Love and Other Games (12 page)

By the time she made it to the end, her eyes were heavy, and she couldn't be sure if the pictures were blurry or if it was just her eyes unable to focus. Then she saw something that snapped her out of her stupor. They were pictures of Cole—naked pictures. There was one of him in an ice rink, completely naked, a hockey stick positioned at just the right angle so that nothing was showing, and a silly grin on his face. Brenna's jaw hung open. There was another one of him lying on his side on the ice, head propped in one hand and the other holding a hockey puck over his manhood.

She tilted her head and leaned closer to the screen. Yup, there was definitely some goods shown in that one. Her first thought was: he must be freezing lying on the ice like that. And her second thought: holy hell, her imagination did not do that man's body any justice. He was built, and the longer she stared at him, at his muscular chest and hard abs, the more aroused she became. Brenna continued to click through the pictures. The last two were of Cole wearing his hockey jersey. In one he was in the classic Marilyn Monroe pose. And in the other he had his back to the camera, looking over his shoulder with his ass pushed out slightly.

Brenna couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up from her gut. Hot body and great ass aside, Cole was a real piece of work. He stole her camera, took pictures of himself … her laugh faded as the realization set in. No, there was no way he took these pictures by himself. It was impossible, especially with this camera. It had to be held with two hands. Which only meant one thing: somebody else took them. She laughed harder. Who in their right mind would do this for him?

Sure, she found the pictures amusing, and more than a little enticing, but damn it! He'd stolen her camera. What if he had damaged it beyond repair? Well, Cole was right about one thing. They weren't close to being even. A smile tugged at her lips as she logged into her Instagram account.

Cole knocked on the door and waited impatiently for Brenna to answer. Finally, the door swung open. "Well, I'll be damned," he said with a smile. "The ice queen does have a sense of humor."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"This." He held out his cell phone for her to see. Cole crossed his arms over his chest and leaned up against the door frame, watching as Brenna studied the pictures. "I clearly underestimated you."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," she said.

Her head was down, gaze focused on his phone, but he noticed her fighting to bite back a smile. Cole took the time to admire her. She was dressed in a pair of jeans, brown boots that came up to her knees, and an oversized sweater with an equally large belt around her waist. A touch of makeup graced her beautiful face, and the sides of her hair were pulled up with a barrette. Wow. She looked fantastic. "Well, I'll be sure not to do that again."

"While you're at it, try not to steal my camera again."

Cole laughed. "It was just harmless fun. Don't you know that's how we flirt in the south?"

"And don't you know this," Brenna handed him back the phone, "is how we flirt in Hollywood? I'd say we're even now."

"Those pictures were meant for your eyes only, which means you owe me something again." His gaze lowered to her lips, and the passion he'd felt from her kiss last night ignited a deep desire within him.

"Sorry." She shrugged. "I don't recall seeing any warning attached to them." Brenna met his gaze for the first time since he arrived, and the look in her hazel eyes stole his breath.

God, he wanted to kiss her again. It was a want unlike anything he'd ever felt before. And he wasn't sure he liked it. He pushed off the wall and stood straight.

"If it makes you feel any better, your pictures have gotten just as many views as Ty Madsen. And I hear he's pretty popu … " She trailed off, a strange look on her face, as if she were coming to some sort of unexpected realization.

Cole frowned. Being compared to Ty annoyed him, but what bothered him more was that Brenna had the wherewithal to actually take the time to look at Ty's pictures. Cole had seen them, too. "Yeah, thanks," he said dryly.

"You got more views than Ty," she repeated.

"Yeah, you said that already." He watched curiously as her eyes widened and her jaw hung slack. "Brenna?"

"Omigod!" she gasped, cupping her hand over her mouth, and shaking her head. "No … that wasn't … Oh, God, Cole. I’m sorry. I thought I'd posted those pictures privately. I didn't realize they were public. I didn't mean … "

He laughed. She looked mortified. He laughed harder. It didn't bother him one bit that those pictures were public, not really, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He could have some real fun with this—and with her. 

Brenna scowled and grabbed a black bag from the desk, putting the strap over her shoulder. "Are you about finished? I have a job to do."

Last night she'd kissed him—really kissed him—with a desire that rivaled his own. And now she was back to being an ice queen. He just couldn't win with her. "Yeah, I'm finished." Cole moved out of her way so that she could step into the hallway. "For now," he added before walking away.

He wanted to scream in frustration. What was it going to take to break through that wall she has up around her? He'd thought he'd gotten through to her last night—apparently not. Well, Cole Campbell was not a man to walk away from a challenge.

***

Brenna stood just outside the ice rink and watched as the team warmed up for practice. Damn, it was cold in here. She'd thought that she'd dressed warm enough, but now she was considering putting her coat on. That would make it difficult to move around with her camera though, so she sucked it up and dealt with it.

She caught sight of Cole, and her body temperature spiked. Her face flushed with warmth. She'd almost given in to him this morning when he said she owed him again. If he had pushed the issue, she knew she would've opened her lips and invited him in. She had to get her mind off Cole, and the only way she knew how to do that was to drown herself in work.

Taking her camera from her bag, she brought it up to her face, and looked through the view finder. She scanned the rink looking for a good shot. Cole skated down the ice, skillfully keeping the puck under control and away from his teammates. Brenna knew nothing about this sport, but she was enjoying watching him. He was surprisingly graceful for being so big. They all were. And the control they exhibited was amazing. It definitely took talent—and a whole lot of practice—to do what they did as well as they did it.

Cole came further down the rink, skating as if he were a speed skater and not a hockey player. Brenna adjusted her hold on the camera, preparing to get a picture of him when he swung to take a shot. Cole didn't slow down as he brought his stick back and took aim. Brenna snapped the picture and the flash went off. What happened next happened so fast she couldn't fully process it.

"Son of a bitch!" the coach shouted as he stormed onto the ice.

"Dude! Are you okay?" Jason asked, leaving his spot in front of the goal and skating toward Cole, who was flat on his back on the ice.

Brenna blinked several times in disbelief. The flash had gone off on her camera. It wasn't supposed to go off. Fear, panic, and embarrassment colored her face. She quickly checked her camera. Sure enough, the settings were all messed up. The flash had been turned on. Slowly, she looked to the ice.
Oh my, God! What did I just do?
I'm so fucking stupid!
Photography 101: always check the settings before taking a picture. She'd made a stupid, careless, rookie mistake—and from the look on Cole's face, it was a costly mistake.

"Get a doctor in here. Now!" screamed the coach, shoving the team out of the way. "And get that goddamned photographer out of here before she ruins my whole team."

Tears coursed down her cheeks as she rushed out of the ice rink. She didn't stop until she got to her room. Brenna plopped down on the bed and buried her face in her pillow. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Forget that she was going to get fired. Forget that she single handedly destroyed Frank's business. Forget how embarrassed she was and how awful she felt. Her careless mistake had hurt Cole, possibly ruined his chances to play in the biggest game of his life.

She had to go see him. She had to make sure he was okay. Brenna got up, washed her face, and reapplied her makeup in an attempt to hide the fact that she'd been crying. It wasn't very successful. Oh well, she didn't have time to worry about how she looked. Brenna quickly found the medical building and located Cole. She peeked into his room to find him sitting on a bed, foot propped up on a pillow, and an ice bag taped to his ankle.

"Hey," she said, walking into the room. "How bad is it?" She nodded at his foot.

He shrugged. "It's not broken."

"That's good." She sighed with relief. "Look, I'm not exactly sure what happened back there, but—"

"You blinded me with that damn flash."

"I am so sorry, Cole. I—"

"You and that stupid camera should come with a warning," he snapped.

"Maybe if you hadn't stolen my camera … " She started, and then stopped just as quickly. Yeah he'd taken her camera without her knowledge or permission, but he hadn't really stolen it. He had returned it.

Cole adjusted his position on the bed and glared at her. "Were you seriously born without a sense of humor, a sense of fun? Or do you just enjoy being fucking miserable all the time?"

Brenna squeezed her hands into fists, her fingernails biting into her palms. He was just like every other athlete she'd ever had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. "I said I was sorry." Her jaw was clenched tight, and her anger was simmering to a boiling point.

"Whatever," he mumbled, turning his face away from her.

"Unbelievable!" She threw her hands up in the air. "And to think I was worried about you. God, I'm such an idiot." Brenna turned and walked out of the room, but stopped in the hallway when she heard Cole's voice.

"Brenna!" There was a rustle in the room, and then Cole's voice again. "Ouch. Son of a bitch. Damn it, Brenna! Come back here," he shouted.

She considered it for a brief moment, but thought better of it. If she went back in there, she was sure to say something mean to him, and that would only make things worse. It was best if she just left. So she did.

***

Outside, Brenna heard a loud commotion. She went to the window and watched a large crowd of people make their way through the Olympic village. The shine of medals hanging around some of their necks reflected off the snow. She smiled at their victory, wondering if Cole and his team would get to celebrate like that.
Not if I'm around
, she thought bitterly as she turned away from the window. The sound of her cell phone ringing snapped her out of her pity party.

It was Frank. She cringed as she answered. "Hello?"

"What the fuck are you doing, Brenna? Are you trying to destroy this company?" he shouted.

Frank never was one to beat around the bush. "No." She sighed. "Look, I can explain. I—"

"You'd better damn well explain! I just got an earful from the team manager about nude photos of Colton on the internet and something about blinding him during practice with a camera flash. Christ, Brenna, he's the best player on the team. You might as well steal the gold and piss on it."

Brenna put her hand over her stomach, which was in knots. She'd seen Frank's temper before, but she'd never experienced it firsthand. "He stole my camera, Frank. Cole stole my camera and took those pictures on his own. He must've—"

"I don't give a shit if he tea bagged the lens and got ball sweat all over it. He's the client! He can do whatever the hell he wants!"

He was shouting so loud, she held the phone away from her ear and was still able to hear him clearly. "For the record, yes he was nude, but there was nothing inappropriate showing. I made sure of that before I posted them, and I never meant to make them public. I don't know how that happened."

"That's no excuse," he continued. "You're a goddamned professional, Brenna."

"I know," she snapped, pacing the room. "But, damn it, Frank, I didn't want this job in the first place. I begged you to send someone else."

"So, what, you're going to sabotage the whole company?"

She went to the window again and rested her head on the glass, hoping the coolness of it would calm her a little. "No, of course not." Her voice was full of defeat. "In my defense, though, that man hasn't stopped hitting on me since I met him. I'm fed up. And what happened today at the rink, that was a mistake." She momentarily closed her eyes. "I should've checked my equipment before I started shooting."

"Make it right."

"What?" She felt her own temper getting the better of her. After everything she just told him, that's the response she got? Unbelievable! Frank had always had her back, always respected and supported her.

"You heard me. I don't care if you have to clean his hockey puck with your toothbrush and spit shine his hockey stick. Make this right, Brenna, or you won't have a job to come back to. None of us will." Then he hung up.

Brenna threw her phone onto the bed with a frustrated scream. God, she hated the fucking Olympics! She hated Cole and Switzerland and the snow and her job and her boss. She just hated everything. Fuming, she began to pace again. Who cares if she didn't have a job to go back to? She'd been planning for years to open her own studio. Now was her chance to do it.

Her phone rang again. "What now?" she answered.

"Good job on the welcome party pics. They're fantastic," Frank said.

"Thanks." Brenna plopped down on the bed and chewed nervously on her pinky nail.

A moment of silence ensued before Frank said, "You're the best photographer I have, Brenna. Don't let me down, kiddo."

Brenna hung her head and shook it slowly. Frank hadn't called her kiddo in years. The endearment brought back memories of the day her mother died, of how he'd been the only one to comfort her. He was more of a father to her that day than her real father had been. She sighed. "I won't, Frank, I promise. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."