On the Fly (Crimson Romance) (13 page)

“Maybe you’ve forgotten why you’re here. Let me remind you. It’s to play
hockey
. It’s to reach the top of your game, not to make
stupid
mistakes.” Their faces reddened. He knew Nealy was trying to fire them up and keep them from repeating tonight’s performance, but he was one high-pitched prod away from blowing his own cool.

“Do I need to remind you how important these wins are to keeping this team alive? We can’t afford to start losing now.” They nodded, and Carter felt some of the tension slide from his shoulders. She was winding down. “Expect to work it off in practice tomorrow. Hit the showers.”

The showers, and then the heavy bag. And tomorrow, his boss’s door.

Monday, October 31st

“Where’s Carter?”

“Probably still in the showers puking his guts out after the practice I just put them through.” Usually Nealy would look happy about such a statement, but no one in that boardroom was happy.

That’s it.

“Last night was a train-wreck. The dancers didn’t help.” Jacey looked around at pair after pair of nervous eyes and lips pressed into thin lines. No one wanted to say anything, but she got the vibe.

Nealy spoke up, though she sounded resigned. “They have to stay. You saw the attendance Friday night.”

“I also saw us lose because our players were so distracted. Maybe it wasn’t the cheerleaders’ fault, but they added to the situation. Wins bring in more fans. We can’t afford another loss.”

Sympathy colored Nealy’s eyes, and she softened her tone. “We all want them to win. But even after Friday night’s loss, Wednesday’s game is already sold out.
Sold out.
We can’t ignore that. The team will get used to the new routine. And if they don’t … ” She shrugged.

Panic tightened Jacey’s chest. “Can’t we at least tone down the routines? Maybe get new costumes?”

Most of her staff averted their gazes. Tiffany cleared her throat. “It’s the routines and costumes that people want to see. That … slippage … is the real reason we’re sold out for Wednesday.”

“Are you serious? You can see more boob in the new Cirque du Soleil.”

Tiffany turned her palms up.

Leaning an elbow on the table, Jacey held her cheek in her hand and closed her eyes. “All right. They stay as they are. But I can think of at least one other person who’s going to have a problem with it.”

• • •

“Seriously? We have an Ice Crew. Why do we need dancers? And yeah, I get the irony of that question after I asked to watch tryouts.” Carter stood in her office, hands planted firmly on his hips. He kept his posture tense, and expression hard. The change in their pre-game routine was getting in his players’ heads and messing with their concentration. Being chewed out by a five-foot angry chipmunk following the loss didn’t help matters. His guys were angry, and so was he. But when he looked at her, he had to fight not to lose his steam. Jacey’s shoulders slumped, and defeat replaced the usual fire in her eyes.

She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I don’t like it any more than you do. Trust me. But there’s no way around it. The next two games are already sold out.”

“So this is about money?”

“Yes. Yes it is, Phlynn. If we can’t carry our weight, there may not
be
Sinners next year. While I’d like more than anything for us to win the Cup, I’d rather make money and drop in the standings than hemorrhage money and get a plaque for a team that won’t exist after the confetti falls. I
can’t
lose this team. You don’t know what it meant to my dad. It’s all I have left of him.” Her eyes watered and she looked away, blinking. “Except for that hideous house.” She hiccupped on a laugh and wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

He wanted to come back, argue that every team’s top goal should be to win the Cup, but seeing her cry made him waver. Normally, Jacey exuded so much confidence and professionalism that it was easy to take her situation for granted. Now, she looked so vulnerable he just wanted to hold her and make it better. Where did that come from? Part of him laughed at the patronizing thought. The other part balked.
What the hell is she doing to me?

He moved closer until he stood directly in front of her desk. He narrowed his eyes, but his voice lost its anger. “I had a good mad going. You’re ruining it.”

She glanced up at him and laughed. “Sorry.”

“I’ll see what I can do … with the guys.” Grudging, but there it was.

The surprise and gratitude on her face chipped away some more of his frustration. Tension thickened as it seemed to do every time they were within touching distance. Without honestly knowing why, he walked around the desk and brushed a curl behind her ear then slid his fingers along her jaw. So soft. She leaned into his touch, and it paralyzed him. He had expected her to pull away. That was the dance — he moved forward; she moved back. It was a good dance. He knew the steps.

What now?

Reluctantly, he let his hand drop. The silence started to turn awkward. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Uh … nothing.”

“Bunch of the guys are going out on the town all costumed up for Halloween and bringing dates. Mine cancelled this morning with the flu. Wanna go with me?”

• • •

Halloween
. It was Halloween, and she’d completely forgotten. You couldn’t forget Halloween in the Northeast. The temperature dropped with the leaves. In temperate Las Vegas, eternal summer marched on, and their neighborhood wasn’t big on decorating. “I … you had a date?” Somehow that detail trumped forgetting a national holiday. She could still feel the warmth of his hand on her face and the weight of his stare. They were in dangerous territory here, but it almost felt like a game of chicken — neither one wanted to wuss out first. Deep down, part of her didn’t want to wuss out at all. And that scared her to death.

“Nothing serious. And you don’t get to make that face. Remember who’s auctioning me off in a few weeks.”

“That’s different. It’s — never mind. I can’t go with you. We just got
out
of the papers.”

“My date was about your size, and the costume’s already paid for. You’d just have to pick it up at the shop. It’s got a wig and a mask, so you’d be totally anonymous. Clearly, you need to get out. And this is the one night of the year where costumes are publicly acceptable.”

“What are you talking about? This is Las Vegas. Five days a week, I see Spiderman on the corner of Tropicana Avenue on my way to work.”

Carter cracked a smile and sat on the edge of her desk. This close, the woodsy notes of his cologne tickled her nose and gave her goose bumps. “C’mon, boss. No one will know. Not even the guys. We can call you … Sindy. With an S.”

“Clever, but you might as well call me Stripper.”

“As long as I can call you tonight. What do you say?”

She hesitated, thinking of all the possible ways it could blow up in her face. She imagined her name on the front page of the
Las Vegas Sun
, the shocked expressions on her players’ faces if they figured out who she was, and the terror of potentially having to rein them in so they didn’t get arrested. Did she really want to spend the night babysitting her team? Did she really want to find out what would happen if she didn’t? Jacey blew out a heavy breath. “Fine.”

“You flatter me with your enthusiasm.”

She laughed, and the crinkle lines at the edges of Carter’s eyes saved her from feeling guilty. She didn’t mean to act like the idea of a night with him was comparable to filing her taxes. She had a feeling a night with Carter wouldn’t compare to anything. “So … how does this work? Would I meet you somewhere?”

“A limo’s picking us all up at our houses at eight. I’m only a street over. Think you could walk to my place a few minutes early? No one sees you coming or going. End of the night, I’ll take you home.”

Home
. The McMansion didn’t feel like home. Especially now that she and Madden were at odds. It was an enormous, empty reminder of the family she never really had. The apartment she’d shared with Alex had been home until …

“Jacey?” He set his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned down to eye level just as she tipped her head up. Nose to nose, she swallowed as Carter replaced her reverie with his hazel-gold gaze. She snapped completely from past to present, rooted by his warmth and the mint of his breath. He was here and now. Her ghosts might be too, but that wasn’t his fault. And she deserved a good time, damn it.

“About this costume … ” She narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

His grin made her stomach flip. “You’ll see. Oh, and you’ll need some devil horns from the team shop.”

Monday, October 31st: Halloween Night

“I’ll kill him.”

Looking in her bedroom’s full-length mirror, Jacey adjusted the wig that came to her chin in a sheet of black silk. A shimmering, emerald eye mask changed her features completely. The flame-shaped hem of her sequined black dress kept inching up past mid thigh, and she kept tugging it down. At least she wasn’t showing too much skin because the black leather boots came up over her knees. A devil tail that matched her mask swung from her backside, and green, L.E.D. horns purchased from the Sinners’ team shop lit up atop the wig. To complete the look, she carried a black-and-green pitchfork. “Just call me Sindy.”

Madden was out when she got home from her after-work costume pick-up — not gambling, he promised — and for once, she felt grateful. She also felt ridiculous. The only reason she hadn’t laughed in Halloween Howie’s face and turned heel when he showed her the costume was that Carter had already paid for it. Ohhh, was he ever going to pay for it.

The thick, lug soles of her boots thumped and echoed as she hopped down the sweeping staircase, and the dark house felt horror-movie scary. Jacey shivered and slung her small handbag across her body so it bounced at her hip as she went out and locked up. The fresh, sweet air had toned down from afternoon blaze to evening simmer. Trick-or-treating had ended an hour ago, so she didn’t have to worry about being seen. It was full dark, but lampposts illuminated the neighborhood pathways, and she found her way to Carter’s street, no problem.

By most standards, Casa de Phlynn was huge. Compared to Vaughn Manor, it was a New York City apartment. Like every other house on the block, it showed Spanish influence combined with clean, modern lines. Two floors, stucco façade, terracotta tiled roof. Smoking hot hockey captain on the front steps.

Carter wore black dress pants, a black button down shirt, and a green satin bow tie the same color as her mask and tail. Horns identical to hers glowed atop his gelled blond spikes, and black face paint darkened his eyes. A cape billowed from his wide shoulders in the night breeze. He stared at her hard for a good five seconds, tilting his head.

“Jacey?”

• • •

The woman shifted before him and leaned her pitchfork in the crook of her arm to tug down the daring hemline. For a horrifying second, he thought maybe Giselle felt better and had picked up the costume. His boss could
not
look like that. But Giselle wouldn’t have walked. Or pulled the dress
down
. Carter’s heart stopped dead in his chest, and all available blood rushed south.

Damn.

“I feel stupid, and it’s your fault. It’s too trampy, right? I should have — ”

He took two smooth steps, wrapped his hands around her waist, and covered her mouth with his own. She gasped and straightened, and he heard her pitchfork clatter to the ground. But then she leaned into him, and when she returned the kiss, his body ignited. He slid his hands over her back then down to her hips, pulling them tighter to his. Her arms went around his neck, and he was two seconds from picking her up and taking her inside when a car horn beeped, and rude jeers broke the moment.

Before he pulled away, Carter brushed his lips along the shell of her ear and whispered, “It’s perfect.”

He picked up the fallen pitchfork then held out his arm. She seemed too dazed to refuse it, and he smiled to himself when she leaned into him for balance. She wasn’t the only one having trouble walking. His own stiff gait attested to the power of that dress. Or more accurately, the woman wearing it. He helped Jacey into the limo then tried to think of cold arenas and killer practices as he slid in beside her. He needed to cool down. At least until he got her alone.

A greeting of, “Heeeey!” chorused as he closed the door. Reese, Cole, and Collier lounged in the facing aisle seats with their dates dressed in costumes similar to his and Jacey’s.

“You must be Giselle. Glad to see you’re feeling better. Phlynn said you were sick.” Collier nodded to Jacey, and his date mimicked the gesture.

Carter froze. Jacey opened her mouth, but nothing came out, so he stepped in. “Uh, yeah. She’s feeling okay now, but she lost her voice.”

The flash of irritation in her eyes said that voice was about to make a triumphant return. He slid his hand into hers, gave it a gentle squeeze, then pressed a kiss to the side of her head and whispered, “Trust me.”

She stiffened for a second then took his face in her hands and kissed him with a passion hot enough to melt steel.

• • •

“Giselle?”

“What?” Carter feigned innocence, swallowed some beer, and kicked his foot back and forth in the water. His pants were rolled to the knee, his shoes and socks cast to the wayside. They sat on a plush, circular island in the middle of Surrender’s pool. The super chic club boasted seamless indoor and outdoor partying with all the glitz and glam that were Vegas standards, though Halloween meant strands of purple and orange lights everywhere and hologram ghosts in random corners. Otherwise, Surrender looked like most other clubs/resorts in the city save for a massive, solid silver anaconda hanging over the indoor bar. After they’d gotten drinks and propositions from R-rated fairytale characters, their companions hit the dance floor. Carter had guided her out here.

Jacey sat with her feet in the pool as well. The cool water felt good after those air-proof boots. She splashed her date. “Let me guess. Giselle’s a super model in town for a shoot and some overtime with a certain hockey captain.”