Chapter 4

Jennie Fields

Not once in my twenty-eight years of life had I imagined that Magnus Eriksson would ask me to dinner. I didn’t accept because I didn’t care for the way he talked to Cage about me. He would have never said those things out loud. Nor would he have signed them if he knew I’d grown up with a deaf grandmother. I knew exactly what he was saying.

I admit, I probably should have let him know that I’d been signing most of my life, but I hadn’t. We all had our secrets. Besides, I didn’t want to deal with the snickers from the other reporters about what Magnus and I might be saying to each other. It was tough enough for a woman working in a “man’s” field.

His words weren’t so offensive to me. I didn’t mind that he thought I was “hot as fuck,” or that he wanted to get a good look at my ass, but he shouldn’t have been saying those things about me while I was right there in the room, when he thought I didn’t know what he’d said. It was sneaky, and I didn’t like the whole talking-behind-someone’s-back thing.

From what I knew of him, Magnus wasn’t generally a rude person. With all of my dealings with him, he’d been a nice guy. He was super sensitive about being deaf, or so it seemed in the locker room, but he wasn’t outright rude that I’d noticed unless someone stuck a recorder in his face. I supposed he deserved a pass. To be honest, it took me by surprise that he spoke at all last night. I had to say, I liked the sound of his voice. Some of his words were stilted, as was to be expected of someone who hadn’t heard anything in so long, but his pitch was deep and somewhat raspy. His voice was quite alluring.

Basic research on the Internet revealed that he was half Native American on his mother’s side and half Norwegian on his father’s, but it was the Viking ancestry that showed through the most, aside from his high cheekbones. His hair was so blond one would think he bleached it, and his eyes—his eyes were an incredible shade of blue. They sparkled like the brightest sapphires, especially when he let loose with a big smile.

All of that beauty was framed on a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound chassis of perfection. I didn’t even mind his one missing tooth, which in the hockey world wasn’t bad. Most of the time no one could tell he was missing a tooth anyway. He only took it out for games. Why bother getting it knocked out again?

I loved that he was a big guy too. Big guys fit me better than short, thin ones. My physique wasn’t quite what I’d wanted it to be in a perfect world, but it was what I had to work with. I ate healthy for the most part, but I also believed exercise was a dirty word, and when I uttered it, I washed my mouth out with chocolate. So those extra pounds I carried around were well earned. As long as I was in good health, though, I knew that Hershey bars and Doritos would stay in my life.

In any case, Magnus was a hot guy with the bonus of being nice too. I had wanted to say yes immediately to his offer of dinner, but something held me back. Magnus wasn’t a dater. He wasn’t a man-whore, but I didn’t think he did the girlfriend thing. If I had to guess, he held out as long as he could and then got together for a casual one- or two-night fling with someone who wouldn’t cling to him. There was never mention of wild exploits in the papers, he never had a girl on his arm at any of the charity events the organization ran, nor did he seem to take advantage of the women who pursued him in public venues. He was a bit of a conundrum. The hot, rich guy who didn’t regularly sleep around? I would be lying if I said that didn’t interest me.

***

“Spill it.”

“Spill what?” I had only been in the office for half an hour before Izzy—short for Isabella—barged in and shut the door behind her.

Her stylish auburn hair gleamed as usual while her brilliant green eyes stared me down. “You didn’t even stop in the break room this morning. The only other time you skipped getting a second cup of coffee was the time you slept with that hot editor and didn’t want anyone to know.”

She was right. I remembered that morning a few years ago. Izzy was the only other person who knew about him. She wasn’t just a coworker; she was my best friend. Always on my side, she didn’t judge me, but I knew others would. He was married.

I didn’t know that at the time, of course. He was a temp filling in for a woman who was on maternity leave. Very cliché. Tall, dark, and handsome. Charming. Great sense of humor. He’d been here for almost four weeks the first time he cornered me in the break room.

When he’d propositioned me, I truly wasn’t interested, but he was persistent. The third time he came into my personal space, my body reacted, and I became interested. To his credit (if you could even call it that), he was honest about it being a sex-only relationship. Of course he did leave out the part about him having a wife.

I still wasn’t sure why I took him up on his offer. Yes, it had been a while since I’d had sex, and I wasn’t looking for anything long term, but why the sudden change? The first two times he came around, I felt nothing. No zing, no sparks, nothing. Third time was the charm, I guessed. He smelled good. I liked the way I could feel the heat from his body on mine when he stood so close to me. I caved.

Then came the sex. We were at my house, going at it pretty frantically when his phone started ringing—and ringing—and ringing. “Ignore that,” he’d said as he kept doing his thing. I was so close to an orgasm, something I hadn’t had in what seemed like forever, that I didn’t care if the phone ever stopped ringing. So close. I was reaching for that burst of pleasure when he cursed, “Goddammit! My wife can’t leave me alone for a fucking hour.”

That took care of any enjoyment I’d been having. I heaved him off of me. His shock was written on his face. He did, however, use his hand to finish himself off before addressing my concerns. Not my shining moment in life.

“So? Who’d you sleep with this time?” Izzy slammed her hand on the desk in front of me before I could answer her. “Wait! Was it that new kid Donny from the mail room? He’s hot.”

“Jesus, Izzy. Isn’t he an intern from the high school?”

“Hmm. He might be. Okay, so who was it?”

Izzy could be overexcited like a brand-new puppy at times, but she was trustworthy. She would never spread my business around. “I didn’t sleep with anyone, but Magnus Eriksson asked me to go to dinner with him when we were at Cage and Karen’s place.”

“No way. Magnus freaking Eriksson? You said yes, right? He is so your type. And you know sign language. It’s perfect!”

“He doesn’t know I sign, and I didn’t say yes.”

Izzy took a step back and crossed her arms. “Are you crazy? He’s gorgeous. And rich. And—”

I held my hand up. “Yeah, yeah. I didn’t exactly say no either.” I told her about him communicating with Cage while I sat there watching. “We kept playing the game, and then he didn’t say anything else so I just kind of let it go. Anyway, why would he ask me out right there with the others around in the middle of a game of Trivial Pursuit?”

“Hmm, well what was going on when he asked you?”

I thought about it but came up blank. “Nothing. We were just playing a game. Magnus, Jaromir, and I were on one team with Cage and Karen on the other.”

“Wait. Jaromir? Maybe good ole Mags was jealous.”

I frowned. “No. That can’t be. Why would he be jealous? He’s never shown any interest in me before.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you should pay more attention tomorrow after the game. See if he looks at you when you’re doing your thing with the other players.”

“You’re looking for something that’s not there, Izzy. I’ve been interviewing in that locker room for months. He’s never noticed me. As a matter of fact, it’s only been recently that he’s even been friendly. He has an issue with reporters. I can’t really blame him on that either. Do you know that there’s a betting pool going around for whoever gets his voice recorded first? Why do they care so much? He’s just deaf. It’s not a newsworthy event.”

“Come on, Jen. A lot of people like to make the odd man stand out. It gives them something to talk about. Someone to make fun of or feel sorry for.”

“He’s not odd, he just can’t hear. Why is that odd?”

Izzy’s hands went up in surrender. “Hey, I don’t think he’s odd. I think it’s pretty fricking awesome that we have a deaf hockey player on our team. Can you even imagine the trials he went through to get where he is? It couldn’t have been an easy journey.”

“It is pretty incredible, isn’t it? I’ll bet that’s why he won’t use his voice in interviews. He doesn’t want to be that guy. The one everyone talks about because he’s different. Not even if it’s in a positive light.” It simply wasn’t that big of a deal. My grandmother may have stumbled now and then if she was out and about without a translator, but she’d always gotten her point across. It wasn’t impossible. Growing up with Grammy made me see deafness as something that was just a different way to communicate, not a handicap. Most people didn’t grow up like that though, I supposed.

“Since the question never got answered, why don’t you ask him out? Take him to dinner or something. These are modern times. I think you should go for it. You could use a little spin in the sheets with a hot guy.”

“I won’t disagree with that, but you know I don’t sleep around either.”

“You never know, Jennie. He could be the one.”

I snorted. As if.

“What? He could. Why not? You think you’re too good for him?”

“Huh? No! Of course not. But, Izzy, he’s a celebrity—a highly paid professional athlete. He could have any woman he wants. He’s single for a reason. What is he, thirty-three, thirty-four? He’s not with someone because he doesn’t want to be.”

“Could be. Or maybe he has met someone he wants to be with. Maybe that someone is you. I think you should check it out. What do you have to lose?”

She had a point. A valid point. What did I have to lose? Maybe we’d hit it off and maybe we wouldn’t. Now I just had to get up the nerve to ask him to go out with me. What if he said no? That would be humiliating.

***

I was nervous as hell. The game was over, the Breakers lost, and Magnus had actually scored the winning goal for the opposing team. It happened that way sometimes. It was a bad deflection while Mags was trying to help the goalie defend his net, but instead of clearing the puck out of the way, it took a hideous bounce off his stick and sailed right in over Cage’s shoulder. It could have happened to anyone, but it didn’t. It had happened to Magnus, and he was not happy.

Do I really have to do interviews today, Coach? I could clearly see Magnus and Coach Martin signing by the door leading out of the interview area.

Yes, you do. The good with the bad, right, Mags?

Yeah. Good with the bad. Sorry about that lousy play—again.

Martin shook his head, shrugged, and placed his hand on Magnus’ shoulder. You’re never a player I need to ask to give more. It took a bad bounce. It’s not a unique situation. Let it go.

Magnus shrugged and shook his head as if disagreeing, but took the out that was offered. Thanks, Coach.

They parted ways, and Magnus, dragging his feet, reluctantly moved to the circle cleared for reporters. I was first in line, and with the crappy night he’d had I decided to throw him a bone. I put my recorder away and signed directly to him.

Not the best ending, huh? Surprised would have been a gross understatement to Magnus’ reaction. His mouth fell open, he took a step back, and his eyes widened.

You—he simply stopped and stared, a smile forming on his perfect lips—you sign?

I do. I suppose I should apologize for not telling you, but I won’t. Unless you’d like to apologize for the things you said to Cage when you thought I couldn’t understand you?

His chin dipped down, and he looked at me through lowered lashes. No, I think we’re good.

My loud laughter drew attention from the other reporters in the room, but in for a penny…You know I’m going to be the subject of the hour for all these reporters now, right? Food for fodder, as it were? All the male reporters here are going to wonder if I’m doing something illicit to gain your smiles.

He became very serious—back snapped up poker straight, frown in place. He looked around the room, daring the others to snicker. I’ll take care of them.

It was rather sweet but unexpected. Who was this man who, until only very recently, hardly answered my questions? I momentarily placed my hand on his forearm. I’m joking, Mags. Sort of. I can take care of them. But really, I do have a job to do. So…What do you think of the loss tonight?

He snickered at me. Really? That’s all you’ve got? Come on, Jennie. You’re better than that. Don’t sink down to asking insipid questions.

Insipid? Okay, how about this one? Would you have dinner with me this weekend?

His grin grew wide, and his bright eyes gave off that glow that I so loved. No.

Wait—what? My worst nightmare had come true. I’d put myself out there, asked him out, and he’d said no. There was nothing more in the world I wanted at that moment than for the Earth to open up and swallow me whole.

Oh, okay. So… I was searching my brain for an adequate question. I’m sure you know that goal wasn’t your fault, but how do you get past it?

Maybe by having dinner with a beautiful reporter tonight.

Oh. Oh my. So he was interested, just not in waiting for the weekend. That made me feel much, much better. But it’s almost ten o’clock.

We’re in Jersey—home of the twenty-four-hour diner. Don’t want dinner? We also happen to be in Atlantic City. Plenty of bars around here to choose from. What’s your poison?

He crossed his arms waiting for my reply, making those big veins guys got when they’d been using their bulging muscles stand out. I found them distracting, to say the least. One could say my poison at the moment was him. Your choice. Are you hungry? I’m good with either.

I inwardly sighed as he uncrossed his arms to talk to me. Each movement he made showcased those rippling muscles. I’m always hungry. He gave me a wink, making the sex-deprived me wonder if he was actually talking about food. However, I did acknowledge that my lecherous mind may have been making too much of it.

Okay. So one of the casinos? I don’t think anything’s open in Ocean City this late. Ocean City was a great place to live, but there wasn’t much nightlife after the summer season ended.

How about The Anchorage in Somers Point? We can get food and a drink.

I’d heard of The Anchorage, but I’d never been. The talk was that it was a great place to go and sit on their outside deck. It looked out over the bay by the Ninth Street Bridge. We wouldn’t be sitting outside in November, of course, but I was game. Sure. That sounds great.

Okay. How long do you need here? Magnus’ muscled arm waved, encompassing the room.

I still hadn’t gotten my interview with him down yet, and looking behind me, I saw that the reporters were stacking up to get to him.

I’m not sure. We haven’t done our interview yet.

He shrugged and winked again. I trust you, Jennie. Make up your own answers. You know how these things go. He looked at the clock on the wall before glancing to me again. How about you meet me in the team’s parking lot in about forty minutes? I’ll drive you to your car and you can follow me to the restaurant. Will that give you enough time to finish up?

Yes. That sounds good. But you know I can’t just make up my own answers. Just a few questions, okay?

Sure.

I got the answers I needed, and with a parting smile, he dismissed me and turned to another reporter, wanting to get his obligation to them over with. Just before I turned away, he signed, See you soon, Ace.

Ace. Cute. I’d actually never been called Ace before, believe it or not. I’d wanted to be a reporter since I was a little girl, and it was my grandmother who had gotten me so interested in sports. She’d said it was something she could enjoy without being able to hear it. Grandmom was born deaf, so she never really knew what things sounded like. Not the way the hearing do. Even so, she used to insist she screamed in her head at referees’ bad calls or penalties her favorite teams took. She’d not only taught me how to communicate with the hearing impaired, she’d taught me not to judge people on their abilities or lack thereof. But most importantly, she’d taught me to love sports. Love them. The only one I couldn’t get behind was golf. I simply didn’t see the allure. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce, though; now was the time to get ready for my first “date” with Magnus Eriksson.