Chapter Four

 

The trip back to Orlando was uneventful. I sat as far from Dustin as physically possible on the plane and made a point of escaping the rush of the airport without saying goodbye to anyone. I wanted to be alone.

Alone and in Dad’s air-conditioned, peaceful house away from the damn Vipers. Because, damn it, who would have thought one of the wily snakes could have almost charmed his way into my bed during my first few weeks in control.

God knows what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped it. Or was it the other way ’round? Had he stopped it? My memory was a little fuddled. Shots didn’t suit me and neither did wine on an empty stomach. If I hadn’t been halfway to being drunk there was no way I would have kissed such a bad-mannered man. No, that was wrong, let him kiss me, because I really hadn’t had a choice, he’d backed me into a wall and devoured me. That’s what I remembered anyway.

The trouble was whenever I thought about his lips on mine and his big body pressing into me, a quiver started in my belly. It traveled up to my chest, causing my nipples to tingle, and it also shot heat down to the juncture of my thighs, making me press my legs together and clench my internal muscles.

It wasn’t that I liked him—Dustin—it was just that I liked the thought of what he could do to me. Jesus, if just the memory of a kiss had me buzzing, imagine if we were together for real, doing the deed, fucking. It would be off the scale.

But that was never going to happen. So with a handle on what was going on with the team finances, I decided to head to the island and see my father. I’d nearly lost him a month ago, and that fear, that heart-twisting dread on the flight back from Paris thinking that I might be organizing his funeral was still weighing heavily on me. So if there was a chance to go and spend some time with him, even if she was there, then that was what I should do. Plus, it would give me the chance to catch up with him about some of the money-saving ideas I had for the Vipers.

I organized for Clifford, Dad’s driver, to pick me up and take me to the small private airfield we used. It wasn’t far and I made a few phone calls on the way. Let Mike know I was out of town and also called my mother, checked in that she was recovering okay from her latest round of plastic surgery. It seemed being single again had sparked a need for a total body revamp. She’d been beautiful before but who was I to judge?

I made it to the small, out-of-town airfield in good time, but unfortunately the plane was delayed and I ended up hanging around in the empty departure lounge sipping from a water bottle and reading my Kindle.

My cell rang and I glanced at the screen, wondering who it could be. It flashed up Henri’s name and a picture of him standing on the wall around the glass pyramid at the Louvre.

I smiled and hit answer. It had been weeks since I’d heard his sexy French accent.

“Bonjour, Henri,” I said.

“Ah, Gina, how are you? It has been so long. My ’eart is breaking.”

I smiled and pictured his handsome, expressive face. “I’m sure your ’eart is just fine, Henri, but it is nice to know you care.”

“I do care. I was calling to see how you are, and your poor papa, how is he?”

“Doing well, home from hospital and taking it easy.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a vehicle pull up in the adjacent private lot, a large black wagon. I turned from the brightness of the window and paced beside a row of plush red chairs. “It’s keeping me busy, though, sorting out his business affairs.”

“But you like to be busy, no?”

“Yes, I guess. What about you?”

“Ah, that is why I am calling, ma cherie. I have exciting news.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Wow, you got that job in Reims?”

“No, no, I didn’t want it, they want me, I say no. I am a Paris boy, how could I leave?”

I heard the automatic door whoosh behind me, glanced at the screen to my left and saw that my father’s plane was just landing. Good, I’d soon be on my way.

“What is it, Henri? You have me all excited.”

“You remember Marie, the girl from the café?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we are to be married, next month.”

“Married.” I felt as though I’d been gut-checked. Damn, Henri and I had only been messing about, but really, within weeks of me dashing back to the USA he was getting married, to Marie, the girl I’d told him on several occasions was always giving him the eye and following him around the room with her gaze. Seemed she’d been biding her time for me to get out of the picture and I had to give it to her, she’d nabbed her man with impressive speed and precision.

“Gina, say something. You are not happy for me?” He sounded worried. “You will be okay, non?”

“Yes, yes of course. Yes, I will.”

“You don’t sound it.”

“It’s just…It’s all so quick, you know, to meet, fall in love and then get married so soon. You and I, we…” My words trailed off. “But yes, that’s wonderful. I’m very happy. You’ll be a wonderful husband.”

“Thank you. It is the way of the ’eart sometimes, but you know I will always love you, oui.”

“Yes, I know you love me and I love you, very much.” Henri had always been free and easy with his declarations of love and devotion and I’d found myself slipping into the same habit of announcing my love for everyone when I was in Paris.

A rattle behind me made me jump, someone clanking a can out of a vending machine.

“Ah, you have a special place in my soul, Gina,” Henri said, “which is why I wanted to tell you and, of course, invite you to the wedding.”

“Well, it’s a long way, Paris, but you know I love it there. I’ll need to make some arrangements though and speak to my father.”

“Ah, that makes me sad that you can’t say just yes, yes, yes, but of course I understand. Your papa must take priority and of course your big new job.”

“Thanks, you know, for understanding.”

“But we will stay in touch, oui?”

“Oui.”

“And I do love you, you lit up many dark nights for me, my beautiful American woman.”

I sighed and pushed my hand through my hair. “They were very special nights, Henri, and I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

I ended the call, my heart aching but also not. Henri had never really been mine, we’d been ships passing in the night. Fun party ships who’d supplied what the other had needed. I hadn’t yearned for him when we’d parted, or longed to hear his voice. Our kisses and our connection had been fun, passionate to an extent, but not wild, not soul-achingly raw like that kiss with Dustin. That had curled my toes, left me hollow and craving something no amount of masturbation had been able to satisfy.

Reaching for my case, I turned. It was time to board the Gunner jet.

My breath caught and for a moment I didn’t quite believe what I was seeing. Standing by the door, swigging from a can of Coke, was Dustin Reed.

“What the—?” I gasped.

He lowered his drink and narrowed his eyes at me.

“What the fucking hell are you doing here?” I demanded, stalking up to him. Damn, why did all hockey players have to be so freakin’ tall?

“I’m getting on a plane to go see the guy who pays my wages,” he said, looking down at me with a shrug. “I have some things to discuss with him.”

“Like hell you do.” I shook my head and tried to stop a tremble of anger racing across my body. “And like hell you are. This is my plane, our plane. You can’t just catch a lift on it.”

“I’ve been given permission.”

“By who?”

“Mr. Gunner.”

“What?” Now I was so mad I could see little black dots swimming in front of me. “When did you speak to my father? He’s supposed to be taking it easy, not being hassled by annoying players.”

“Didn’t hassle, my agent emailed him a few days ago after you brought up the subject of not renewing my contract. It was Mr. Gunner who proposed that the best way for us to iron out any miscommunications was for me to hop on his plane next time it was en route to the island and go talk it through face-to-face.”

“What? That’s a pile of shit. My father would have told me. I only spoke to him a few hours ago.”

Dustin dropped his shades over his eyes. “I guess it slipped his mind, huh?”

“No, it didn’t slip his mind. He didn’t know anything about it. You’re not coming. I want some time with my father, who, can I remind you, nearly died last month, and you being there, all…all…”

“All what?” He tipped his head and seemed to enjoy the fact I was struggling to find the right words to describe him.

“All cocky and…” I wanted to say gorgeous, but that wasn’t right. “Over-fucking-confident. It’s just not going to help.”

“Take a chill pill, will you? I’m only going to be there for a few hours, and then I’ll head off and do a bit of sightseeing. Phoenix is always raving about the harbor restaurants. Seems he and Brooke had a great time when they visited the place.”

“You can’t stay for a few days. You have practice.” I rammed my hands on my hips.

He gnawed the inside of his cheek and tossed his empty can into a nearby bin. “Yeah, well, not much point practicing if I don’t have a team to play for. Kind of figured my contract renewal takes priority. Having a team next season is vital in my world.”

“Miss Gunner, the captain has given the go-ahead.” A smartly dressed woman walked up to us with a clipboard. “And I see the second passenger has arrived.” She looked up at Dustin and I swear she actually fluttered her eyelashes. “Mr. Gunner’s secretary rang ahead and told us to expect you, Mr. Reed.”

“Please,” Dustin said, “call me Dustin.”

She giggled. “Okay, Dustin. I’m Angela. I’ll show you to the plane, it’s only a short walk.”

Dustin nodded and wandered after her, his big strides casual and unhurried as she tottered along in black patent heels.

Seriously. This couldn’t be happening. What the heck had I done to deserve the most irritating player on the planet accompanying me on a much-needed break?

Drat and double drat.

Within minutes I found myself sitting on a plane, for the second time in as many days trying to avoid being near Dustin. It was kinda hard on this one, though, with only half a dozen seats and a small, narrow fuselage.

I opted for my usual spot near the door and, much to my annoyance, Dustin sat next to me. On the other side of the aisle, admittedly, but that was still too damn close.

After fastening my seatbelt, I rested my head back and let the drone of the plane as it taxied onto the runway vibrate through me. I had to calm down and keep my cool. I was beginning to think Dustin enjoyed seeing me rattled. Hell, he’d provoked me enough times.

But this. Really? This was private time between me and my father. I glanced at him and resisted a theatrical sigh even though it was how I felt.

His bulk completely filled the seat and, despite the generous legroom, he still couldn’t stretch his legs straight. I stared at his big feet encased in black sneakers with a thin orange stripe above the sole. Goodness only knew what size they were. Like me he wore jeans, though mine were dark denim, brand new and skintight, his were worn and loose, faded on the thighs and around the groin area, they had a small rip on the right knee.

“You want something, sweet cheeks?” he asked suddenly.

I looked up at his face. His eyes were twinkling and one side of his mouth was curled up.

Damn, he’d caught me looking at his… “No, just checking that your belt is done up.” I pointed at the sign above the pilot’s door. “When that goes on it means take off is soon.”

“Ah, well, you don’t need to worry.” He plucked the thick black strap that sat over a wide denim crease in his groin. “I’m safe and sound.”

“Good. Though we have you well insured—your body that is.” As I spoke, the small plane suddenly kicked up a gear and hurtled forward. I was pressed back in my seat and gripped the armrests. I was a seasoned traveler, but still, takeoff always freaked me out.

“Though how effective a belt is during a plane crash is negligible,” Dustin said.

“What?”

“I hear small planes are ten times more likely to crash than big commercial ones, and come on, is a thin bit of fabric gonna save you?”

“Why the hell would you say that?” I glared at him. “You’re not even supposed to say the ‘c’ word when you’re on a plane.”

“What, crash?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “It’s bad luck.”

He shrugged and set about uncurling a pair of headphones. “Just stating a fact.”

“Why, when we’re just about to…” I held my breath as the plane lurched into the air. It seemed there was quite a side wind. “Shit, that was a bit…” My stomach rolled.

“The forecast mentioned a weather front was coming. I reckon this wind will be worse over the Gulf. I hope we land okay.”

I swallowed. Damn him. Now I had visions of us touching down in a storm, rain and hail pelting the small plane, playing havoc with the radar, the wings skimming the runway as we were blown and bounced around, tipped left and right.

“Jesus, you really need to relax, sweet cheeks,” he said, staring at me. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out. What a jerk.

He rubbed his hand around his roughly stubbled jawline and frowned. “Shit, sorry. I was forgetting about Mr. Gunner.”

I pursed my lips, turned away from him and stared out the window. We were breaching the fluffy white clouds and bright blue was dominating the horizon.

“It’ll be fine,” he said. “The landing.”

I took a deep breath and was relieved to feel the plane leveling out.

“And planes fly in light winds all the time,” he said, “so don’t get your lacy panties in a twist.”

“I am not getting my panties in a twist.” I turned back to him. “And kindly refrain from bringing my panties into conversation ever again.”

He held up his hands as if in surrender. “Whatever you say, boss.”

The way he said boss was full of mocking, almost with a laugh tagged onto it. The guy really didn’t take me seriously. Well, he’d have to when my father was sitting next to me, on my side, agreeing with my plans to save the team he’d worked so many years to put at the top of the NHL.

Then we’d see who was laughing and who was boss. Dustin “Speed” Reed would have that stupid smirk wiped right off his face when he found out he was just too damn expensive for the Vipers.