The retrofitted DC–9 took off over Seattle within a blinding ball of morning light. Almost at once, seventeen window shades lowered on the aircraft as it headed into the rising sun and a five-game, nine-day road trip. Twenty minutes into the flight, the seat belt light went off and coats and blazers were stowed in overhead bins, ties loosened, and breakfast was served from the catering service hired to provide the special diet for twenty elite athletes, coaches, and staff. While some of the hockey players ate omelets and bacon and hash browns, Sean stuck to a bowl of oatmeal, Greek yogurt topped with blueberries, and a vanilla whey shake. Each loaded up on carbohydrates and protein to begin the game-day process toward an optimal energy build. Their individual diets were dictated by years of conditioning and team nutritionists, but most of all by superstition. Adam Larson ate sausage but wouldn’t think of allowing bacon to pass his lips, on account of the 2010 final against the Rangers when he’d been carried off on a stretcher from a groin injury after the pre-game meal of a bacon sandwich. KO didn’t eat dairy, and Sean refused Gatorade on account of a neutral zone spew at the Air Canada Cup Nationals when he’d played in the midget league.

After breakfast, Sean pulled out his phone and watched game tapes of the Red Wings defensive line. When Howard was hot, he locked low and wide and committed with split-second timing. When he was cold, he hung out in the blue ice and lost angles and opened up holes. The question was, how to make a hot Howard turn cold?

“Hey, Knox.”

Sean lowered his phone and tilted his head to the right and glanced a few rows down the aisle into left defender Butch “The Butcher” Ferguson’s red-bearded face.

“Look what I found on my porch before I left this morning.” He handed something to Brody in the seat behind him. Brody passed it along to Adam, and he dropped it on the table in front of Sean.

Love on Ice. He looked down at the local section of the Seattle Times and the bold title just above the picture of him and Lexie. The photo of them sitting on the couch in his condo took up half the page. They both smiled into the camera, looking relaxed and natural. Seeing it, no one would notice the underlying tension or guess that it was all a lie. No one but him knew that he’d tried and failed not to think of her naked the whole time. His arm around her shoulder had made him remember how she’d felt against his chest. Sitting next to her reminded him of how she’d looked sitting on top of him, the dip of her waist, her big breasts, and the deep blue of her eyes. Wild and the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He’d remembered how she’d felt, too. Soft and warm, their skin sticking together in the best places. She’d felt so good and tasted even better.

The photographer had captured a beautiful angle of her face, and Sean was relieved that he had a goofy look on his face. He unfolded the paper and read the caption beneath the photo: “I got a note from a mutual friend that Sean was waiting for me.” Lexie on why she left Pete Dalton at the altar. “He signed it with a little heart.”

The blood rushed from Sean’s head and the corners of his eyes pinched. Fuck.

“Sign my copy with a little heart,” the left defender said before his booming laugh filled the plane.

“Eat me, Butch.” Sean shoved the paper back down the row. It got as far as two seats before Tim Kelly paused to read it. “I never met a celebrity before.”

Just when he’d passed the new-guy hazing phase, this. He glanced toward the front of the plane to see if John had overheard the conversation. The only thing he saw was the sleeve of the coach’s shirt and part of one hand flipping through game tapes on his laptop.

“I met Adriana Lima at a Victoria’s Secret show,” Chucky bragged. “Never did get an article written about my love life, though.”

This wasn’t his love life. Sean pushed a big grin on his face like he wasn’t the least bit bothered by the story or the razzing. “Maybe you’re not as pretty as me.”

Brody upped the ante. “I met Scarlett Johansson after a Kings game a few years back.”

“Was that when she was dating Sean Penn?” Stony wanted to know.

“Why does that matter?”

“He put the dirty hippie taint on her,” Stony said. “It’s hard for a girl, even a girl like Scarlett, to recover from something like that.”

Several players laughingly agreed.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t do her because she dated Sean Penn?” Brody asked.

“No. I didn’t say that.”

“I met Milla Jovovich,” Adam boasted.

“She’s badass in Resident Evil,” KO said, and the conversation turned into a competition of who’d met the hottest celebrity.

Henrik Frolik, so fresh from the Czech Extraliga, said something, his accent so thick, no one understood a word. No one but ten-year veteran Martin Rozsival, who looked at everyone and said, “Petra Němcová.”

“Ah.”

“She’s hot, Henrik.”

Henrik nodded, and it was the next player’s turn. “I met Emma Stone at the last Spider-Man premiere.”

“I met January Jones when I played for the Rangers.” Paul upped the ante by adding, “And Kate Upton.”

“Kate Upton’s hot.”

“Did you see the picture of her cutting off her own shirt?”

“Yeah. Jesus.”

“I met Gordie Howe.”

A reverent hush fell over the plane. Meeting Mr. Hockey was better than meeting Gretzky or Messier or both. Better than three courses of Petra, Emma, and Scarlett, with a side of Kate Upton.

For the next few hours, the team settled in with their electronic devices, watching movies or game tapes or playing Big Win Hockey. The plane touched down in Detroit just before eleven a.m. A freezing wind whipped the tails of Sean’s coat and stung his cheeks as he walked from the plane to the waiting bus. A light snow flurry swirled around his dress shoes and he lifted his shoulders against the cold.

“Knox.” John Kowalsky caught up to him, his coat open and collar unbuttoned, seeming impervious to the cold.

Sean stopped and turned toward Lexie’s father, waiting. He and Lexie had stuck mostly to the truth the night they’d talked with her parents, but he was sure the newspaper article had dredged up a few more questions that Sean didn’t feel like answering. Mostly because he hated lying to John.

“Howard is sitting at 1.8,” he said over the wind as they moved toward the bus. “Decent. He’s worked blocker saves, but when he goes paddle down, he leaves his five open.”

“I saw that, too.”

John looked across his shoulder at him, creases fanning the corners of his eyes, with something that looked like a bit more respect. “I think if you go top shelf, you’ll find air up there.”

Sean liked this John a hell of a lot more than the man who’d called him a hotdog to his face and a nancy-pants behind his back. Guilt twisted and coiled inside his chest as he waited for the coach to mention the newspaper article and Lexie.

“That thing that happened the other night in my office.”

Sean had been waiting for this and mentally squared his shoulders.

“You keep your head in the game. We’re going to table that other thing.” John cleared his throat. “For now.”

The team loaded on the bus and John didn’t mention it. He didn’t say a word about Sean and Lexie when they all met for lunch and loaded up on pasta before the game.

Taking the ice in Detroit always tested a player’s ability to focus. The wave of boos and pelting insults surging from the Red Wings fans threatened to get inside a guy’s head and knock him off his game if he let it.

The insults from the players weren’t much better, but at least could be addressed.

“You want this? Huh?” the Detroit enforcer asked Sean as he tied him up against the boards. “You don’t want any of this.”

“You should have retired already.” Sean pushed back, fighting to keep his eyes on the puck. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

In the second period, the Chinooks were up a point and the insults got more personal. “You know the difference between your girlfriend and a walrus?” a Red Wing chirped as he jostled for position in the face-off circle. “One has a mustache and stinks like fish, the other is a walrus.”

Sean laughed as he easily hooked the puck and sent it cross-ice to Chucky. Sean knew for a fact that Lexie didn’t have a mustache and smelled like peaches.

Over the next two games, Sean took a few more insults directed at Lexie. It was part of the game and didn’t bother him. The same could not be said for Ozzy Osbourne and “Crazy Train.” Each time the song pounded through the arena, it filled his head with the memory of Lexie’s big beautiful breasts.

On day seven, the team landed in St. Louis, winning by two points but losing Butch due to a high stick to the cup that doubled him over and dropped him to the ice. As he lay curled on the ice, whistles blew, gloves dropped, and players mixed it up in the corners, resulting in a combined fifteen penalty minutes and a four-on-three advantage. Sean took three shots on goal, each deflected by Rask.

He took his place in the face-off circle in the end zone and crouched with his stick across his knees, waiting for Paul to get situated inside the circle across from the Blues center.

Blues defender Marty Holt bumped Sean’s shoulder as he took the spot next to him. “I almost didn’t recognize your girlfriend with her back shaved.”

If Sean had been in a good mood, he would have laughed. Lexie had a beautifully smooth back. Too bad he was pissed off, frustrated, and feeling the pressure to get one in the net while they still had the advantage. “You’re a slow dusty fuck.” He put his blade on the ice and kept his eyes on the puck suspended in the referee’s hand mid-circle.

The puck dropped and Paul dug it out from the other man’s stick and fed it to Sean. He passed it behind him to Chucky just before Hutchison hit him hard, but if he thought he could knock Sean off his skates, he was doomed to disappointment. Sean pivoted free in time for Chucky to shoot it back. He cushioned the puck in the curve of his blade, faked a wrister, but pulled a backhander out of his bag of tricks, finessing the puck between the goalie’s pads. The red light flashed and the goal horn blew. Some of the pressure lifted from Sean’s shoulders as he lifted his stick in the air. At once, his teammates surrounded him and slapped him on his back and shoulders with their big gloves. “How’d you like that one?” he called out to Hutchison as he skated to the bench, bumping gloves with the other Chinooks.

“Suck it, you overrated pigeon.”

Sean laughed and looked up at the scoreboard. They were up by one point. He’d feel a lot better if it was two. He sat between Paul and Jay Lindbloom, a rookie so fresh his game beard looked moth-eaten.

“That was a beauty, boys,” John said from behind him.

Sean squirted water into his mouth and looked over his shoulder. The coach’s attention was fixed on the ice but a smile curved his lips. Sean swallowed and bumped knuckles with Chucky.

Being up by one wasn’t enough to satisfy the Chinooks’ bloodlust. The hits got harder, the verbal abuse more caustic.

“Good one, Lenny,” Stony called out, heckling the Blues winger when his pass bounced off his teammate’s left skate.

“Yeah, if you’re trying for the worst pass of the year,” Brody added.

With a minute left in the game, KO hit the Blues front-line forward, who had the misfortune of falling on his ass in front of the Chinooks bench.

Paul hit his stick on the board as the whistle blew. “Are you going to sit there and cry, little girl?”

Sean leaned forward and looked down at the guy, who’d raised himself to one knee. Before playing for the Chinooks, Sean had been on the receiving end of a KO hit and knew what it was like to have the enforcer knock the breath right out of his lungs. That didn’t keep him from saying, “Show some class. Get up, you fucking sissy.”

“Yeah. Show some class, you donkey baby.”

Sean looked across his shoulder at Jay. “‘Donkey baby?’”

The rookie shrugged his shoulders inside his big pads.

Sean and Paul laughed as they stood and scissored their legs over the board, onto the ice. Thirty seconds later, the horn blew and Sean was more than happy to put the game behind him. In the locker room, he took a hot shower, warming his muscles and soothing the hard hits to his body. The team’s assistant coach informed everyone that Butch was on the injured list and was expected to stay there for at least two more weeks.

Sean lagged behind and had the Chinooks massage therapist work out the kinks in his lower back and rub out the pain in his shoulder from the hit Hutchison had put on him. By the time he got dressed in his tie and blazer and grabbed his coat, most of the boys had left the Scottrade Center. The sun had set over the Gateway Arch lit up in blue, and the temperature rolling off the Mississippi had dropped to forty-five degrees as he walked the two blocks to the hotel alone. The team wasn’t flying to Boston until the next morning, and Sean looked forward to room service and a good eight hours of sleep. As he entered the Hyatt, his phone vibrated with a text message from Lexie, letting him know that she’d sent him an updated memo and he should check his e-mail and get back to her “ASAP.” His back felt better and his shoulder wasn’t as sore, and the last thing he was going to do was read her damn memo and give himself brain damage. He hadn’t been able to get through the others she’d sent, and he’d rather stab himself in the head than read any more of her sections, subsections, and bullet points.

“Knox.”

Sean looked up at Lexie’s father standing by the bank of elevators. He returned his cell phone to his blazer pocket. “Hey, Coach.”

“What’s put that pained look on your face?” John asked as if he already knew the answer to his question.

“Your daughter and her memos.” The doors slid open and the two waited for a mother and three children to exit before they stepped inside.

“She gets that from her mother’s side. What floor?”

“Ten.”

The doors closed as John punched the ten and eighteen. “I never would have picked you for Lexie.” Sean looked across his shoulder at the older man. “It’s nothing personal, I never would have chosen a hockey player for Lexie. I would have chosen someone normal.”

“You don’t think hockey players are normal?”

He glanced at Sean. “You know the life. It can be hard on a family. I always thought Lexie should marry someone safe. Preferably a dentist. He’s home every night and our family gets a dental plan at a discount. And we need it. My son plays junior triple A and he’s only fifteen. You know he’s bound to lose a few teeth.” Both men almost cracked a smile. “I thought I had her convinced she needed a normal guy. Then she turns up on that damn TV show and ends up winning herself a husband.”

“Pete’s a jagwagon.” Compared to that guy, Sean probably didn’t look so bad right about now.

“Yeah. While she was picking out a wedding dress, I was picking out ways to kill him and get away with it.” The elevator stopped and number ten above the door blinked off. “For a person who likes detailed memos, she can be impulsive, and it gets her in trouble.”

The door slid open and guilt rushed in at Sean. “Good night, Coach,” he said, and stepped into the long hall.

John put a hand on the door to keep it open. “The other night at the Key, you didn’t come right out and say you love my daughter.”

Sean guessed they weren’t tabling the discussion and now was the time. He knew what John wanted to hear and thought of one of Lexie’s handy-dandy lists of pat answers. “The first time I saw her smile, I knew.” At least that’s what he thought it said. Then he swallowed past that lie and heard himself say, “I love her more with every breath, truly madly deeply.” Jesus, had he just quoted Savage Garden? He didn’t even like that damn song.

John’s brows pulled together across the creases in his forehead as if he was trying to figure out if he’d heard the lyrics and just couldn’t place them. Either that, or he was trying to figure out if Sean had turned into a girl. “That’s good,” he said, and stepped back further into the elevator. “That’s what a father needs to hear.” The doors slid shut on John’s puzzled face, and Sean felt heat rise up his neck and burn his cheeks.

He’d never quoted mushy love songs in his entire life, and he’d just poured out the most embarrassing sap to the person whose respect had slipped through his fingers. A man he’d admired growing up. A hockey legend, John “The Wall” Kowalsky.

He moved down the hall and pulled his key card out of his pocket. It was because he’d been rattled about the lie, he told himself as he unlocked the door and walked inside. If not for that, he never would have humiliated himself. If he wasn’t careful, he was afraid he’d go full Michael Bolton, or worse, Justin Bieber.

His roomie, Adam Larson, sat on one of the queen-sized beds with his feet crossed, watching television. The goalie glanced at Sean as he took off his coat and tossed it on the back of a desk chair. “Your cheeks are red. You must have been outside. Colder than a penguin’s balls out there.”

“Yeah.” That was it. He loosened his tie, and his phone vibrated in the pocket of his blazer. He pulled it out and read another text from Lexie.

Sean wrote, You told them no. Right? He buttoned the collar of his shirt and removed his tie and blazer.

Not exactly, she answered back.

What exactly did you tell them? He tossed his cell phone on the nightstand and tossed his garment bag on the bed.

She took a few moments to answer. I informed them that you’d consider it.

Of course she had. She was as pushy as her mutt. If he wasn’t careful, in her memo under public displays of devotion she’d write, “carries purse and buys tampons.”

Inform them that I considered it and said no. I’m not going to appear anywhere near that show. He pushed send and thought that was the end of the subject. Apparently, he was wrong. Two days later, he agreed to meet her at a trendy bar in Post Alley. She sat at a pub table and he had to push his way through a crowd of hipsters in skinny jeans and heavy beards, baggy plaid, colored tights and combat boots.

“Hello.” Not to be outdone by her surroundings, she wore ripped jeans, Nirvana T-shirt, and black leather jacket. She’d pulled her hair back, and she stood to greet him and offered her cheek for a kiss.

“Hello, baby,” he said above the noisy bar, and lowered his face to her dark red lips. Her mouth opened below his, as if she might have something to say. He took advantage of her parted lips and gave her a wet kiss. A publicly acceptable kiss that hinted at the kind of pleasure they enjoyed in private. He slid his hand up her back, under her leather jacket, and pressed her breasts against the front of his hooded sweatshirt. He wanted to catch her off guard and rattle her. He hadn’t planned on being rattled himself, instantly frustrated by the thick clothing that separated her naked breasts from his bare chest.

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes filled with surprise and a hint of sultry frustration. At least that’s what he liked to believe. He’d hate to think he was the only one feeling like they should move the party of two a few blocks away to his condo and get reacquainted.

He stepped back, and his hands fell to his sides. That kind of thinking was crazy. That kind of thinking led to doing, and doing led to more problems. Problems he didn’t need.

“This is my friend Marie,” Lexie introduced him to the other woman sitting at the pub table. “Marie, this is Sean.”

Lexie slid into a chair and Marie stood, or hopped down really. She was short, had dark hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail, and wore black glasses with little rhinestones at the corners. While Lexie wore hipster chic like a fashion choice, Marie’s Doc Martens, plaid skirt, and “Feminist As Fuck” T-shirt were clearly a lifestyle. She wore no makeup except deep red lipstick, and still managed to look cute as hell, in a feminist-as-fuck sort of way.

“Hello, Sean.” She shook his hand, and he noticed the crease between her blue eyes as if she was sizing him up in case she might have to kick his ass. Funny given that she was about five feet, two inches and weighed next to nothing.

“Marie drove me to the dock the night we took off in the Sea Hopper.”

Ah. The driver of the clown car. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She let go of his hand. “Thank you, Sean.” She retook her seat and he turned toward the bar and signaled a waitress. “What are you ladies drinking?”

Lexie took the last sip from her cocktail glass. “Golden Shower.” She smiled like she was going to enjoy hearing him order up one of those.

Marie held up a frosty mug and grinned. “Horny White Girl.”

Jesus. Within seconds a waitress stood in front of him with a big smile on her pretty face. If it wasn’t for the nose ring and lip piercings, and of course if he wasn’t pretending to be Lexie’s boyfriend, he might have seen if he could get more than a smile from her.

“Hello, Sean,” she said, and took a small notepad from her apron pocket. “I’m a huge Chinooks fan and was at the Anaheim game the other night. You guys are looking good this year.”

“Thanks. Hope you can make it to every game. We love to hear our fans getting rowdy.”

“What can I get for you tonight?”

“I’ll have an Amstel.” He motioned toward the table with his hand.

“Sean!” Lexie called out. “No.”

“I’ve got this one, babe. My girl would love another Golden Shower.” He waved in Marie’s direction. “And our friend is down for another Horny White Girl?”

“Can I interest you in truffle popcorn or chicken and lamb skewers?”

“None for me.” He turned toward the women. “Are you ladies interested in food?” They shook their heads and ducked their faces. “Is something wrong?”

Lexie said something he didn’t quite catch. He took the chair next to her and leaned in. “What?”

“This is a Lemon Drop and Marie is drinking Diet Coke.” She looked up at him. “We were joking!” Her cheeks were a nice scarlet color, and bright red rose up Marie’s neck.

“You should have told me!”

“I tried!”

He looked from one to the other and started to chuckle. Laughter from deep in his chest built and rose, rocked him back in his chair, drawing the attention of people around them.

The whispers of “It’s Sean Knox and Lexie” rose and grew louder until their table was surrounded. Just as Marie’s Horny White Girl arrived, she grabbed her leather backpack and said, “I’m out of here.”

“We’ll talk later,” Lexie told her friend as she slid her hand in his, resting on the table. It was for show. All for show, and he brushed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles.

“We’re happy in love, now,” Lexie answered a question thrown at them. “But yes, running from my wedding to Pete was scary as heck. I wasn’t sure what would happen. Only that I couldn’t marry one man when I loved another. I was anxious and frightened and uncertain what the future looked like for me and Sean.” Lord, she was a good liar. She gazed up at him, looking like she’d fallen so hard for him, it had turned her soft in the head. She was such a good actress; if he didn’t know better, he’d fall for it, too. “Then I saw him at the end of the dock, and I knew.”

The look bothered him more than the lie. Maybe because he couldn’t recall a woman looking at him like she was so deep in love she’d never find her way out. He’d had his share of girlfriends, and none had looked at him like that. Not even after he’d coughed up expensive gifts.

A question got lobbed at Sean and he pulled his gaze from Lexie. “Pardon me?”

“Didn’t it trouble you to see her in a wedding dress meant for another man?”

“No. I’m secure enough not to get bothered over a dress.” Which was true. He recalled her rolling around in that ridiculous dress, then buttons pinging around the fuselage as he ripped it down the back. “But I did have trouble getting her out of that damn dress.” He held up his free hand. “My fingers were too big for all those slippery buttons.”

“He says such romantic things to me.” The smile at the corners of her lips dipped a bit and she squeezed his hand. “Just last night, he told me he wished he could reach up into the sky and pull out the brightest star just for me.”

Jesus. She’d obviously OD’d on romantic quotes. She was making him look like he was soft in the head, too. A real lovesick wimp.

“I told him I don’t need stars. Just him to stand under them with me forever.”

“Ahh,” a few women sighed.

“And—”

“Baby.” He lowered his face and silenced her with a soft kiss. His hand slid up her arm to the back of her neck. “You’ll ruin my reputation in the league,” he whispered across her lips. She opened her mouth as if to respond, and he silenced her with a kiss, because God knew what she might say next. A long, deep kiss that tasted of lemon and sugar. A kiss that was meant to suck the breath from her lungs and give her something to think about besides those damn romantic sayings she’d probably found in an Internet meme. A kiss meant to slip inside and heat up the pit of her stomach, to make her heart beat a little faster, and leave her wanting more.

When the kiss ended, she opened her eyes wide and licked her lips. She wasn’t the only one heated up and wanting more. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, and he once again took her soft hand in his. They wove their way through the bar and out onto the street. Inky patches of overcast sky hid the stars she’d said he wanted to pull out just for her. A thick chill hung just above freezing and seeped through the weave of Sean’s hooded sweatshirt and jeans. Damp air clung to his cheeks and exposed neck and nipped at the tips of his ears.

“Are you planning on going to the Biscuit in the Basket fund-raiser?” she asked. Multicolored lights from storefronts shone in her blond hair and on the side of her face.

He’d heard something about the fund-raiser but hadn’t given it much thought. “Maybe.”

“All the money goes to youth hockey, but it’s a strictly twenty-one-and-older event. There’s lots of booze and gambling.”

He wouldn’t mind playing poker with the guys.

“I’ll get the tickets. It’ll be a good place for us to be seen together.”

Of course. They needed to be seen together. That shouldn’t bother him, but for some reason it did. “Where are you parked?”

“Parking lot down a block.” She dropped her hand from his and shoved it into her pocket. “Do you need a ride?”

“No. I jogged here.” The cool night air chilled his palm where it had pressed into hers. “I’ll jog back.”

“In this weather?”

“It’s only a mile or so.” He stuck his hands in his sweatshirt pocket. “I still get lost in this city, and it’s actually easier for me to get around on foot.”

They moved past a seafood restaurant and a coffee shop.

She looked up at him and her shoulder bumped his arm. “I could show you around.” She thought a moment. “Have you been to the Chihuly Garden? It’s by the Key and your apartment.”

“No. I really haven’t had a lot of time since I was traded.”

Her lips pursed as she paused in thought, and he wondered if she was trying to drive him crazy. “We’re limited this time of year,” she said, as if they’d still be pretend dating. “And I refuse to have anything to do with the zoo. Captivity is sad and mean.”

He could suggest a Woo-Hoo Tutu, but thought better of it.

“I help raise money for the endangered species, but that doesn’t mean I approve of warehousing animals. It’s just wrong.”

He didn’t like cruelty to animals as much as anyone, but he wasn’t opposed to a fur rug beneath his feet.

He grabbed her elbow and walked to the curb. He looked one way and then the other, then stepped into the street between a Prius and a micro car.

“The producers of Gettin’ Hitched contacted me today.”

He looked down the street at a headlight in the distance as she threaded her arm through his and hurried beside him. “They offered to move the taping to the Fairmont here in Seattle.”

“Still not interested.”

She cozied up to his side, and a lock of her hair rested on his shoulder. “They even moved the day to make it convenient for you.”

He looked down at her, getting all snug against him in order to warm him up. “I’m not getting anywhere near that drama.”

“It’ll be painless.”

“That’s what you said before.”

“That wasn’t my fault. It’s hard to find reliable leakers these days.” She shook her head and stepped up onto the curb beside him. “Please say you’ll come to the taping. Yum Yum and I could really use your support.”

They moved into the dark parking lot. “Sorry, you and your little dog are on your own with this one.” He was a nice guy, but he had his limits. He wasn’t nice enough to appear on that stupid show.

“The other girls are going to gang up on us. They can be really mean.”

They moved into the pitchy darkness between two cars, and he glanced down into the smooth shadows of her pretty face. She was a hell of a lot stronger than she appeared at first. More determined, too. “I put my money on you and your dog. You’re smarter than all those girls put together.”

She shook her head and pulled her keys from her pocket. “They’re going to ask me questions about you and that picture taken outside the Harbor Inn.” The car behind her made two beeps and the lights flashed twice as the locks popped up. “Personal questions that are going to make me look bad.”

“What happened that night is no one’s business but ours.” He didn’t need to see her face clearly to cup her cheek in the palm of his hand. “I had a good time. You had a good time. No one was hurt.”

“How can you say that? My business suffered.”

“Your business suffered the second you decided to run from the Fairmont. Don’t get it twisted.”

“I’m not. That shouldn’t have happened.”

But it did.

“They’re going to try and make me look skanky. I’m not like that. That night was . . . was . . .” She struggled for words.

“Was good.” He kissed her forehead and temple. “We’re adults, Lexie. You’re beautiful and hot, and sex with you is something I still think about.” Her mouth found his in the dark. Unlike the earlier kiss in the bar, there was no reason to hold back. No one was watching or acting or playing at anything. The instant her mouth touched his, everything got real hot real fast. No sweet kisses for the camera this time. With his free hand, he unzipped her leather jacket and slid his hand inside. Her ribs were warm against his palm, her breasts warmer. She moaned into his mouth and he backed her against the car door and shoved his pelvis into her belly. Her nipples were so hard, he felt them through her shirt and bra. He remembered the taste and softness of her, and he wanted that again. Right here. Right now. In a parking lot in Seattle.

She fed him another long, sweet moan and rocked against his full-blown erection. Hard and painful, craving the soft pleasure of her body. He grabbed the backs of her thighs, and she readily wrapped her long legs around him. Just like that night at the Harbor Inn, her fingers combed through his hair and he fanned her puckered nipple with this thumb, back and forth, feeling it grow harder beneath his touch. He wanted her. He wanted to slide his mouth all over her and make her his. At that moment, he couldn’t recall anything he wanted as much as he wanted her. By the sounds in her throat and the crotch grinding into him, she wanted it every bit as much. There was a part of him that knew he was only causing more trouble for himself. More chaos. At the moment, he didn’t care.

She pulled back and took a huge gulp of air. Without a second of hesitation, he slid his open mouth to the side of her cool neck.

“Sean.”

“Mmm.” He kissed her throat, feeling the varying degrees of temperature as he lowered his face.

“Sean!” She placed her hands on the sides of his head and brought his face to hers. Through the pitchy darkness she said, “Someone just walked into the parking lot.”

His hand squeezed her. “Then we’ll have to be quiet.”

The car behind him beeped twice, the lights flashed, and Lexie’s feet hit the ground before the locks popped up. His hand slid from her breast and she looked down at the ends of her jacket.

The threat of getting caught dry humping like a teenager did nothing to alleviate his hard-on. “Come home with me tonight,” he spoke to the part in her hair.

She shook her head and zipped her coat up practically to her chin. “Sex will just complicate things.”

Not for him. Sex was just sex. Sometimes fast. Sometimes slow. Not complicated unless someone wanted to make it complicated.

The phone in his hoodie vibrated and saved him from an argument he knew he would lose. “Yeah,” he answered without checking the number.

“I’m here.”

“What?” He actually pulled the phone from his ear and looked at the number. “Mother?”

“I’m here,” she repeated herself. “But I don’t have a key and the guy at the desk won’t let me in.”

“Where?” A bad feeling landed in the pit of his stomach. “Where are you?”

“Here.”

“In Seattle?”

“Yes. Where are you?”

Hell. “How did you get here?”

“Your friend with the frog plane.”

“Jimmy?” He glanced down into Lexie’s dark face. “Why are you here?”

“I’m your mother. Who else should help you plan your wedding?”

“Wedding?”

“I heard it on Wendy Williams!”

He looked out into the parking lot and the glassy rain puddles. “You shouldn’t get your news from Wendy.”

“I have experience planning weddings, you know.”

Yeah, she’d planned three of her own.

He looked at Lexie for help.

“Lexie’s a pretty girl, but you can’t expect someone special with a dusty attic to do it on her own,” his mother said.

Lexie slid into her car, and the dome light turned on just long enough for him to see the smile on her face and the laughter in her eyes. She probably wouldn’t be smiling so big if she knew his mother thought she was “special.”

“That trip just about killed my small bladder.”

He imagined she’d complained the entire trip. It served Jimmy right. “Hand the phone to the guy at the front desk.” One of the last things he needed was for Geraldine to chat it up with people in his building. Lexie gave him a little three-finger wave as she drove from the parking lot, and the taillights of her small SUV disappeared into the dark Seattle night. He instructed the front desk to let his mother into his apartment, then shoved the phone inside the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. A water droplet hit his forehead and ran down the bridge of his nose. Just as he looked up into the heavy night sky, inky clouds opened up and pelted him with cold rain.

He raised the hood over his head and ducked his face against the stinging downpour. By the time he’d jogged three blocks, his sweatshirt and shoes were soaked. At the corner of Broad Street and Second Avenue, a minivan raced through a yellow light and sent a spray of water up his legs to the crotch of his pants.

Fabulous. He was soaking wet, freezing to the marrow of his bones, and his mother waited for him at his apartment. He didn’t think his life could suck any harder.

“Would you like more tea, Geraldine?” Georgeanne Kowalsky lifted a china pot with tiny pink flowers painted on it and wrapped her hand around one side. “The water is still warm.”

“Yes, please.” Sean’s mother set her little matching teacup on the matching saucer and handed it over. She hadn’t mentioned the dog at the table, yet. Sean hoped she’d keep her rant about disease-spreading, filthy animals to herself.

“We serve a pink tea at several local retirement communities each year. The residents look forward to it, and we love it,” Georgeanne explained as she poured. “It’s a family tradition.”

Georgeanne’s Southern accent clung to her words like golden honey. If Sean listened close enough, he thought he just might hear “Dixie” playing in the background.

“Not my family,” John said as he reached for his tea and took a chug. His big hand dwarfed the delicate cup and looked as ridiculously out of place as Sean imagined his own did.

“John?” Georgeanne motioned toward her husband.

“No. Thank you, love.”

“Sean?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

A bowl of pink roses and lilies sat in the center of a round table covered in pink linen. Next to the bowl, fussy a two-tier stand was filled with girl food.

“Cucumber sandwich?” Lexie asked him as she picked up a pair of silver tongs. She stood beside him, looking beautiful in a pink dress that hugged her in all the right places. A pink headband held her blond hair from her face. If they’d been alone, he might have messed it up for her. She leaned a little toward the tray, and the back of her dress inched up her thighs. If they’d been alone, he might have inched his hands up her thighs, too. “I’ve got petits fours and cream puffs?”

“Sure.” Why not? He was in hell. He sat at a pink-covered table with John and Georgeanne, thinking about sliding his hands up their daughter’s thighs. His mother sat on his right, her pinkie out like she was the queen of England. Why not eat the tiny food? Maybe he’d choke to death and put himself out of his misery.

“You may notice that we are missing a few cream puffs.” Lexie pointed to an empty space on the tray. “I’m not sure where they went”—she paused to look across at the ugly dog sitting in John’s lap—“but someone had cream on her nose.” She set a small plate in front of Sean with two crustless little sandwiches; three pink squares, each with a red rose; and two cream puffs. The dog was dressed in a tutu again, and her beady eyes stared across at Sean as her black tongue snaked out and licked the tip of her nose. He reached for a pink square and pushed the cream puffs to one side.

“Did you do that?” John “The Wall,” Chinooks coach and hockey legend, asked the hairless mutt. The dog yipped and was rewarded with a piece of pink cake.

“It’s been a long time since you joined us for pink tea, Daddy,” Lexie said through a laugh as she sat next to Sean. She raised a cup to her lips and took a delicate sip.

“If I’d known John and Sean were joining us, I would have more to offer.” Georgeanne slid Geraldine’s cup toward her. “You should have given me a heads-up,” she told her husband.

Kicking back in his chair, dog in his lap, he shrugged. “When Knox mentioned his mother was here at Lexie’s, I thought I should drop in and say hello. Sean asked to tag along.”

Yes, so he could head off his mother if John asked too many questions, or if she happened to mention their daughter’s dusty attic. She’d been in town two days now, and he was fairly certain he’d convinced her that there wasn’t going to be a wedding anytime soon. He hoped she didn’t bring up her miraculous pancreas cure or her latest—diplopia. Or double vision.

“I’ve never been to such a fancy occasion.” Geraldine picked up a pair of silver tongs and placed a cream puff and a cucumber sandwich on her plate. For the “fancy” occasion, she wore a green pantsuit and yellow blouse. She’d curled her brown hair and put on some lipstick. If not for the eye patch, she would have passed for normal.

“We’re leaving in the morning, and I’d hate to miss the opportunity to meet Sean’s mother.” John tipped his chair back and looked across the table at Sean. “You met my daughter when she and Sean hightailed it to your place.”

“Oh yes.” Geraldine dipped a bag of Earl Grey into her cup. “It was all very romantic.”

“Huh.”

John still wasn’t totally buying the whole story and looked like he was gearing up to interrogate Sean’s mother. If that was the case, he and Lexie were screwed.

“John.” Georgeanne placed a hand on his shoulder. “We didn’t invite Mrs. Brown to tea so you could grill her about what took place in Canada.”

The legs of the chair hit the floor. John combed his fingers through the dog’s topknot. They’d agreed to shelve this discussion until after the season. When they talked hockey, they were on common ground. But this wasn’t hockey. This was about Lexie, and he still didn’t like the idea of Sean dating his daughter.

“I saw they were in love right away. That’s why I didn’t call Wendy and get that trip to Disney World. Or Hoda and Kathie Lee. Of course, I could never go to Cancun.” She paused to take a sip of tea. “I have sun sensitivity.”

Still with the Disney World. “Give it up, Mom.” But what did he expect from the most embarrassing woman on the planet?

“I’m still grateful for that.” Lexie leaned forward and looked at Geraldine. “You gave up a trip of a lifetime for true love.”

“Jesus. Pass the bucket.”

“Now, John.”

“Daddy!” Lexie reached for Sean’s hand on the table and entwined their fingers.

Yum Yum lifted her nose in the air and barked while Geraldine scooted as far from the dog as possible without falling on the floor.

Sean looked at the big man, the legend, surrounded by frilly, fluffy pink chaos, and he didn’t appear in the least threatened or miserable. He reached for a little square cake and tossed it above his head. He easily caught it in his mouth and chewed through a grin as if he was real pleased with himself. As if he’d maneuvered Sean into the perfect position for a slap shot to the nuts.

Sean wasn’t intimidated by anything. Least of all an explosion of tiny pink teacups and tinier food. He looked across the table at his coach and raised his and Lexie’s entwined fingers to his mouth. Sean fed him a one-timer and kissed the back of his daughter’s hand. Game over.

“Sean?”

She said his name, a hitch of surprise and a catch of wonder. He turned to look into Lexie’s deep blue eyes, and it would have been the most natural thing in the world to kiss her pink lips. To hover there for several breaths, teasing them both but giving in to neither. Within those teasing breaths, this game they played with each other suddenly felt real. So real, her eyes looked bluer and deeper. So real the edges of his solid world threatened to unravel. So real he felt held together by a thread so fragile he was afraid to breathe.

“More petits fours, Sean?” He let go of his breath and the feeling was gone. He shook his head and turned his attention to Georgeanne. “No thank you.” His throat felt dry, and he picked up his teacup in the palm of his hand. So fragile he could easily crush it. He downed the tea in two swallows and returned his attention to Lexie. She’d turned away, and all he could see was the shell of her ear, the single pearl in her lobe, and a tinge of pink climbing her throat. He’d seen color flush her neck before. When she’d been embarrassed or lying or making love. This flush in her throat and catch in his lungs wasn’t love, but it was more than desire. It was confusion and chaos.

It wasn’t a game anymore.