Chapter 5
Sloane
An almost kiss.
When Beck had lowered his head inside the bar, I’d thought for certain he’d planned on kissing me.
My first reaction had been to tense, which no one would blame me for since we were strangers.
However, my second had been more complicated.
I’d come this close to fisting a handful of his shirt and holding him in place while capturing his mouth.
The feeling had been so overwhelming that I’d seen stars. This was so far from my usual behavior. That had been one reason I’d packed up and left.
Complications weren’t on my agenda.
What the hell was I doing?
The man, no matter how sexy and articulate was off limits.
However, wishing he’d followed through with his promise of crushing the jerk in the hallway was fair game.
While I’d been certain the guy was nothing but a drunk from the hotel, I had noticed him sitting in the back of the bar watching the group of hockey players.
Since he’d been in the bar before my arrival, I hadn’t thought much about it.
At least I would keep an eye out for him.
Right now, I wanted to indulge in the tingling sensations caused by my overactive imagination.
Two dirty martinis and my entire personality had changed. I’d suddenly become frisky. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d allowed my guard to fall. Certainly not with an athlete. There were ethics and bias issues that if challenged could destroy my credibility if not my career.
I’d certainly had no intention of allowing even a thought of impropriety to enter my mind. hell, I was lucky I’d survived dating my boss, forced to fight for my standing for two years.
There were a dozen or more reasons to continue pushing Beck away. However, he had come to my defense. Even if I was handling the jerk just fine all by myself. Although I now had the same thought about the guy as Beck.
He’d acted drunk until he hadn’t. The eyes never lied, much like Beck’s showed concern right now.
Plus, the jerk’s hold on my arm had been more forceful than any drunk I’d ever experienced.
Maybe I was just falling prey to the craziness of the percentage of people still boycotting sports events.
Although the arena had more tailgating fans than haters outside, I’d seen a few horrible posters being carried by protestors outside.
At least until the police had calmed them down before fights had broken out. By the time I’d left, the groups had dispersed.
“You’re really going to follow me,” I told him as I looked over my shoulder. “You’re going to remain my shadow.”
“Just call me Lurch.” His attempt at using a monster voice was a pleasant surprise and I burst into laughter.
In fact, he’d allowed me more than one moment of frivolity during the limited time spent with him.
Rare indeed. When I stopped, he was suddenly right behind me, his towering body creating a shadow even at night.
While walking the grounds of the sprawling hotel and with the adobe casitas positioned on several different knolls with dimly lit walkways separating buildings, a single woman could feel anxious of boogeymen hiding behind the cactus.
Whoever the jerk had been in the hallway of the main building, it had been evident he’d followed me as soon as I’d left the restroom. Maybe having a companion for the remainder of my walk could be considered prudent instead of a blatant overture.
“Alright, Lurch. Since you’re insisting on proving your chivalry, you can walk me to my suite. After that you’ll need to go.”
He took a step closer, flanking my side. My God, the man was huge. And strong. Enough that he’d dragged the jerk off the floor as if lifting a ragdoll.
I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but I’d been impressed and had a few seconds of swooning. I could only imagine how other reporters would react if the little tidbit of information got out.
“Yes, ma’am. I aim to please.” His voice held a different sound than before. When in the locker room and even only minutes before in the bar, his tone had been a dead ringer to any other jock. Always putting on a show. Always trying to prove his worth.
The deep timbre of the man standing beside me was more thoughtful, a quieter representation of the man behind the jersey and big fat stick.
As soon as I had the thought, another laugh slipped free.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Do you ever get tired of the fans?”
“The fans? God, no. They are the reason hockey is so huge. They provide the energy that not only allows me to have a career doing something I absolutely love, but also continues pushing the sport into a higher level of professionalism.”
We were walking, but the urgency in getting to my destination wasn’t nearly as strong as before.
I slowed my pace even further so I could glance at his face.
I’d been able to read people pretty well over the years.
Being observant was part of the job. He was being genuine.
“I agree. I’ll need to put that in the article. Any misgivings about fame?”
He groaned, even tilting his head toward the sky while rubbing his face. “Everything. The pressure. The knowledge this career won’t last but so long. The challenge every night to be taken seriously.”
When he looked away, I could easily tell he was hesitant with being truthful with me. “What else?”
“Nah. You won’t hear some Big Dog whining.” His grin had the power of creating tingles, which wasn’t in the least bit appropriate.
“A certain amount of whining is… okay.” I almost said sensually. Why was it that I had a distinct feeling he could read my thoughts?
“The expectations.”
“Of winning the Stanley Cup?”
His huff almost faded into a laugh. “Yeah, something like that. I’m curious, Sloane. Why didn’t you ask me what it feels like to be a wolf on the ice?”
“Does it feel any different?”
He narrowed his eyes as if I was teasing him. “I’m human when on the ice.”
“I didn’t think otherwise.”
“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised what shit gets tossed out.”
“I’ve read enough and seen enough. However, you’re a man with trust issues.” We turned a corner and I pointed to the set of natural stairs leading to the casita.
“I’m a man who knows better than to open up to a reporter.”
“Ah, the reality of my life. The games people play.”
The shrug of his shoulders drew my attention. “In my experience, everyone plays games if it’s to their benefit.”
“Oh, you sound like me. Is your favorite song the somebody done something wrong tune? Classic record.”
He laughed. “I’m not that jaded, but when you play with the big dogs, you need to worry about being bitten. Woof.”
His bark was as unexpected as the interview had been. Now that we were standing at the bottom of the stairs, there was a level of awkwardness that even the jaded banter in the bar couldn’t hold a candle to. I wasn’t used to being unable to find something snarky to say.
With the profession I was in, I could make small talk with any man no matter the circumstances or his title. With Beck, I was uncertain my tongue was working. Finally, I pointed toward the building that had a spectacular view of the mountains. “This is me.”
“A suite, huh? You must make a lot of money chasing around soon to be has-been sports stars.”
“Hardly. This was a bribe.”
“A bribe?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I was supposed to be at an engagement party for one of my friends. The hottest bar in Chicago where all the men have gone through more plastic surgery than any of the glamorous Barbie dolls. By this point of the evening, my feet would be killing me since the dress code included me wearing six-inch stilettos.”
“Instead of your festive tennis shoes?”
“I know, right? How dare she.”
“The color is perfect on you.”
I shifted one hip in front of the other, pointing my toe. “I have them in every color.”
“Oh, baby. Now you’re speaking my language. Although I cannot tell a lie. I am a guy. Seeing you in high heels would spark my… interest.”
“While wearing what with them?”
He lifted a single eyebrow, which created a strange and almost suffocating moment of shared heat between us. “What else would you be doing at this fancy bar?”
“Hmmm. I’d certainly be drinking the most expensive bottle of champagne in the house since the groom to be is a rich asshole. Oops. Did I say that?”
“You did. Does your friend know of your special connection with this man?”
My snort was also unexpected. “I love her like a sister, but she hasn’t and won’t listen to me. The man is cheating on her. I can’t prove it, but I feel it in my gut. The lousy asshole also has bad taste in champagne.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You know what you could do.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, you could flirt with him and when he comes onto you, you could take pictures as proof. You might lose a friend at first, but you’d save her from having three kids, a golden retriever, a minivan, and a husband who didn’t give a shit about her. In the end, she’ll thank you.”
“You think so?” His idea had some merit.
“I think that would be delightful.”
“I’ll tell you a little secret. I think he has a thing for hot men instead.” I was teasing, of course, but the serious look on his face was priceless.
“Then you could send me.” For a blip, I thought he was serious.
When I gasped for air, he bumped his shoulder against mine and a shocking wave of electricity jolted every muscle in my body.
“Yeah, on second thought, I’d likely kill the guy.”
“Just like the poor asshole who made the mistake of accosting me a little while ago.”
He had a way of grinning while lifting his eyebrows that made him look like a little boy. “No one touches my wife.”
The crackling air between us was something different. With most men, the air was laced with too much cologne and testosterone. His aftershave was a seductive blend that whispered of Italian leather, a touch of whiskey, and late-night secrets.
“About that divorce. I’ll want to keep the vacation home in Scottsdale.”
“As long as I get full custody of the mountain cabin.”