See Jane Score (21 page)

He turned her onto her back, and she looked up into his face. “You do?”

“Uh-huh. I figure I'm going to want to do that a couple more times before I let you out the front door.”

“A couple more?”

“Yeah.” He pulled her tight against his body, and she felt him rock-hard again. “Is that a problem?”

“No.”

“Good, because I'm planning on scoring a hat trick.”

Chapter 14
Sin Bin: Penalty Box

J
ane wished she'd brought Caroline with her to the hockey game the next night. She needed something to keep her from thinking too much—from overanalyzing what she'd done the night before. But really, she'd analyzed her actions to death already. She'd had sex with Luc Martineau three times. Three mind-blowing, earth-shattering, set-your-hair-on-fire times. And each time, with each touch, each word uttered from his mouth, she'd fallen more in love with him, until she didn't think her heart would ever recover.

Around two
A.M
.
, he'd fallen asleep in a tangle of sheets and moonlight spilling in through the windows. One second he'd been talking about growing up in Edmonton, then he'd gone out as if someone had flipped a switch. She'd never seen anyone fall asleep that fast, and she watched him for a few moments to make sure he was okay. She pushed a lock of hair from his forehead, and she touched his cheek and the rough stubble on his jaw. Then she gathered her clothes and left without waking him.

She'd never fallen so fast and so hard for a man, and she'd left without waking him mostly because she hadn't known what to say.
Thanks? Let's get together again sometime? See ya at the game tomorrow night?
She'd left because that was the rule with a one-nighter. Someone always left before dawn.

She'd also left without her panties. She hadn't been able to find them in his dark bedroom, and she hadn't wanted to wake him by turning on the light. She'd left them there and now her biggest fear was that his cleaning lady, or worse, Marie, would find them.

No, that was wrong. Her biggest fear wasn't the discovery of her missing panties. It was seeing Luc tonight and feeling the horrible push and pull of her heart. In the past, she'd had boyfriends and one-night stands. She'd been hurt, and she'd hurt others too. But nothing compared to how Luc would hurt her. She knew it. She knew it was coming, and yet she couldn't seem to stop it.

It was all so horrible and wonderful, and in the middle of all the confusion was guilt. He'd confirmed for her last night what she'd pretty much known. She could no longer tell herself that he'd find the Honey Pie article flattering. That he wouldn't mind. He would, and there was nothing she could do about it now. There was no way to make it up to him, and knowing that he would never find out she was behind it did nothing to help with the guilt churning in the pit of her stomach.

She loved him and she didn't even bother lying and telling herself that she hadn't dressed for him. She wore red lipstick and a red silk blouse beneath her black blazer and wool pants. She felt silly, running out and buying a blouse because he said he liked her in red. Like that would make him love her.

A half hour before the game, she headed to the locker room. “Keep your pants up, gentlemen,” she began as she entered. While she recited her good-luck ritual, she could feel Luc's gaze on her, hot and vibrant, and she absolutely refused to look at him. Not after last night. Not after the things they'd done together in his bedroom. When she was through, she tucked her chin and headed for the door.

“You forgot something,” Luc called out to her.

No. She hadn't forgotten. She kept her gaze on the toes of her boots as she turned and walked back across the room. When she stood before him, she finally raised her gaze from his skates, up his bulky pads, past the fish on his jersey to the mouth that had kissed her passionately the night before. All over her body. “I thought you weren't playing tonight.”

“I'm not, but if the goalie gets pulled, I'll have to go in for him.”

“Oh, all right,” she sighed. By sheer force of will, she kept her cheeks from turning red and finally looked up into his amused blue eyes. “You big dumb dodo.”

“Thanks,” he said through a wicked grin, “but that wasn't what I was talking about when I said you forgot something.”

She'd given her pants-dropping speech, shaken the captain's hand, and called Luc a dodo. She hadn't forgotten anything. “What are you talking about?”

He leaned forward and said just above a whisper, “You forgot your panties in my bed last night.”

Everything within her stopped and she couldn't remember how to breathe. She looked around to see if anyone had heard him, but they all seemed busy elsewhere.

“I found them under my pillow this morning and I wondered if you put them there on purpose. Maybe a good-morning present.”

Her face and neck were on fire and her throat closed. All she could manage was a squeaky, “No.”

“Why didn't you wake me up before you left?”

She clenched her hand and cleared her throat. “You were asleep.”

“I was resting up for round two. God, you were hot last night.” He looked closer at her and his brows lowered. “Are you embarrassed?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Yes!”

“Why? No one can hear me.”

“Oh, my God,” she whispered and walked away before her hair caught fire. When she returned to the press box, Darby was there. And he'd brought Caroline.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted as she sat down. “If I'd known you wanted to come to another game, Caroline, I would have invited you to come with me.”

“It's okay. I'm really not much of a fan, but Darby called and I wasn't doing anything else.” She shrugged. “I tried to call you last night. Where were you?”

“Nowhere. I unplugged my phone.”

“I hate when you do that.” Caroline studied her a moment, then leaned closer. “You're lying.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are. I've known you all your life. I know when you're lying.” Her gaze narrowed. “Where were you?”

Jane leaned forward enough to get a glimpse of Darby. He was on his cell phone. “I was out.”

“With a man?” When Jane didn't answer, Caroline gasped. “One of the hockey players!”

“Shhh!”

“Who?” she whispered and looked around as if the CIA were eavesdropping. Caroline considered herself bilingual and resorted to the language she and Jane had spoken since grade school. Pig Latin. “Ell-tay e-may, ane-jay.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Later.” She opened her laptop as the light show started on the ice below. During the game, she took notes and tried to keep her eyes off the goalie sitting on the bench, his arms folded across his chest, watching the game. Several times he turned and looked up into the press box. Three sections up, their gazes met and her heart got stuck in her throat.

And she looked away. She'd never felt so unsure in her life. And for a woman who took charge of things and proceeded accordingly, she hated feeling so uncertain. It put knots in her stomach and made her head ache.

“Jane?” Caroline shook her shoulder as if she'd been trying to get her attention.

“What?”

“I called your name three times.”

“Sorry, I'm thinking about my article,” she lied.

“Darby wants us to meet him for a drink after the game.”

Jane leaned forward and looked at the assistant general manager. She doubted Darby wanted her to tag along. “I can't,” she said, which was the truth, and which she also figured Darby knew. “I have to talk to the players and write the article before deadline.” She also had to put together the interview she'd done with Luc. “You two go without me.”

Darby made an effort to look sorry. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive.” She almost felt sorry for Darby. She loved Caroline, but her friend was going to stomp Darby's nerdy heart beneath her Ferragamos. Once again she thought perhaps she should warn Darby, but she had her own heart to worry about.

The Chinooks lost to the Bruins two–three. After the game, Jane took a deep breath and entered the locker room again. Luc's pads hung in his stall, but he was gone. She let out her pent-up breath, feeling an odd mix of relief and anger. The horrid push and pull of falling in love. Luc had known she would be in the locker room after the game, and he'd left without harassing her. The jerk.

Jane interviewed Coach Nystrom and the second-string netminder, who'd made twenty saves out of twenty-three shots on goal. She talked to Hammer and Fish, then, with her briefcase and jacket in one hand, she made her way toward the tunnel.

Luc stood near the exit watching her walk toward him. He wore his navy Hugo Boss and a maroon silk tie and he was so handsome he made her mouth water.

“I have something for you,” he said and pushed himself away from the wall.

“What?”

He looked behind her as a sports-beat reporter from Jane's rival paper passed.

“Jim.” Luc nodded his head.

“Martineau.”

The reporter eyed Jane as he walked by, and Jane didn't have to read his mind to know that he was wondering about her relationship with the notoriously tight-lipped goalie.

Luc glanced behind her again, then he pulled her red lace thong from the pocket of his jacket. “These. Although I'm thinking I should probably keep these for luck,” he said and dangled them from his finger. “Maybe have them bronzed and put on a plaque to hang above my bed.”

Jane snatched them away and shoved them in her briefcase. She looked behind her at the empty hallway. “They didn't bring you luck. You didn't play tonight.”

“I'm thinking about a different kind of luck.” He reached for her and slid his fingers through her hair. “Come with me.”

Oh, Lord. She stood perfectly still when what she really wanted was to fall into his chest. “Where?”

“Somewhere.”

She forced herself to step back, and his hand fell to his side. Push and pull, her heart felt like taffy. “You know I can't be seen with you.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You know why not.”

“Because you want people to think you're a professional.”

He did get it. “Exactly.”

“You've been seen with Darby.”

“That's different.”

“How?”

She didn't love Darby. Looking at Darby didn't pull her in different directions. And besides, if she denied a relationship with Darby Hogue, people might actually believe her. If she had to deny a relationship with Luc,
no one
would believe her.

“He doesn't have the bad reputation you do.” And once the March issue of
Him
hit the stands, Luc's reputation was going to get worse.

He simply stared at her as if he couldn't believe what she was saying. “So, if I was a nancy-boy, you'd be seen with me?”

“For goodness' sake. Darby isn't a nancy-boy.”

“You're wrong about that, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. She wondered how many different women in how many different states he'd called sweetheart. She wondered how many of those women let it fool them into thinking they were different from the others. She wondered how many were foolish enough to let themselves fall in love with Luc.

Let
.
As she gazed up at the deep bow of his top lip and his blue eyes and long lashes,
let
sounded as if she'd been in control. As if she'd had a choice. She hadn't and she didn't, or she wouldn't have
let
it happen. With her heart aching, urging her to wrap her arms around his neck and never let go, she forced herself to say, “Last night was a mistake. We can't let it happen again.”

“Okay.”

Okay
! Her heart was breaking and he said
okay
.
She didn't know whether to punch him in his Lucky tattoo or run away before she burst into tears. While she decided, he opened a door behind him, grabbed her hand and pulled her into a cleaning closet. He shut the door, then turned on the light.

“What are you doing, Luc?”

“Earning that bad reputation you were talking about.”

She held up her briefcase in front of her. “Stop.” He smiled, and she didn't know whether it was the smell of cleaning solutions or Luc's mojo, but she felt light-headed.