2
Nadia blinked at Nelson, then narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the lucky break I just caught. The one you made happen.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you!” Nelson laughed. “The only reason Reid spoke to me was because of you. When I walked up to him in the locker room, the first words out of his mouth were, ‘Who was that babe you were sitting with?’”
Nadia gaped at her brother. Reid Holden called her a babe? “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Nelson couldn’t have looked more pleased. “Dude is totally feelin’ you, Nadia. And judging by the way you were acting, you’re feelin’ him too.”
Her cheeks flamed with heat. She darted a nervous glance toward the locker room door, then grabbed her brother’s hand and muttered, “Let’s get out of here before he comes back out.”
They left the arena and climbed into Nelson’s old Mazda. As he backed out of the parking space, Nadia punched him on the arm.
“Ow!” he protested. “What was that for?”
“For telling Reid that I’d come to the game on Thursday,” she said accusingly. “Why the hell did you do that?”
Nelson had the grace to look sheepish. “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out.”
“Yeah, right,” Nadia scoffed.
“It did, I swear!”
“Give me a break, Nelson.” Nadia shook her head in disgust. “I can’t believe my own brother’s trying to pimp me out to some hockey player.”
Nelson choked out a laugh. “Who says I’m trying to pimp you out?”
“You are!”
“No, I’m— Ouch!” he howled when she punched his arm again. “Dammit, Nadia, will you stop hitting me? I’m trying to drive here.”
She jabbed a finger at his face. “I’m not going to the game, so find someone else to be your puck bunny.”
Nelson laughed. “Puck bunny?”
“Isn’t that what they call hockey groupies?”
“Yeah. I’m just surprised you knew the term.” Nelson gave her an amused sidelong glance. “Trust me, no one would ever mistake you for a puck bunny. Not dressed like that anyway.”
“Good,” Nadia retorted, mutinously folding her arms across her chest and slouching in her seat. “I’m still not going to the game.”
Her brother groaned. “Aw, c’mon, Nadia. Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Look, aren’t you the one who told me to get a quote from Reid?” Nelson challenged.
“Not by using me as bait,” she shot back.
“Hey, it’s not my fault the guy took one look at you and fell into insta-love.”
Nadia snorted, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered at Nelson’s words. “He doesn’t even know me.”
“Doesn’t matter. He liked what he saw enough to want—hell, demand—an introduction.” Nelson flashed her a lopsided grin. “Aren’t you flattered to know that a famous hockey player has the hots for you?”
“No.” Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She was always flattered to receive attention from a hot guy. When said guy was Reid Holden, flattered didn’t begin to describe how she felt. Reid could have any woman he wanted. The fact that he seemed to want her was a serious mind fuck.
It wasn’t that she thought she was ugly or anything. She knew she was attractive, even pretty. She had good skin, big brown eyes and full lips that she considered her best feature. She was average height, not too short or too tall. While she’d been blessed with a nice round ass, her small boobs could barely fill a teacup. When it came to her looks, she had no illusions about what she was working with. She knew she would always be the girl-next-door type, never to be mistaken for a runway model or a busty bombshell—aka, the types Reid went for.
Slowing to a red light, Nelson drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, then heaved a deep breath. “Look, Nadia, I know how you feel about jocks, and I know you don’t give a shit about hockey. But this is really important to me. Scoring an interview with Reid Holden could really take my career to the next level. I could get a job at the Post or somewhere even better. You know it’s always been a dream of mine to work for Sports Illustrated or ESPN.”
“Yeah, I know,” Nadia muttered. It was all he ever talked about.
“I wouldn’t ask you to come to the game if there wasn’t so much at stake.”
She sighed. “I know.”
Nelson smiled as if he sensed her caving. “If I got a better paying job, I’d be willing to go sixty-forty on our rent.”
Nadia snorted, giving him the side-eye. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Land the interview first.”
He laughed. “That’s what I’m trying to do. But I need your help.” He steered through the green light. “So what do you say? Will you come to the game on Thursday?”
Nadia frowned, gnawing her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
“C’mon, Nadi. Do this for me.” He paused. “I’d do it for you.”
She scowled. “Dammit, Nelson. You fight dirty.”
He laughed. “By any means necessary.”
Nadia shook her head in exasperation. “Let’s say I agree to attend the game. Then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what happens after the game? What if…well, what if Reid expects more?”
Nelson looked at her. Before he could respond, his phone went off. He plucked the device from the cup holder and checked the display screen.
“It’s Corrigan,” he said. “Hold that thought.”
Nadia waved a dismissive hand.
As Nelson answered his phone, she turned to stare out the window at the glittering lights of downtown Denver. Corporate logos glowed from the tops of modern skyscrapers. Beyond the tall buildings, the sprawling shoulders of the Rocky Mountains stretched across the landscape.
Nadia and Nelson had been born and raised in Denver. They left home for the first time to attend college in the Midwest. Although they’d enjoyed getting out from under their parents’ thumb, neither of them expected to feel so homesick. They’d missed Colorado’s perennial sunshine, the mountains, skiing, the Broncos, kickass Mexican food—the whole enchilada. So after graduation they’d hightailed it back home. Fortunately, they were lucky enough to land jobs in their chosen professions.
As Nadia gazed out the window, her mind drifted back to the encounter with Reid. She could still feel the strength of his hand wrapped around hers, feel the roughness of the calluses on his palm. She found herself wondering how his hands would feel against her sensitive skin, sliding up the inside of her thighs as he slowly parted them and—
“Sorry about that.”
Jolted out of her thoughts, Nadia gave a guilty start and turned from the window to stare at Nelson, who’d just gotten off the phone with his editor. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. He just had a few questions about an article I turned in yesterday.”
Nadia nodded. Because she hadn’t heard a word of his conversation, she asked, “Did you tell him that you got a quote from Reid Holden?”
“Not yet.” Nelson grinned. “I want him to be shocked shitless when he reads my column. Speaking of which, I need to get home and work on it so I can turn it in by midnight.” He threw Nadia an apologetic glance. “Mind if we just pick up a pizza on the way home?”
She sighed. The night was officially a bust.
“Sure. Why not?”
Nadia and her brother lived in a 1920s brick building in lower downtown, also known as LoDo. As Denver’s hip epicenter, LoDo was filled with trendy restaurants, bars, brewpubs and high-rises housed in historic renovated buildings. On most nights and weekends, the neighborhood was hopping as crowds flocked to the area in search of booze, good food and exciting nightlife. Between the drunk frat boys and the rowdy baseball fans streaming out of Coors Field, LoDo could get pretty noisy and hectic. But that was part of its appeal. After being raised in suburbia, Nadia and Nelson welcomed the frenetic energy of city life.
Carrying a large pizza box from Two-Fisted Mario’s, Nelson got off the elevator on the third floor and followed Nadia down the hallway to their loft. She unlocked the front door, stepped inside and flipped on the foyer light, then held the door open for her brother. As he moved past her, the fragrant aroma of hot pepperoni and cheese wafted up her nose and made her stomach growl.
Nelson laughed. “I heard that.”
“Shut up.” Grinning, Nadia closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolt.
Dropping her purse on the sideboard table by the door, she headed into the living room to switch on the floor lamp. It didn’t take many steps to reach it since the loft was so small, barely eight hundred square feet. But what it lacked in size it made up for in character with exposed-pipe ceilings, tall windows, exposed-brick walls and hardwood floors.
The living room was modestly furnished with a glass coffee table and a chocolate leather sofa and loveseat—hand-me-downs scavenged from their parents’ basement. With the money they saved on buying furniture, they’d splurged on a large flatscreen television, which was mounted on the brick wall above the fireplace. The loft also had a galley kitchen, two bedrooms and one bathroom.
“Beer or wine?”
Nadia followed the sound of Nelson’s voice to the kitchen. “Beer’s good,” she answered, crossing to the counter where he’d put two slices of pizza on two paper plates.
He grabbed a couple of cold beers from the fridge, twisted the caps off and handed her a bottle.
“Thanks.” She took a long sip of beer, then picked up a slice of pizza and bit into it, savoring the gooey cheese, spicy pepperoni and garlic-flavored tomato sauce. “Mmm. That’ll work,” she mumbled around a mouthful.
Nelson gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry about tonight. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“Damn right you will,” she grumbled, taking another swig of beer.
Nelson folded a slice of pizza and lifted it to his mouth. “Maybe after the game on Thursday…”
Nadia narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t push your luck.”
“C’mon, Nadia,” he cajoled. “Just come to the game.”
“Why? So you can dangle me in front of Reid like a piece of raw meat? Do you really think that’s the only way to get an interview with him?”
Nelson looked bemused. “Well…yeah.”
Nadia made a sound of disgust and shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
“What? I’m just saying—”
“Clock’s ticking. You’d better get to work.” She picked up her plate and left the kitchen before Nelson could harass her some more.
When she reached her bedroom, she shut the door behind her and crossed to the nightstand to set down her plate and beer. Grabbing the remote, she turned on the small plasma television she’d had since college. It was Tuesday, so none of her favorite shows were on tonight. Not that she was in the mood to watch anything. She just needed noise, something to distract her from thoughts of sexy hockey players with strong hands and panty-wetting smiles.
After channel surfing for a few minutes, she settled on an old black-and-white movie on TCM. It was His Girl Friday starring Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell.
Nadia kicked off her pumps and shimmied out of her slacks, then crawled into bed and grabbed her plate of food. She scarfed down her pizza while watching Cary and Rosalind trade clever quips and zingers. The screwball comedy was one of her favorites and always made her laugh. But tonight, for the first time, the snappy repartee between the charismatic actors couldn’t hold her attention as her thoughts returned to Reid.
She still couldn’t believe he’d insisted on meeting her. She’d thought it was a fluke when they made eye contact during practice. She’d told herself that she’d only imagined the pull between them. But she was wrong.
Because he’d felt it too.
The thought made her shiver as heat pooled between her legs.
Frowning, she gave herself a hard mental shake.
It didn’t matter that she and Reid were attracted to each other. It didn’t matter how unbelievably hot he was, or how guilty she’d feel for not helping Nelson advance his career.
The only thing that mattered was her need for self-preservation. She had no desire to get hurt by another jock.
Been there, done that, burned the damn T-shirt.