I'm six years old so it's a long time."
Charlotte became more relaxed as the game went on. She was always so nervous in a setting like this since she could tell when people would treat her differently. There were times when she just wanted to be looked at like a normal person who wasn't recognized by everyone in the arena. But the Wards put her at ease, giving her suggestions for some good places to visit in the area and even asking her out to dinner.
"We have to give you the real Detroit tour," Adam explained between the second and third periods. "We'll show you some of the landmarks around here and then end with chili dogs at American Coney Island."
"Lafayette Coney Island," Rachel replied.
"American."
"What's the difference?" Charlotte asked.
Rachel rolled her eyes as Adam explained, "American is the better Coney Island."
"I don't think so, dear."
"So they're both in the city?" Charlotte asked.
"Oh yeah," Adam said. "Right next door to each other."
"Next door?" she said skeptically.
"It's a Detroit thing."
Charlotte laughed at Adam's succinct explanation. "Well, if you ever make it to New York, I'll be more than happy to return the favor and explain the difference between Famous Ray's Pizza and Ray's Original Pizza."
"Oh, that's a deal," he replied.
She was going to like sitting here this season.
As the last seconds ticked off the clock, Jordan could feel the crowd getting anxious. The Pirates still had the lead, but Jordan's goal was the only one on the board for either team. Luckily, Detroit's goalie made a miraculous save right at the end to get the win, but it was still a little too close. He would have to talk to the team about that the next time they had a captain's meeting.
He headed down the tunnel, happy with his performance at least. He had been trying to get a long scoring streak going this season, but he would always get thrown off only a few games into them. Something felt different tonight. He wanted to say it was something about the ice or the way the team worked together or the cheering from the fans. He wanted to say the team at least showed some grit, making sure they didn't squander the one goal he had picked up.
But as he pulled off his sweaty jersey and sat down in front of his locker, his body tired from the beating it took that night, he knew it wasn't any of those things. Charlotte was exactly where he expected to find her among the sea of people over by the penalty box. Three rows up and a little off to the left, her long blonde hair standing out against the black jerseys in the crowd.
"You OK there, captain?" Alex asked him.
Jordan turned to see a goofy grin on the Russian defenseman's face. "Yeah, why?"
"You seem a little distracted. I hope that Stone girl didn't get to your head."
Logan Moore scoffed from his locker next to Jordan. "He's a big deal now. He doesn't get distracted by trashy reality stars."
"She's not trashy," Jordan insisted.
Alex raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction. "That's too bad. I like trashy."
He rolled his eye. "I'm well aware," he replied. "Anyway, we all know Charlotte is the only one with class on that show."
Several of the players groaned, causing Jordan to cringe in response. What was he even thinking saying that?
"You already sound like a love sick puppy," Logan said.
"I'm not a love sick puppy," he mumbled.
"Which is what a love sick puppy would say," Alex replied. "Besides, we all know she's not as hot as Rebecca on the show."
Logan grabbed a towel. "That woman is way too old for you," he said as he headed for the showers.
"Old means experienced!" Alex yelled back at him before turning to Jordan. "But seriously, if you're banging Charlotte Stone, you can get me a Rebecca hook-up, right?"
"Why are we even talking about this?"
"I know you like talking to your teammates about their interests, captain" Alex said sarcastically. "My interests are hockey, women, and reality shows, in that order."
"Anyway," Jordan said with a sigh. "I met Charlotte right before the game started. I'm not banging her."
Alex smirked. "Not yet, but you need to get back on that horse."
"I've told you before, I'm taking a break from women because I need to focus on being the captain."
The defenseman scowled at him. "Maybe it's time for you to steer your ship into port."
What the hell? Since when did that dumbass Russian start using metaphors to describe Jordan's emotional issues? Oh wait, it was a sex metaphor.
"Where did you even hear that?"
Alex smiled. "That survivor show where they had to live in an old pirate ship for a week and—"
"I remember," Jordan lamented. "Go take a shower, Birdie. You smell like a hockey player."
The penthouse was dark when Charlotte finally got home from the game. Luckily, she had a few overhead lights added when they built out the empty floor, but now she was cursing that she hadn't added more to the plan. At least the sporadic light meant that she couldn't see all the boxes that still needed to be unpacked.
Charlotte walked down the hall past the bedrooms to her office at the end. Even at night, it was perfect. The extra lights in the ceiling made the space bright along with the simple white walls.
She headed over to sit down behind the best piece in the room: a large mahogany desk that was placed in the right spot to allow her to look out the windows and see the skyline of the city. The desk was probably the priciest piece of furniture in her place, which was a bit ridiculous considering she bought it off her own uncle. John had insisted that he needed at least $15,000 to part with such a "family heirloom" or something like that when Charlotte knew damn well the thing was collecting dust in his home in the Hamptons. But it had been custom ordered by her great-grandfather after he made his first million dollars almost a century ago selling New York real estate. It deserved to see some more work.
Charlotte ran her fingers along the top of the desk, tracing the bumps and cracks that it had picked up over the years. She smiled, thinking that she couldn't wait to get started on her next projects there, looking up to make sure she had a good sight line to the whiteboard she had installed on a nearby wall. Her editor, Nick Owen, had called her latest manuscript good but a bit uninspired. It just didn't seem like her, he said.
"Maybe you should try a new approach to your writing," Nick had suggested. "Change your workspace around. Put your desk in a different spot to get a new view or get rid of your little note cards on the bulletin board. Try going big."
Perhaps she had taken Nick's words too seriously when she moved her entire apartment to another city and had a huge whiteboard installed next to her desk in her bigger office. But as she sat there, she realized this was the right decision.
Charlotte stood and walked over to the blank wall that faced the whiteboard and had her bedroom closet on the other side, taking particular note of the floorboards. "One, two, three." She counted the boards with her toe lightly tapping each one before reaching the fourth. "Gotcha!" she whispered triumphantly, pressing her foot down to pop open the secret door that led into her closet. It was a bit cheesy, a bit James Bond perhaps, but she was never one to go with convention.
She thought about digging through the boxes to find a t-shirt or some yoga pants to sleep in, but the day had already been quite long after unpacking box after box followed by a hockey game. Instead, she just pulled off her boots, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor of her closet.
She walked into her bedroom, sleek and crisp and modern, including the white bedspread and fluffy pillows. Climbing under the clean sheets on her new bed, she was thankful that she had made sure to unpack those on the first day she arrived. It wouldn't have really mattered tonight though considering the most comfortable thing touching her skin was her jersey. She smiled as she drifted off to sleep, thinking about the note that Jack had included with it when he sent it to her.
"So glad you picked this city. You're going to love Jordan King!"