Chapter 2
NIKKI
This guy is a charming sweet talker, lighthearted and fun. But should I trust him?
I’m not into hockey players. Grayson and his friends played hockey. I was forced to sit in a minivan full of hockey gear emanating the most disgusting smell known to humanity, and listen to their stupid chirping. I played hockey because I love the sport, but boy hockey players—no, thanks.
But this man… I am powerfully drawn to him.
Not just because he’s a hockey player. That doesn’t hurt; I watched him on the ice tonight and wow, he’s good.
He’s strong and talented, with amazing hands, remarkable agility, a great skater.
That’s definitely attractive. But there’s more to it than that.
He’s effortlessly confident, strolling over to us earlier with athletic ease and a slow, boyish smile.
He’s charming and funny and oh so likable.
Last night at the draft, I wanted him on our team.
And when he bounded up onto the stage and greeted me with a handshake and a huge grin, I couldn’t take my eyes off the dimples that bracketed his smiling mouth and the russet hair curling out from beneath his baseball cap.
The attractive way his eyes creased up when he smiles.
The way he looked at me was warm with interest, and yet he’s been totally respectful.
I don’t get a creepy vibe at all from him, and I have pretty good instincts.
I get looked at that way a lot. It’s tiring, really.
It comes with the territory. And it’s really hard to know what’s real and what’s not. I feel like he’s real.
So I follow him.
He leads the way through the baccarat room to a lounge hidden away at the back and guides me to a small nook. The padded bench is crowded with cushions and heavy drapes curve over each side.
I give him an amused look as I sit. “You meant what you said.”
“Where did you think I was taking you?” He slides in next to me. “My room?”
“That did enter my mind.”
“So… are you relieved? Or disappointed?”
I slowly move my head from side to side, a smile tugging my mouth. “Maybe both.”
“Ah. Relieved, though? Really?” His mock affront is cute.
My smile spreads. “I mean, we just met.”
“True.”
A waitress in a skimpy black dress arrives at our table and sets paper coasters in front of us. “Hi.” She gives Marek a warm smile. “How are you tonight?”
“We’re great, thanks.” He looks at me. “Need another?”
We order more drinks and the waitress disappears.
“My family pushed me to keep going, too,” I tell him, picking up our earlier conversation. “Sounds like we both have supportive parents.” Well. Calling my parents supportive might be distorting things a little. Better words might be pushy. Aggressive. Ambitious.
“Yeah. Thank God for my parents. Hockey parents are amazing.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I hear your brother plays hockey.”
“Yes. I played, too.”
“You did?” His eyebrows launch upward.
“I really liked it. But I had to decide between music and hockey.”
“Amazing.” He seems fascinated by this.
“I’m going to skate with you guys in warmup tomorrow.”
His smile displays a set of perfect teeth. “That’s fantastic.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“And you’re performing at the game, too, right?”
“Yeah. I’m doing a set during the intermission.”
“I can’t wait for that.”
Aw. He seems sincere. My heart trips over a beat.
The waitress arrives with our drinks.
“You know what?” I say to Marek. “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah?” He looks up at the waitress. “Could we get a couple of food menus?”
“Of course.” She looks at both of us and I know she recognizes me. But she’s not being all fan-girly.
I look back at Marek. “Have you ever been to one of my concerts?”
“No, sadly.” He shakes his head. “I should take my sister to one. She’s a fan, too.”
“Oh, yeah? You have a sister?” I sip my cocktail.
“Mabel. We’re twins, actually.”
“That’s cool. Where is she? Where are you from originally?”
“We grew up in Pennsylvania. She lives in New Jersey, now, too. She’s dating one of my teammates, Ben Antonov.”
“Oooh, the team captain.”
He grins. “Yeah.”
The menus are delivered and we look over them. They’re from the Chinese restaurant next door, so we end up ordering things to share—pot stickers, kung pao chicken, jian bo beef, and fried rice.
I tilt my head. “And how do you feel about your sister dating a hockey player?”
He rubs his chin. “To be honest, I wasn’t happy at first. But it was more because they hid it from me.”
“Woof.” I purse my lips. “That’s not good.”
“Yeah. I was pissed about it. They were both staying with me at the time and I didn’t realize they were hooking up behind my back.
But Ben’s a good buddy, and a good guy, so once I saw they were both serious about each other, I got over it.
” He shrugs. “Mabel had been through a rough time and she deserved a good guy.” His eyes shadow and the slopes of his eyebrows dip downward.
“You look… sad. Is it your sister?”
“Yeah.” He dredges up a smile. “She’s good now, though.”
I can see how much he cares about her, which is sweet. “That’s good.”
Our food arrives and it takes up nearly the whole table.
“This looks like a lot.” I survey our dishes.
“You said you were hungry.” He gives me a wicked little grin.
“I’ll do my best. It looks really good.”
We dish up onto plates and pick up chopsticks. I take a bite of a pot sticker and it’s so good. “Mmmm.”
We talk more as we eat, about all kinds of things. He’s so easy to talk to. He listens with his head tilted just slightly, with genuine interest. And he teases me about how much I eat.
“You can really eat for a tiny little thing.”
“I can.” I grimace. “It’s not a good thing.”
“I like to eat, too. It’s a struggle for me to keep weight on sometimes.”
I make a face. “I wish I had that problem.”
“You’re perfect.”
I laugh and give him a deliberate up and down look. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Not so bad, huh. I’m not sure if I should be offended.”
“No.” I grin. “You know damn well there’s nothing wrong with your physique.”
“True,” he admits modestly. “I’m not sure you can properly judge right now, though. I think you need a closer look.”
I drop my chin and give him a look. “Nice.”
“For real, I could be hiding a lot of muscle under these clothes.”
Heat washes up into my face, but I don’t back down, letting my gaze wander again, then meeting his eyes. “It would be… interesting… to know if that’s true.”
Heat crackles in the air around us.
Wow. This is… unexpected.
We finish most of the food and talk more.
I hear about his hockey friends, I tell him about my two homes, one in New York and one in Los Angeles.
I tell him about growing up on Long Island and he tells me more about his twin sister.
And somehow, hours pass. In Vegas, it’s hard to know what time it is.
The skills competition didn’t end until ten, so now it must be… I don’t know.
I should go. I should get to bed. I need my sleep. I need to follow my routine.
That’s the voice inside me that’s been drummed into me since I was a teenager.
Tonight… I don’t care.
“Do you get nervous singing in front of a crowd?” Marek asks me.
“Of course.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you get nervous before a game?”
“Well… yeah. But over the years it kind of changes from being terrified to just having nervous energy, waiting to get on the ice. You know?”
“Yeah. I know. It’s more like excitement, now.”
“Exactly.”
“And you can use excitement in your performance.”
“Yeah!” He leans in closer. “That’s it. You use the nerves as energy. You just have to control it so you aren’t taking penalties or getting in fights.”
“Yeah, I try not to get in fights on stage.”
“Ha. Good policy. You know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I think if there’s a day where you’re not nervous or excited to perform—or play, I guess—that’s when you should hang it up. It’s part of being passionate about what you do.”
“Yeah.” He listens attentively. “That’s it.” He studies me with a look on his face that’s indecipherable—as if I might have knowledge about the origin of the universe, or whether there’s life beyond Earth.
“Obviously you’re passionate about hockey.”
He tilts his head, one corner of his mouth hooking up. “Yeah. Among other things.”
Now he’s flirty. I like it. “What other things?” I ask innocently, then take a sip of water.
He leans in, his eyes focused on mine. “I think I’m passionate about you, Nikki.”
My vocal cords seize up and I stare at him. My heart picks up speed. “We just met.” I repeat my earlier words in a low tone.
“I know. Weird, huh? But… you feel it too.”
I take pride in being honest. In the music business, that’s both an asset and a liability. But this isn’t music. “I do. It’s too soon to tell you that, though.”
“Why?” His gaze drops to my mouth and my lips part in response.
I blink. “Why?”
“Why is it too soon?” He reaches out and brushes fingertips over my cheek.
“Oh. Uh. We just met?”
“Eh. That doesn’t matter.” His brown eyes take a tour over my face as if he’s fascinated with me.
It’s… disturbing. Because I like it. And I’m kind of fascinated with him.
“I’m gonna kiss you, Nikki.” His fingertips still graze my cheek as his eyes roam intently over my face.
I’m vibrating with anticipation. Need. “Yes.”
His face moves closer, his eyes going heavy-lidded.
And I close my own eyes as his mouth touches mine, his hand sliding beneath my hair, behind my ear, to curve around my skull, his thumb pressing on my cheekbone.
It’s such a tender yet possessive gesture and I feel claimed. And safe. And so fucking turned on.
Our mouths press together in a slow, seeking kiss, and heat instantly blossoms in my core, my belly doing a flip of lust. Then he makes a sound of hunger, angles his head, and kisses me again, deeper, and I open my mouth and let him slide his tongue inside.
This time his growl sounds appreciative, and a moan rises in my throat.