Chapter Seven

 

"You okay? You look uncomfortable."

Shannon shrugged and forced a smile to her face, barely nodding in response to Caleb's question. Uncomfortable? Why should she be uncomfortable? This was nothing more than a hockey game, right?

Yeah. Sure.

She'd never been so uncomfortable in her life. It was like she a was in a giant fishbowl, on display for everyone to see. Or like she was some exotic specimen on display behind a glass wall at a weird zoo. People were staring. At him. At her. At them.

And she hated it.

She knew Caleb would be following dress code and be in a suit, so she wore black slacks and a nice sweater instead of jeans. Not because she wanted to look nice for him—she didn't, even if it had taken forever to decide on what outfit to wear. She had taken time with her hair instead of pulling it back in her usual ponytail. She'd even tossed on a little make-up…just in case.

But in case of what?

Not even in her wildest imaginings had she thought they'd be sitting in the owner's box. The freaking owner. On display. For everyone to see. It didn't help that James Murphy—the Blades' owner—was here, too. He'd looked surprised to see her, had even squinted at her for a few seconds like he couldn't believe it was her. Then he smiled and laughed and leaned over to the owner of the Banners and said something. The reaction was enough to make her paranoid for the first ten minutes of the game.

With good reason, too, because five minutes ago, the arena's announcer introduced her as a special guest in his bellowing voice and she looked up just in time to see her face plastered on the giant screen hanging above center ice. And yeah, that stupefied expression on her face hadn't helped. At all.

Neither did the small spattering of polite applause that left her even more mortified than seeing her stupid face up on that stupid screen.

Uncomfortable? Nah. What the hell did she have to be uncomfortable about?

So she kept her bright smile firmly plastered in place as Caleb studied her. "Nope. All good."

"You sure? Because you don't look it."

"I'm fine." She reached for her iced tea—served in a real glass without a straw—and took a quick sip. Anything more and she might dribble it all down the front of her sweater. "I just wish you would have told me we'd be in the owner's box."

"I did."

"I don't remember you saying the owner's box." And she didn't—which meant nothing. Her brain had been a little scrambled last night because of that stupid kiss.

"I thought you heard me. Sorry." Caleb crossed his right ankle over his left knee and fixed the seam of his dress pants, the movement casual and almost absent-minded. And he had that devilish grin on his face, the one that made his dimple deepen and made him look totally unapologetic and entirely too charming.

Was he sorry? Maybe. Maybe not. It still would have been nice to have a little reminder, just in case—so she could have prepared herself. She said as much to Caleb, then had to refrain from hitting him when he chuckled.

"I can't believe sitting here makes you nervous. It's no different than when you're playing, when people are watching your every move."

"Trust me, this is a hell of a lot different." Shannon raised the glass to her mouth then lowered it without taking a sip. How many people were here tonight? Fifteen thousand? Twenty? She had no idea how many seats the arena held, only knew that it was a hell of a lot more than the eight hundred—barely—seats at the rink where the Blades played.

And unlike the rink where they played, damn near every seat was filled.

Caleb shifted in the leather seat, his green eyes suddenly focused on her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. "How is this any different?"

She turned away from him, pointedly ignoring his direct gaze as she looked around. "For one thing, there's more people. For another, I'm not paying attention to the piddling crowd when I'm playing. I'm in my zone, focused on the game, watching the puck and the plays. Always ready, you know?"

Caleb chuckled again, the sound low and warm and way too close to her ear. Shannon turned her head then nearly jumped when she saw how close Caleb's face was to hers. When had he shifted so close? And why the hell did her heart do that stupid little skip when she saw the way his gaze dropped to her mouth?

She jerked back, putting a few inches of space between them as she focused on the game. It should have been easy to do—she had a great view of the ice and the Banners were on fire tonight, having already scored twice. But instead of watching the game, she was thinking of last night and that stupid kiss, wondering again why he'd done it.

Wondering if he was going to kiss her again.

Shannon gave herself a mental shake and muttered incoherent words under her breath. What the hell was wrong with her? She was acting like a silly fourteen-year-old girl fawning over her first crush instead of a twenty-three-year-old woman who knew better than to get involved with a player. And that's exactly what Caleb was: a player. Smooth, suave, charming. Dangerous. And definitely up to something. The question was: what? And why?

She was fairly certain she knew the answer to the first question. It was the second question that confused the living hell out of her. Why was he bothering? What was he trying to prove?

Why her? And what was she going to do about it?

Too many questions, and she was entirely too short on answers. She shifted, ready to turn around and tell him again that she wasn't going to sleep with him—more to convince herself than anything else—when a player from Tampa snagged the puck and headed down the ice on a breakaway. Caleb jumped to his feet at the same time Shannon did, their shouts blending with the other twenty thousand screams of dismay.

Shannon's gaze darted to Luke Connelly, the Banners' goalie, noticed the way he scrambled back to the center of the net and nearly lost his balance. He hadn't been paying attention! What the hell?

She groaned and elbowed Caleb in the side. "He's out of position, there's no way he's going to stop it."

"He'll stop it."

"He's off-balance, he wasn't watching—"

"He'll stop it." Caleb's voice was sharp, edgy, the tone contradicting the words. Shannon glanced over, saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his dark brows lowered in a slash over his eyes. She turned back to the ice, holding her breath as the player moved closer to the net and pulled back on his stick. Connelly shifted to the right, anticipating the shot—

And missed it when the player readjusted and shot high and to the left. The puck sliced through the air and hit the back of the net before dropping to the ice. The red light above the net flashed as thousands of people groaned their anger and disappointment.

"Fuck." Caleb dropped back to his seat, his own anger clear in the set of his broad shoulders. "How the fuck did he let that in?"

"He wasn't ready. He was out of position. He wasn't paying attention. He—" Shannon's mouth snapped shut at the look Caleb leveled at her. It wasn't a bad look, not really. More like impatient and disbelieving.

"You could see all that?"

"You couldn't?"

"I was talking to you, not watching. I didn't think you were watching, either."

"I didn't need to be watching. I could tell as soon as I saw him what was going to happen."

"How?"

"What do you mean, how? It was obvious, even with a glance."

"Yeah, but how could you tell?"

Anger and disbelief unfurled in her chest. She opened her mouth, snapped it shut, then narrowed her eyes and leveled a cold stare at Caleb. "Seriously?"

Confusion flashed across his face. "What?"

"I cannot fucking believe you just asked me that question. I'm a fucking goalie, remember? I play hockey. I know the fucking game—"

"I know that."

"Are you sure about that? Because if you did, you wouldn't have just insulted me."

"You think—?" Caleb shook his head and started laughing, the deep sound unleashing a sharp bite of anger inside her. She thought about slugging him, thought about just standing up and storming off. He must have sensed her intent because he draped one strong arm around her shoulders, holding her in place. "That's not how I meant it."

"Sure as hell sounded like it to me."

"It wasn't. Honest. I was just wondering what you saw, what you were looking at. How you could tell at such a quick glance."

Did she believe him? She honestly wasn't sure. But she didn't want to draw attention to them, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt—and it had nothing to do with the way his arm was still draped around her, or with the way he was leaning in close and watching her.

"I'm a goalie, remember?" It was the same answer she had given him seconds before, only without the stinging bite. Laughter danced in his eyes and he leaned closer, his arm tightening around her.

"Yeah, I remember."

And holy shit, was he going to kiss her again? Right here, in front of everyone? No. No, no. No. Absolutely not. He couldn't.

Could he?

No, he wasn't. His hold around her was already loosening as he looked away. She expected him to move his arm, to stop holding her as he glanced around, but he didn't.

Shannon wasn't sure what to make of that, didn't know if she should move away from him or dislodge his arm herself. The fact that she wasn't sure what to do was almost as disconcerting as the weight of his arm around her shoulders. Since when was she so indecisive? And why was she getting so flustered?

Caleb's arm tightened around her, like he was trying to get her attention. He pointed at the giant screen suspended above center ice. "Hey, look. It's the Kiss Cam."

"What?" Shannon looked up then rolled her eyes. "Ugh. I hate that stupid thing."

"Hate it? Why?"

"Because I do. It's stupid. It puts people on the spot."

"Nah. It's all just fun."

Shannon watched as the camera panned in one unsuspecting couple. The guy was watching his phone, completely ignoring the embarrassed woman next to him. The woman nudged the guy, then slid down in her seat and covered her face with her hands as the crowd booed.

Shannon looked over at Caleb with a smug smile. "See? I rest my case. It's stupid and embarrassing and puts people on the spot."

The crowd broke out in a loud cheer, applauding and whistling and shouting encouragement. Shannon ignored the sudden grin on Caleb's face and rolled her eyes. "Let me guess: some couple is really hamming it up."

Caleb's grin widened, laughter dancing in his eyes as he looked at the screen then back at her. "Not yet, no."

"Then what—"

"Look." He motioned with his head, his eyes never leaving hers as the crowd cheered even louder. Shannon turned, her gaze darting to the giant screen—

And froze when she saw her shocked face staring back at her from center ice. Only it wasn't just her face—it was her and Caleb, their faces framed by a flashing pink heart.

A flush heated her cheeks and she looked away from the screen, shaking her head as she tried to say no. This wasn't funny, she didn't want people to think they were together.

And she didn't want him to kiss her again, not like this. Not for show for some stupid camera.

But Caleb leaned closer, laughter and something else flashing in his eyes. She saw his lips move but she couldn't make out his words, not over the sound of the wildly cheering crowd. She wanted to tell him no, tried to move away, but it was too late.

His lips met hers. Soft and warm. Tempting. Inviting. His tongue swept across the seam of her lips, dipped inside her mouth and tangled with hers. Slow. Deep. Thorough.

This was nothing like last night's brief meeting of the lips. Not even close. This was…this was too tempting. Too dangerous.

She told herself it was for the camera, that was it. It meant nothing. She couldn't let it mean anything.

For the camera. The crowd. Nothing more.

But she didn't care. Couldn't make herself care. Not yet. Not right this second.

Because Caleb was kissing her.