See Jane Score (13 page)

“Jane,” Larry Nystrom called to her. She pulled her attention from Luc and looked at the coach. He motioned her forward, and she moved to stand beside him. “Go ahead and say what you said to the guys the other day.”

She swallowed. “I can't remember what I said, Coach.”

“Something about us keeping our pants up,” Fish provided. “And traveling with us being an experience.”

They all looked so serious she almost laughed. Until now, she'd never really believed they were this superstitious. “Okay,” she began to the best of her recollection, “keep your pants up, gentlemen, I have something to say and it will just take a minute. I won't be traveling with you any longer, and I wanted you to know that traveling with you all has been an experience I won't forget.” They all smiled and nodded except Peter Peluso.

“You said something about synchronized jock-dropping. I remember that part.”

“That's right, Sharky,” Rob Sutter agreed. “I remember that too.”

“And you said you hoped this was our year to win the Cup,” Jack Lynch added.

“Yeah, that's important.”

Did it really matter? Sheesh! “Do I have to start from the beginning?”

They all nodded and she rolled her eyes. “Keep your pants up, gentlemen, I have something to say and it will just take a minute and I don't want any of that synchronized pants-dropping crap.” Or something like that. “I won't be traveling with you any longer and I wanted you to know that traveling with you guys has been an experience I won't forget. I hope this is your year to win the Stanley Cup.”

They all looked pleased and she started to leave before they made her crazy.

“Now you have to come and shake my hand,” the captain, Mark Bressler, informed her.

“Oh, that's right.” She walked up to him and took his hand. “Good luck with the game, Mark.”

“No, you said Hitman.”

This was just weird. “Good luck with the game, Hitman.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Jane.”

“You're welcome.” From outside, she could hear the pregame entertainment begin, and she once again headed for the door.

“You're not finished, Jane.”

She turned and looked across the room at Luc. He stood and crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”

No way. No way was she going to call him a dodo in front of the guys.

“Come on.”

She looked around at the faces of the other players. If Luc played badly, they'd blame her. As if her shoes were lead, she walked across the dense carpet with the Chinooks logo in the center. “What?” she asked as she came to stand in front of Luc. In his skates, he was taller than usual, and she had to look way up.

“You have to say what you said to me the other day. For luck.”

That's what she'd suspected, but she tried to get out of it. “You're so good, you don't need luck.”

He grasped her arm and gently pulled her closer. “Come on, now.”

His heated palm warmed her through her sweater. “Don't make me, Luc,” she said just loud enough for him to hear. She could feel her face catch on fire. “It's too embarrassing.”

“Whisper it in my ear.”

The creaking of leather pads filled the vanishing space between them as he bent over her. The scent of his shampoo and shaving cream filled her nose combined with the leather of his pads. “You dumb dodo,” she whispered beside his ear.

“That's not right.” He shook his head and his cheeks touched hers for the briefest of seconds. “You forgot
big
.”

Oh, Lord. Before this was over, she was either going to die of shame or pass out or combust from pent-up lust. She really didn't want to do any of the three. Especially the last one, but his testosterone level was like a heavy force field pulling her in against her will. She closed her eyes and locked her knees so she wouldn't lean into him. “You big dumb dodo.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I appreciate it.”

Sweetheart.
She opened her eyes. He turned his face, and with his lips inches from hers, he smiled. “Am I going to have to do this before every game?” she managed, though her voice sounded more breathy than she would have liked.

He didn't seem to notice her voice. He straightened and tiny creases appeared in the corners of his eyes. “'Fraid so.”

Finally, she felt as if she could breathe again. “I'm asking for a raise.”

He slid his big warm hand up her arm to her shoulder. He gave her cheek a light pat, then dropped his hand to his side. “Ask for a bigger expense account too. The next time we're on the road, I'm going to win back that fifty I lost at darts.”

Jane shook her head and turned to go. “Not going to happen, Luc,” she said over her shoulder.

She made her way back up to the media booth and again sat beside Darby. King-5 was there as well as ESPN, broadcasting the Chinooks' battle with Vancouver. With Luc Martineau securely back in his zone, Seattle came out on top in the three–one scrum. Seemingly without effort, he snagged the puck from the air and reminded everyone who watched exactly why he was considered a premier goalie.

In the locker room after the game, the team answered Jane's questions. Although they didn't keep their pants up, their disrobing seemed less calculated.

That night, once Jane sent her column off to the paper, she phoned Caroline and made her friend's day, week, and year with four simple words. “I need a makeover,” she said as soon as Caroline picked up.

“Who is this?”

“Very funny. I have a fancy banquet to go to next week and I need to look good.”

“Thank you, Jesus, for this gift I am about to receive,” Caroline whispered. “I've waited for this for years. The first thing we need to do is make an appointment with Vonda.”

“Who's Vonda?”

“The woman who's going to wax you all over and shape that wild hair.”

Jane looked at the receiver in her hand. “Wax?”

“And hair.”

“The last time I let you do my hair, I ended up looking like Buckwheat.”

“That was tenth grade, and
I
won't be doing it. After the hair, we'll hook you up with Sara at the MAC counter where I work. The woman is a true artist.”

“I was thinking just a little mascara and some lip gloss. A nice black cocktail dress and some cheap pumps.”

“And we got in some fabulous Ferragamos today,” Caroline rattled on as if Jane hadn't spoken. “In red. They'll look prefect with a killer little Betsey Johnson I saw upstairs.”

Chapter 8
Boomer: A Hard Shot

L
uc pulled the cuffs at his wrists, then slipped onyx studs through each. That morning at practice, he'd heard Jane would be at tonight's banquet with Darby. He was curious to see what she'd show up wearing—something black, no doubt. He raised his hands and popped the last stud in the banded collar of his starched white shirt. He hadn't spoken with her since the game against Vancouver.

The second-string goalie had played the last two games, giving Luc a much-needed break, and he hadn't had the chance to talk to her. Not that he had anything that he wanted to say. But he liked to talk to her, and he liked to provoke her a bit to see her reaction. To see if she'd laugh or if her gaze would narrow and her lips get all pinched. Or if he could bring a blush to her pale cheeks.

He buttoned his charcoal suspenders to the waistband of his pleated trousers and wondered if Jane and Darby were dating now. He didn't think they were. At least he didn't
like
to think they were. Jane was fiery and had a smart mouth, and a geeky pencil pusher was all wrong for her. Especially
that
pencil pusher. It was no secret that Darby had been against Luc's trade to the Chinooks and that the two men tolerated each other because they had to. As far as Luc was concerned, Darby Hogue was nutless, while Jane had guts. He guessed that's what he liked about her. She didn't run from adversity. She faced it head-on. All five feet of her.

Luc grabbed his black bow tie and moved to his closet's mirrored doors. He laid it flat against his collar and threaded one end beneath the other. Dissatisfied with the lengths on each side, he pulled it off and started over. It took him three tries before he'd tied it perfectly around his neck. He usually didn't mind throwing on his tux and attending banquets—especially banquets honoring fellow goalies—but there was nothing usual about tonight. Tonight his little sister was going to a high school dance with a guy who had his nose pierced.

Luc grabbed his watch from his bedside table and slipped it on his wrist as he made his way to Marie's room. He wasn't about to leave until her date appeared for her. He knew what went on in the minds of teen boys, and he planned to look this Zack over and let the kid know that he'd be home when Marie returned, waiting up for her. He had to be here to shake Zack's hand a little too hard, give him the don't-mess-with-my-sister stare, and put some fear into him. Luc might not be a great brother—in fact, he wasn't anywhere near great—but he would protect Marie as long as she was with him.

He'd decided to put off any discussion of boarding school until sometime after the dance. She'd had so much fun picking out her dress and shoes, it just hadn't seemed like the right time to talk about it.

Luc knocked on Marie's door, and when she mumbled a reply he entered the room. He expected to see her in the black velvet dress with the square neck, puffy sleeves, and little pink roses sewn on it. She'd shown him the dress the other day, and he'd thought it real sweet for a girl her age. Instead of being dressed, though, she lay on top of her bed wearing her pajamas. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she'd been crying.

“Why aren't you getting ready? Your date's going to be here in a few minutes.”

“No, he's not. He called and canceled last night.”

“Is he sick?”

“He said he forgot that he has to do something with his family and can't take me. But that's a lie. He has a girlfriend now and he's taking her.”

Something white and hot flashed behind his eyes. Something that clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into fists. No one stood up his sister and made her cry. “He can't do that.” Luc moved farther into the room and looked down at Marie. “Where does he live? I'll go talk to him. I'll make him take you.”

“No,” she gasped, mortified, and sat up on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide as she gazed up at Luc. “That's so embarrassing!”

“Okay, I won't make him take you.” She was right. Being forced would embarrass her. “I'll just go over there and kick his ass.”

Her dark brow rose almost to her hairline. “He's a minor.”

“Good point. Well, I'll kick his dad's ass. Anyone who raises his son to stand a girl up deserves to get his ass kicked just on principle.” Luc was serious, but for some reason, that got a smile out of Marie.

“You'd kick Mr. Anderson's ass for me?”

“I meant butt. Not ass. And of course I would.” He sat next to his sister. “And if I couldn't get the job done, I know a few hockey players who would feed him his lunch.”

“That's true.”

He took her hand and studied her stubby fingernails. “Why didn't you tell me he'd called and canceled?”

She looked away. “I didn't think you'd really care.”

With his free hand, he brought her gaze back to his. “How can you say that? Of course I care. You're my sister.”

She shrugged. “I just didn't think you cared about stuff like dances.”

“Well, you might be right. I don't care that much about dances and dancing. I never went to any dances at my school because . . .” He paused and hit her arm with his elbow. “I can't dance worth a damn. But I care about you.”

One corner of her mouth turned down as if she didn't believe him.

“You're my sister,” he said again, as if there were nothing else to explain. “I told you I'd always take care of you.”

“I know.” She looked at her lap. “But
taking care of
and
caring about
aren't the same thing.”

“They are to me, Marie. I don't take care of people I don't care about.”

She pulled her hand from his and stood. She moved across the room to a dresser with a pile of bracelets, stuffed bears, and four dried roses on top. Luc knew the white roses had come from her mother's casket. He didn't know why she'd taken them or why she kept them now, especially when they made her cry.

“I know you want to send me away,” she said with her back to him.

Oh, boy. He didn't know how she'd found out, but he supposed that wasn't important. “I've been thinking that you might be happier living with girls your own age instead of me.”

“Don't lie, Luc. You want to get rid of me.”

Did he? Was getting rid of her so he could go back to his life his major motivation for looking at boarding schools? Maybe a little more than he'd like to admit to himself. Guilt he could no longer ignore squeezed the back of his neck as he stood and walked toward his sister. “I won't lie to you.” He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “The truth is, I don't know what to do with you. I don't know anything about teenage girls, but I know you're unhappy. I want to make it better for you, but I don't know how.”

“I'm unhappy because my mom died,” she said in a small voice. “And nobody and nothing can make that better.”

“I know.”

“And no one wants me.”

“Hey.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I want you and you know Aunt Jenny wants you.” Actually, Jenny only wanted Marie to “visit summers,” but Marie didn't need to know that. “In fact, she threatened to take me to family court to demand custody. I think she had visions of the two of you wearing matching housecoats.”

Marie's nose wrinkled. “How come I never heard of that?”

“At the time, you had enough worries,” he evaded. “I have more money than Aunt Jenny if it came to a court battle, so she backed down.”

Marie frowned. “Jenny lives in a retirement village.”

“Yeah, but look on the bright side. She'd make you her special prune pudding every night.”

“Blech!”

Luc smiled and pulled back the cuff of his shirt to look at his watch. The banquet was just about to start. “I've got to get going,” he said, but couldn't quite bring himself to actually leave her alone. “Why don't you put on your new dress and come with me?”

“Where?”

“To a banquet at the Space Needle.”

“With old people?”

“Not that old. It'll be fun.”

“Don't you have to go right now?”

“I'll wait for you.”

She shrugged. “Oh, I don't know.”

“Come on. The press will be there, and maybe you'll get your picture in the paper looking so good, old Zack will kick his
own
ass.”

She laughed. “You mean butt.”

“Right. Butt.” He pushed her toward her closet. “Get your
butt
in gear,” he said as he left the room and shut the door behind him. He grabbed his tuxedo jacket and moved into the living room to wait. He shrugged into the four-button jacket and hoped Marie shook her tailfeathers, but, typical of all females he'd ever known, she took her time getting ready.

He stood in front of the eight-foot windows and looked out at the city. The rain had stopped, but drops still clung to the glass and smeared the glittering image of Seattle at night, of the towering high-rise buildings and Elliott Bay beyond. He'd purchased this apartment for the view alone, and if he walked through either the kitchen or his bedroom doors on the other side of the apartment, he'd be on the balcony, which had a perfect view of the Space Needle and north Seattle.

Looking out the numerous windows was spectacular, but Luc had to admit that the condo had never really come to feel like home to him. Perhaps because of the modern architecture, or maybe because he'd never lived on top of a city before and it felt a bit like living in a hotel. If he opened the windows or stood out on the balcony, the sounds of cars and buses floated up to the nineteenth floor and reminded him of a hotel too. Even though he was beginning to like Seattle and everything it had to offer, sometimes he had a vague antsy feeling to go home.

When Marie finally emerged from her bedroom, she wore a little rhinestone necklace and a matching headband holding the curls back from her face. Her hair was cute, but the dress—the dress looked awful on her. About two sizes too small. The black velvet fit too tight across her breasts and behind and the small sleeves cut into her arms. Even though Marie usually wore big T-shirts and sweatshirts, he knew she wasn't fat. But that dress made her look like a chunkster.

“How do I look?” she asked as she turned in a circle for him.

The seam running up the back of the dress pulled to the left across her behind. “You look beautiful.” And above the shoulders, she did look good. Her silver eye shadow was a little strange, though, sparkly like the kind of glitter he'd used in grade school.

“What size is that dress?” Luc asked, and by the look she gave him he immediately realized his mistake. He knew better than to ask a woman her dress size. But Marie wasn't a woman. She was a girl and she was his sister.

“Why?”

He helped her on with her wool peacoat. “You always wear big shirts and pants, and I don't know what size you wear,” he improvised.

“Oh, it's a zero. Can you believe I fit into a size zero?”

“No. A zero isn't even a size. And if you are a zero, you should fatten up, maybe eat some mashed potatoes and gravy. Chase it down with some whipped cream.” She laughed, but he wasn't joking.

They left for the short drive to the Space Needle, and by the time he turned the keys of his Land Cruiser over to the valet, they were more than an hour late. The SkyLine level of the needle was perched at the one-hundred-foot mark within the structure. The SkyLine had a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree panoramic view of the city, and Luc and Marie arrived just in time for the serious partying. Stepping off the elevator, they hit a wall of noise, the combination of hundreds of voices, the clatter of dishes being cleared, and the three-piece band tuning their instruments. A sea of black tuxedos and bright dresses mixed and mingled within the dimly lit room. Luc had been here before. Not this location, not this occasion, but at a hundred or so other banquets he'd attended since signing to play in the NHL.

As Luc checked Marie's coat, he spotted Sutter, Fish, and Grizzell and introduced Marie to his teammates. They asked her about school, and the more they spoke to her, the more she slid behind Luc, until only about half of her showed. He didn't know if she was intimidated or shy.