Chapter Twelve
Sterling
From the first time I’d learned his name and watched him play, Denis Bouvier had projected a larger-than-life image. It wasn’t merely his height or pure physical perfection. Most athletes I’d met during the course of my career were big and strong.
Something in his overall attitude, that brash cockiness or air of arrogance he carried with him, made him eminently frustrating and annoying as hell.
Unfortunately for me, it also sparked something else I hadn’t been willing to recognize or accept.
As much as I hated to admit it, the total package—looks, talent, ego—also made him unforgettable.
Desirable. So damn sexy that I hadn’t been able to put that kiss we’d shared out of my mind.
I was home as usual on Friday night and searching for something late to watch.
I’d decided to stop on the hockey game, and damned if I hadn’t gotten caught up.
Of course I’d focused on Denis and appreciated his quick reflexes and his strength.
I’d winced at the fights that broke out among the other players.
But nothing prepared me for the sheer horror of seeing him lying on the ice, writhing in pain after getting slammed into the net so hard, it became dislodged from the ice. I sat transfixed, watching as two players had to help him walk because he couldn’t put weight on one leg.
“Fucking hell,” I whispered and switched around to find the sports news, assuming it would be a top story and they’d have an update. I found a press conference with their coach, where he announced that Denis had been taken to the hospital for evaluation.
“Son of a bitch.”
Knowing Denis’s fierce competitive spirit, I couldn’t even imagine his state of mind.
I paced my apartment, waiting for an update, and when it was revealed it was a groin injury and he would be on the injured roster for maybe a month, I hurt for him.
Denis lived for hockey, and to have that stripped away was like cutting him off from his identity.
I had to find out what was happening. Was he staying in Chicago for treatment or coming home? Adrian would know. Without taking time to think that it might seem odd for me to ask, I sent him a text, and to my surprise, he responded immediately.
I spoke with Rip, and he said Denis is coming home with them. He’ll be examined by the Blades medical team.
Thank you.
That didn’t tell me much beyond what I already knew. I should be satisfied.
I wasn’t.
Saturday afternoon, after my yoga, run, and shower, I sat in my kitchen and drank my tea, wondering if Denis was home and how his evaluation went at the hospital in Chicago.
Frustrated, I shook my head. I had work to do, and thinking about a hockey player wasn’t going to get it done.
Surely Denis had friends on the team who’d check up on him.
And if not, they would arrange something.
He was one of their superstars. They’d take care of him. He wouldn’t be alone.
Would he?
After an hour of staring at the same page of notes, I threw my hands up and spoke to the ceiling. “I’m a dumbass, aren’t I?”
I grabbed my keys, wallet, phone, and left my apartment, making one stop on my way to Brooklyn. The doorman let me up, so I was confused when Denis opened the door and his eyes widened with shock.
“Sterling?”
“Hello. Can I come in?”
With some difficulty, he shifted, allowing me to pass, then closed the door. I held up a shopping bag. “I heard the news late last night and thought maybe you’d need some things.”
God, he looked like hell.
“Adrian and Rip brought some stuff, but thank you.”
I walked to the kitchen, and he followed, slowly. Knowing how athletic and strong he was, to see him in this condition hit me hard. Harder than I’d anticipated.
“I’m so sorry this happened.”
He leaned the crutches against the island and eased himself onto a chair, wincing with every movement. “Are you? Well, that’s nice to hear. But you didn’t have to come all the way down to Brooklyn to tell me.”
“I’m trying to be nice.”
“Why?” He shrugged, not meeting my eyes.
“As you said last time, we’re not friends, and I bullied my way into your apartment, uninvited.
Yet here you are, weeks later, after total silence, and nothing’s changed.
We’re still not friends, and now you showed up to my home, uninvited. Do you want to gloat?”
Horrified, I dropped the bag on the floor. “What? No. Of course not. I…I saw what happened, and I felt bad. I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone.” I bowed my head. “I apologize for my poor choice of words. I didn’t mean them.”
“Whatever.” He waved a hand in the air. “The team is sending someone to help me, so you don’t have to concern yourself with that. He’ll help me keep ice on it and check the compression bandage.”
It all sounded extremely uncomfortable, and my sympathy outweighed my earlier annoyance. “That’s good. But they’re not here yet?”
“No. They’ll be coming sometime today. Look. It’s very nice that you came, but—”
“I’ll stay until they get here,” I blurted.
He raised his head, those dark eyes narrowed. “Why? The only thing I really need to do is take a shower.” His lips curved in that rakish smile. “Are you offering to wash my back? And front?”
I rolled my eyes. “Very funny. And no. But I can help you walk or get comfortable. Change your ice packs.”
“Again, why? Isn’t that something a friend would offer to do?” He arched a brow.
“You’re fucking impossible. You know what? Fine. I’ll leave.”
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket to answer. The motion triggered something, and I watched his face whiten. The phone dropped from his hand and landed on the floor. Lines of pain etched deep grooves in his cheeks, and he groaned and swore.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I raced to his side. “What’s wrong? What can I do to help?”
“Don’t fucking know,” he panted. “Just…please…help me to the couch.”
I slipped my arm around his waist, and with him leaning heavily on me, we slowly made our way across the living room.
“Can you sit?”
“I’ll try.” Sweat poured off his brow, and I could almost hear the grind of his teeth. Shit. This was no joke.
My anxiety spiked, and I held one of his elbows as he lowered himself to the cushions. I exhaled a sigh of relief when he made it.
Still pale, he lay still with his eyes closed. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Of course, what is it?”
“I have a special ice pack in the freezer. Could you get it and bring it to me, please?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I left him and hurried to the kitchen. I found what I assumed to be the ice pack—a large contraption with Velcro strips.
Upon my return, I stopped short. He’d pulled his sweats down to his knees.
Instead of briefs or boxers, he wore a skintight pair of athletic shorts with a bandage wrapped around his right thigh and groin.
Unfortunately for me, it did nothing to conceal the fact that Denis was extremely well endowed.
My mouth dried as my stomach tumbled. “What are you doing?” I rasped, looking everywhere but at his exposed lower half.
“What do you mean?” He looked as innocent as a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. And just as naughty if the twinkle in his eyes was any indication.
“You took your pants off.”
His gaze dropped to his lap. “Bien s?r. You have to put the ice pack directly on the area. How else could that work? My pants would get wet. That wouldn’t be comfortable.”
My lips tightened. Denis spoke simply, as if I were a child. While his explanation made sense, I couldn’t get past the feeling that I was being played. Only I couldn’t figure out how.
“Me? You want me to put that on you? Can’t you do it yourself?”
“No. So if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll lift up and you can slide it underneath me.”
“Won’t that hurt?”
“I’ll be okay. Could you, please?”
While I came to help him, touching Denis so intimately hadn’t crossed my mind, but I could hardly refuse.
There was no faking his injury. With reluctance, I nodded, and he braced his hands on the couch and raised his hips.
I leaned close and placed the contraption on him. My fingers brushed his leg.
“Sorry,” I muttered and closed the strap.
“I’m not.” His hand closed on my wrist, and I stilled. A muscle ticked in Denis’s jaw. “I lied. It hurts like a bitch.”
“Then let me go.”
His grasp tightened. “I have a high tolerance for pain. But zero when it comes to having you near me.”
My breath caught as he tugged me close, and I wanted to pull away, but for some reason, at his touch, I became immobile. This was madness. The man was injured.
“You should let me go,” I whispered, my voice fading as his fingers skated up to my elbow. The hairs on my arm rose.
“I should do a lot of things I don’t,” he teased, and I wondered if everything was a game to him.
The buzzer sounded.
I came to my senses and yanked away.
“Can you get the house phone, please?” he asked, maddeningly serene. The bastard.
“I-I have to get going. Things to do. Work to catch up on.” I sounded like a babbling fool and almost ran across the room to the intercom. “Hello?”
“Dane, the aide for Denis, is here?”
“O-okay. Let him up.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Denis called out and spread his arms wide on the couch.
Oh, yes I did.
“Tell your aide to put away the things I brought—there’s probiotic yogurt, supplements that are good for inflammation, and some other things.” Denis had become way too much of a temptation. I had to resist him.
At the sound of the bell, I flew over to the door and opened it. In walked a god of a man—tall, square-jawed, thick blond hair, and eyes so green they looked unreal.
“Hey, how are you? I’m Dane.”
“I—he’s on the couch.”
Dane’s brows drew together. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
“No. Never.”
I wanted to leave, but I waited as Dane crossed the room and greeted Denis.
“Dude. How’s it goin’? What the hell, man? That was a royally fucked-up hit.”
“C’est la vie. If you’re as big a player as I am, you’re always a target on the ice.”
My stomach churned watching them kiss hello. It was obvious the two of them knew each other beyond hockey player and sports therapist. Dane reminded me of the surfer guys who posed on Venice Beach, their sleek, tanned torsos oiled and gleaming.
“You know it. The Blades are paying me to take care of you, so I’m at your disposal. I’m here for whatever you need.”
I’ll bet he was. And from the way Denis smiled up into his eyes, I could only imagine what services Dane would be performing.
Denis glanced at me. “Oh, I didn’t know you were still here.”
My face flamed at the slight. “I was just leaving.”
Denis shrugged. “Thanks for stopping by. Dane works in the physical therapy division for the Blades. He helped me out once when I rolled my ankle on my skates and gives the best massages. This is Sterling Forest, the newscaster.”
“Oh, yeah? I don’t listen to the news. Too depressing. I only catch the sports and flicks. I’m a movie buff.”
Why was I not surprised that a friend of Denis’s wasn’t interested in the world they lived in?
“The door locks behind you, so don’t worry,” Denis called out. “Have a great night.”
Shaking with anger over being dismissed like a delivery person, I finally forced my feet to move and got the hell out of there. The door slammed behind me, and I had to wait for my head to clear.
Damn it. I clenched my hand in a fist. Why was I such a fool? Denis was an incorrigible flirt and didn’t care who his intended target was—if the man breathed and had a pulse, Denis Bouvier would make a move.
“The man is a walking hormone. He can’t take anything seriously. Good thing I got out of there. I might’ve done something stupid I’d regret.”
But judging by my inability to work the rest of the day and a restless night filled with dreams of Denis and our almost kiss, my real regret might’ve been walking away. And that was the scariest thing of all.