Her Man Advantage (13 page)

“I don’t know if I can get back to introduce you to them until the season’s over.” He tried to focus on the conversation instead of how good it felt to have her hand on him. “But if I can’t bring you to Cloquet, I can bring a little Cloquet to you. My parents are coming to town next week. Maybe you can meet them.”

His first clue that he’d done something wrong came when her touch evaporated like dew on a hot day. In an instant, she retreated in so many ways his brain could barely calculate them all, but her shuttered gaze was the one that spoke the loudest.

“Your parents?”

He realized she edged backward on the seat so that he’d have to stretch if he wanted to keep his hands on her. Carefully, he released her and tried to soothe her worries.

“Yes. I sent them tickets for our first home game in the playoffs. They’ll only be here for three days, but maybe we could have dinner together.”

She’d already agreed to dinner with him tonight, after all. And he hadn’t even asked to come upstairs with her, so it wasn’t as if he was pushing any kind of physical relationship. Still, she’d backed up so much she bumped the power-lock button with her elbow.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She gave him a halfhearted smile. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t realize how late it was and I have to work at the gift shop tomorrow. I really should—”

“Wait.” What had he done wrong? “I don’t want to pressure you—”

“You’re not,” she assured him, snagging her purse and levering open the door.

“I want to at least walk you into the building.” He reached out to keep her there.

She tensed at his touch.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” She fumbled for her keys.

He hopped out of the driver’s-side door and came around, but she was already at the entrance to her building.

“Chelsea, what’s wrong?” He didn’t want to hold her there, knowing she had issues with being touched.

God knows, he would never restrain her if she wanted to leave, but she was backing away from him so fast she’d never even hear him if he didn’t get closer.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, flipping her key upside down to try it in the lock the other way. “I don’t know what I’m doing and I can’t…I just can’t do this.”

For a minute he thought she meant she couldn’t open her lock. But then she had the lock open and stepped inside, holding the door half-shut to talk to him through a slit as if he was some kind of criminal.

“I’m sorry, Vinny.” Her voice cracked as she squeezed the door in a white-knuckled grip. “You deserve a nice, normal girl. And that will never be me.”

* * *

T
HE
FIRST
INSTALLMENT
of the documentary series would debut on television tonight.

Jennifer had to leave Ax’s place at dawn to put in some overtime hours editing footage from the game and the team’s plane ride home the night before. She’d see Axel at the practice rink in a couple of hours, but when she’d left his house, he’d still been sleeping. Now, arriving at her temporary office, she peered over her shoulder, certain she’d heard someone behind her. But all seemed quiet.

The morning was still cool as she shoved through the double doors to the conference room, surprised to discover no one else from the crew had reported to work yet. Maybe they’d opted to work late into the night instead.

While she poured water into the coffeemaker, hoping some caffeine would wake her up, her cell phone rang. She set down the carafe and looked at her phone, noticing her sister’s number on her caller ID.

“Hey, Julia,” she answered. “What are you doing awake at the crack of dawn?”

Her gaze went to the photo she’d brought from home, a picture of the two of them shopping for a Christmas tree on a road trip to the country last winter. They had their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, goofy knit hats dotted with snow.

“It’s a school day,” her sister groused, sounding as if she hadn’t had her morning coffee, either. Or whatever it was that fifteen-year-old girls needed in the a.m. to take the edge off. Some days Jennifer felt as if she’d been born decades older than anyone else in her family. “I have no choice.”

“Oh. Right.” Jennifer searched the drawers for a plastic spoon to measure the coffee. “How has school been?”

Julia had switched to a new school over the holidays and the transition had been bumpy. Their mother had never been very involved in either of their lives so Jennifer had made it her mission to ensure Julia could escape the drama of that awful fall semester. Jennifer had paid the tuition, arranged for transportation and bought the wardrobe, wanting to ensure Julia felt taken care of.

“I hate it. I want to go back with my friends.”

Jennifer spilled the coffee she’d been trying to measure.

“You’re kidding.” She set down the spoon and turned her back on the cabinet to focus on the conversation.

“No. That’s why I called. I asked the principal if you can get a refund on the tuition for this semester and he said no. But I’m willing to work a part-time job to pay you back.”

“I don’t want the money back.” She couldn’t believe her ears. “I want you to attend a school where you’ll be happy. Where you don’t have people whispering behind your back.”

A sound outside the conference room startled her and a shadow passed by one of the frosted-glass windows. She hoped it was someone from her camera crew.

“I’m not worried about that, Jen. I know you would have liked to attend a school like this, but it’s not for me.”

“You were miserable,” Jen reminded her sister. “Mortified.” How could Julia suggest that Jennifer had helped her transfer for selfish reasons?

“But I’m over it,” Julia huffed. “And the rest of the class probably would’ve moved on to some new drama by the time we came back from the holidays, but we—that is,
I
—freaked out and left school.”

“Julia.” Jennifer sat down at the conference-room table, determined to talk some sense into her sister. She straightened the photo of her with Julia—her sister’s freckles circled both cheeks like cinnamon on an apple. “This is your future we’re talking about. How can you earn good grades with the distraction of online gossip and negative cliques using social media to wage a smear campaign?”

“I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Not that bad? I have a film project in the works to spotlight the dangers of—”

“Stop. Stop right there.” Her sister’s voice rose on the other end of the line, squeaking in a panicky note that only a teen could manage. “I am not going to be one of your causes. You have no right to turn your camera on my life. This is private.”

“It wouldn’t be about you,” she clarified. “But I’ve heard stories about—”

“I don’t care. You can go make movies about the five million other problems in the world, but not this one. Not mine.” In the background, a horn sounded and her sister sighed. “My ride is here. I have to go. But, Jen, I am not a crisis you have to fix, okay? I love you. And if you love me, you’ll let this go.”

“But—” The call disconnected before she could argue, leaving her frustrated.

Since when had a good sisterly deed become such an annoyance? She didn’t see Julia as a cause. She’d simply felt her sister’s hurt and wanted to fix it.

“Knock, knock?” A woman’s voice at the door startled her.

Turning, she saw Chelsea Durant in the open entry to the conference room, a coffee mug in hand. That must have been who she’d seen out the window. Why was Jen so jumpy today?

“Sorry to bother you.” Chelsea lifted the ceramic mug. “I was in search of java and thought I’d see if anyone started the pot yet.”

Her eyes shifted to the spilled grounds on the counter and the open bag sagging against the empty carafe.

“I got a phone call in the middle of starting it,” Jennifer explained, rising. “But I think I’m going to add about ten more cups to my original estimate.”

“I’m having one of those days, too,” Chelsea informed her, entering the room with a surprisingly silent step. “I can make it for us.”

She reached the counter before Jennifer did, so Jen let the other woman take over. The he-man aura of the Phantoms’ conference room meant an abundance of black countertops and a coffee station with lots of real sugar and not nearly enough low-calorie substitutes. Jennifer had been having a tough time finding everything she needed anyhow, and Chelsea seemed to know her way around every part of the mammoth practice facility.

“We didn’t get much sleep last night, did we?” Jennifer observed, wishing that was the reason for her sudden exhaustion when it had more to do with Julia’s teenage psychoanalysis and the dangerous game Axel played with his old gang.

“No.” Chelsea rolled up the sleeves of her Phantoms jersey and measured more water. “But I also didn’t sleep because Vinny and I… There was a misunderstanding. I don’t think we’re going to be much of a story for your documentary.”

“You’re kidding.” Jen had thought that was a go for sure. “I have to say, I’m a pretty good judge of emotions after watching people through a camera lens for so many years.” Although possibly she wasn’t as good reading people in real life since she’d gotten her sister all wrong. “And I really thought there was something special between you two.”

“I know.” Chelsea pressed Start on the coffee machine and turned to face Jen. “I thought so, too. But I’ve got no business being with a guy like him.”

“How can you say that?” She didn’t know Chelsea well, but Axel seemed to think she was a good person who’d had a tough life. And given how much Axel knew about hardship, Jennifer trusted his assessment. “You deserve happiness as much as anyone else.”

“Maybe.” Chelsea shrugged. “But what if you can’t find a way through the obstacles to reach that happiness? What if there are so many barriers, such a huge gulf dividing your lifestyles, that you can’t even envision how to make a future together work?”

The question so perfectly crystallized Jennifer’s concerns about her relationship with Axel that she couldn’t begin to think of a reply. She couldn’t picture herself in Ax’s world, either. The glitz of fame and fortune, big houses and big car collections, were at odds with her lifestyle.

Finally, the coffeemaker beeped, reminding her she needed to get back to work on the final edit of the documentary footage before showtime tonight.

“I honestly don’t know the answer to that one,” Jennifer answered out loud before she realized Chelsea had already vanished on those silent feet of hers, leaving an empty mug behind.

12

A
XEL
’
S
GUT
KNOTTED
AS
the opening credits rolled on the documentary series
Double Overtime.
He hadn’t wanted any part of television fame and still didn’t, but with Jennifer directing and his whole team gathered at Kyle’s home to watch the first installment, Ax couldn’t very well ignore it.

“I’m nervous,” Jennifer whispered from the leather reclining chair beside him in Kyle’s posh media room.

They’d chosen seats in the back even though none of the crew would be filming the event for next week’s edition of the series. So there were no lenses to hide from for once. Still, Axel would rather have her in his lap than seated beside him with the arms of both chairs separating them.

Now even Kyle’s girlfriend stopped refilling drinks and passing popcorn bowls to take her place beside her man in the front row. Axel had to admit the matchmaker was a good influence on his brother, keeping hockey-crazy Kyle with one foot in the real world.

“Don’t be nervous,” Axel whispered back to Jennifer, lingering by her ear to breathe in the scent of her hair. “You worked really hard on this. It’s going to be good.”

Around them, the room went quiet as footage of their last home game filled the screen, the microphones capturing the curses and shouting on the ice better than regular game coverage would. Close-ups of the players interspersed with narration that must have been done by someone in New York since Axel didn’t recognize the voice.

“Vinny!” the team shouted when the player appeared on-screen in his suburban home, talking about what it was like to play for famed Phantoms coach Nico Cesare.

“Where’s Chelsea?” someone asked in the front, a question that was quickly shushed and locked down by the other guys, making Axel wonder what had happened to stop their favorite groupie from attending.

“I thought she had a role in this,” Axel spoke into Jennifer’s ear, glad for a chance to be close to her again.

“She does.” Jennifer nodded. “Maybe she’ll arrive later.”

Axel was the next up on-screen as the program cut away to a practice room with him making shot after shot into a small net.

“Ax!” the players shouted. Kyle threw some popcorn at the image.

“Good transition,” Axel told Jennifer, liking the way she’d gone from Vinny discussing how hard the team worked to the shot of Axel silently firing pucks into a net.

“Thank you.” She took his hand in the darkness, even though bigmouthed Leandre Archambault sat on the other side of her where he could have seen the gesture.

Damn, but he liked that. He admired her grit and her fire. But Jennifer had a soft side, too, a tenderness that made her a loyal protector. A champion of the underdog. It was obvious in her film topics and evident in the care she took when she showed people on-screen. She revealed something about each person’s character in the documentary.

Did she see him the way he looked in this segment, a robot worker so zeroed in on his game he didn’t look up?

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket while the program switched to an interview with Coach Cesare and his wife, Lainie.

Discreetly, Axel took out his phone and clicked open the main screen to see he had a text.

Looks like U can still fire a shot. We’ll expect U @ target practice tonight. Leave your brother’s house alone. Someone will meet you.

“What is it?” Jennifer glanced his way, perhaps feeling the tension in him where their hands joined.

Crap.

Sweat broke out on his forehead just looking at her sitting next to him. So vulnerable because of shit he’d done in the past. He turned his ringer off and rolled his shoulders to alleviate the tension. Obviously, the Destroyers were coming for him tonight. Were probably already in position around Kyle’s house. Watching.

He’d have to figure out a way to make sure Jen was somewhere safe while he took care of business.

“Nothing.” He shook his head and tried to stretch his mouth into an easy grin. “Some other players ribbing me about the show.”

Jen nodded, but he could see the doubt in her eyes. Her attention returned to the screen where the series showed a long shot of Vinny and Chelsea having a conversation in the parking lot behind the practice rink, their body language advertising interest in each other even if there was no sound for the image.

Interesting. Vinny damn well better take good care of Chels. Axel had identified with the loner look in her eyes the first time they’d met. He’d seen the same wariness in other gang members. The guys in motorcycle clubs were hard-asses, but most of them had gotten that way because they’d been through hell in some other part of their lives. Axel didn’t know exactly what had put Chelsea on the streets as a teen, but he’d bet it had been a tough road for her.

“Chelsea should be watching with us,” he observed out loud, just to make his opinion known.

“She’s volunteering at a shelter tonight,” Vinny Girard supplied from the other side of the room.

Some other guys shushed them as the scene swapped to the groupies in the car riding up to the Montreal game, the girls all talking about what it meant to be hockey fans.

“It’s like having a family,” Chelsea said on-screen, never taking her eyes from the road as she cruised up the highway toward the Canadian border.

“Yeah. A family full of kick-ass brothers,” Misty piped up from the backseat, making the girls laugh in the clip. Some of the team pumped their fists in agreement around Kyle’s media room.

Family.
Axel turned that idea over in his head while he kept his eyes on the flat screen. Misty talked about the hard-luck backgrounds the girls had come from and the dream they shared about opening a more full-service shelter in Philadelphia that catered to women and children.

But Axel was stuck on the family idea, knowing deep in his gut that he’d been looking for that when he’d joined the Destroyers way too young. That ratty stepfather who drank like a fish and took off after a few years had paid far more attention to him than his mother ever had. So as a kid, Ax was only too happy to follow the guy into a gutted shell of a building to hang out with a bunch of seedy “uncles.” Looking back, Ax understood that as a kid he’d just wanted a place to fit in. People to look out for him.

By the time he’d met Kyle Murphy, he’d been ready for a better family. A new life. But apparently he’d pissed off the old clan too much. And like any family quarrel, it had only festered over time. Tonight, he needed to end it for good.

“Get ready,” Jennifer whispered to him, calling his thoughts to the documentary series as it came back from a commercial break. “We’re up next.”

Trying to focus on the screen, Axel watched as game footage of him scoring a winning goal dissolved into a scene with him and Jennifer kissing in the conference room.

Massively kissing.

The media room erupted in wolf howls and shouts as a team full of grown men were transformed into twelve-year-olds at the sight of a lip-lock. Thankfully, the shot was short-lived and returned to an interview with their goalie talking about the way different guys tried to let off steam during the run for the playoffs.

“Was that what we were doing?” he asked Jennifer. “Letting off steam?” He’d sure as hell looked like a man who had it bad for Jen in that kissing shot.

How obvious would it be to his former gang that this woman was important to him?

“I lobbied for them to edit it out right up until the bitter end,” she confided, leaning so close her hair slid onto his shoulder. “I even caved on the film I want to make and said I didn’t care about that anymore, since you were right that my sister doesn’t want any part of it. But the producer was adamant the footage would stay in since I’d already signed the waiver.”

She’d been prepared to give up the film that she wanted to make so bad, no matter what her sister said. It touched him that she’d listened to his advice and consulted her sister about the project. It touched him even more that she’d gone to bat for him with her boss. That, more than anything, told him he needed to distance himself from Jennifer while he still had a prayer of pulling away. She was too passionately committed to the things she cared about, too apt to want to help him fight his battles. And he could not risk getting her involved in whatever happened with the Destroyers.

Even if that meant he had to hurt them both in the process. Hearts at least stood a chance of healing. But if they came after Jennifer? His chest felt as though an icy hand had reached inside him and squeezed.

“Nice guy you work for,” he muttered darkly. “But I need you to have some extra protection until this thing settles out with my old gang. They’ll know now that they could get to me through you.”

“What do you mean, ‘settles out’? Are you going to the police about the way that goon nearly made us get into an accident before we left for Montreal? Because I think that constitutes a threat.” She turned toward him in her seat, ignoring the show she’d worked so hard on to talk to him quietly in the dark media room. “I’m your witness. I saw it all.”

Damn. Already she was searching for solutions to his problem, eager to get involved. He couldn’t have that. The time had come to protect her even if it killed him.

Around them, the team cheered over a great stop by the goalie during the game against Montreal. They’d all seen it on game film, but the documentary series hyped up the play.

“Not exactly.” Axel peered around the room and saw a clear path to the door in the back. “Would you mind missing the last half of this so we could talk about it?”

His eyes roamed over her, memorizing her beautiful features now when she looked at him with so much warmth in her gaze. He didn’t want to hurt her, but it was his own damn fault for letting someone too close.

“Believe me, after all that editing, I know how it ends.” Releasing his hand, she rose and headed for the back of the room.

He followed her out, leaving his empty popcorn container on a table by the exit. He levered open the door, careful not to let too much light into the viewing room.

The sound from the documentary was still audible here, and Axel gestured for her to follow him toward a game room near the indoor hot tub. The scent of chlorine hung in the air as they passed an indoor pool and reached an oversize den with a billiard table and dartboard. A bar and a foosball game filled out the room while trophies and framed jerseys covered the walls.

“Wow.” Jennifer craned her neck to see all the game photos and magazine covers on the wall. “Kyle has quite a spread, doesn’t he?”

“You mean the trophies?” His gaze went to the floor-to-ceiling cases of awards his foster brother had snagged over the years. He was just as glad to delay their conversation since that meant he’d have a few more minutes with her.

A little time to soak in everything he’d grown to admire. Damn it, his legs felt like lead with this weight hanging over him.

“I mean the house.” Jennifer ran her hand over the Lucite bar lit from underneath. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s nice,” he agreed. “It belonged to a former football player, so it already had a lot of the extras, and Kyle has been adding bonus features since the moment we touched down in Philly. But about tonight—”

“Professional athletes have some seriously nice digs.” She moved toward the silver saddle chairs that looked like something out of a ’50s diner. “Sorry to gawk, but I’ve never hung out with hockey stars on my jobs before. I’m usually camping in some overheated trailer and feeling guilty about all my luxuries as I film the lives of—”

“Jen, this is important.” He redirected her, on edge about the meeting tonight. Could there be a worse time for this discussion? Dragging out one of the bar stools, he motioned toward it. “Have a seat.”

She bristled but did as he asked. Her red waves flounced as she dropped into the chair, her yellow skirt printed with limes and mangoes fanning out around her.

“So why don’t you want to go to the police about the threat?” she asked, crossing slender legs so that a green suede ankle boot brushed his calf.

“It wouldn’t be enough of a threat for the authorities to take seriously.” Pointing a finger at them like a gun and pulling an imaginary trigger? That’d get him laughed out of the local precinct.

“How do you know that until you file a formal complaint?”

“I was on the sketchy side of the law long enough to know how it works.”

“But that was in a foreign country. You’re on U.S. soil now.” Uncrossing her legs, she leaned forward to emphasize her point, her white T-shirt with an iconic film-reel design stretching across her breasts.

Damn but he wished he could think about that right now instead of being scared for her safety. The sooner he put some distance between them, the better. He’d been an idiot not to send her running back to New York the first day she’d shown up at the practice rink, but he’d gotten sucked in by her impulsive charm and undeniable sex appeal.

“Right. I’m in the U.S. now, where I could be deported if I’m not careful.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” She pounded a fist on the bar, clearly indignant at the thought of injustice.

In that moment, he could picture her making the documentaries she enjoyed most, her zeal for her work driving the project forward. It would be nice to be worthy of a woman like that. To be a man who didn’t have a lousy past tied around his neck like an albatross.