Slap Shot (4 page)

“Ah, that ref is blind,” shouted Phoenix, banging a beer onto the wooden table in front of him. He was one of the Vipers’ longest standing players and when I’d seen him and his wife at Mae and Wolf’s wedding, she had been pregnant.

“Yeah, he’s crap,” said another player I didn’t recognize, who had long, sleek raven-colored hair pulled into a low ponytail.

“Yeah, at this rate the Islanders are gonna win.” The sound of Rick’s deep, rasping voice shot up the hairs on the back of my neck. It was as if they traitorously craved the feel of his breath breezing across them.

“Then I’ll have to whoop that big, hairy loser’s ass again,” Rick went on. I watched his head tip back as he chugged on a beer.

“Ah, we’ll soon take him out,” Brick said. “It would be well worth a trip to the sin bin to see him messed up.”

Carly pushed a mug of coffee in front of me. “Sorry,” she said, making a face. “The Diggers are playing the Islanders today and Brick invited the guys around to watch the game.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” I said, my mouth dry and my stomach somersaulting. Shit, I was in the same damn room as him. How the hell had that happened? I’d been so busy planning on how to avoid him at the party and now here he was, at the first damn meeting. Still at least he hadn’t seen me. He was too involved in the game. Perhaps if I quickly outlined the main aspects of the party I could slip out unnoticed and catch up with Carly over the phone. Better still, let Maddie run the whole damn thing.

“So,” Carly was saying, “we’re holding the event here, that way there’s no problem with venues being unavailable.”

I nodded and slid my butt onto a stool, angling my shoulders away from the noisy gaggle of hockey players.

“And I was thinking of a theme, maybe Roman. I imagine everyone in costume, maybe togas, and with lots of fruit and champagne.”

I nodded. That sounded simple enough to organize.

“And maybe we could bring in a fountain. We don’t have one here, not even at the back by the pool.”

I scribbled down,
Roman/Togas/Fruit/Champagne/Fountains
onto the first page of her file. “I don’t know what you think, Carly, but how about having the bar and wait staff dressed as gladiators?” I suggested in a quiet voice.

“Oh, yes, that would be great.” Her eyes widened. “And I could dress up as an Empress and Brick as the Emperor. We could have crowns and everything.”

“It would work well,” I said, though I did wonder if Brick would actually agree to an Emperor’s costume and a crown. I guessed Carly would have to use her womanly powers of persuasion for that one. “The Romans were great ones for parties,” I went on, “lots of overindulgence and wild entertainment.”
But please don’t ask for lions
, I prayed silently. I had enough to cope with being in the same room as my nemesis, and lions would tip my sanity over the edge.

“I don’t think we’ll have lions, though,” Carly said. “I’ve never been a big cat lover. Those teeth and claws just give me the creeps.”

Phew.
“And would you like the invitations done in both English and Latin, with the dates in Roman numerals?” My mind was racing through all the standard questions.

“Oh, yes, definitely, great idea, and what about chariots?”

“Well that was a lousy result for the first period,” a deep voice boomed.

“Yeah, crap. Get me a beer, Brick,” Rick ordered.

“Get it yourself,” Brick replied.

I tensed. Thoughts of chariots fled and I reached for my coffee in the vain hope I could hide behind it if Rick came to the fridge, which was dead opposite me.

“Grab me one too?” Phoenix asked.

“Yeah, yeah, what did your last slave die of?” Rick muttered, his voice coming from just over my right shoulder.

“Can’t you do chariots?” Carly asked, her eyes studying mine.

“I’m not sure,” I said, wishing I had an invisibility cloak. This was soul-squirmingly embarrassing.

He was in front of me now, a mere ten feet away, tugging open the fridge door and clinking bottles of beer together. I tried to force my gaze from the curls of hair at the nape of his neck, away from the sheer size of his deliciously broad back, from the memory of those tiny dots of blood seeping through his shirt—wounds that had been caused by my frenzied passion during those three wonderful, heart-stopping orgasms he’d just about blown my mind with.

He turned, placed the beers on the opposite side of the breakfast bar and picked up an opener. His face was relaxed, his eyes soft.

Then he saw me.

His lips dropped into a flat line, his jaw tensed and his swirling brown gaze locked on mine. As I sucked in a breath, I saw him do the same, his chest swelling with the sharp intake of air.

“If chariots are a problem then that’s okay,” Carly was saying, “as long as we’re both there and our families are with us that’s the main thing, I just need a hand with the details. I haven’t done anything like this before.”

“I’m sure we can figure out chariots,” I said with a tremble in my voice, swallowing down a lump in my throat the size of a damn coliseum.

“Oh, okay, great.”

Tension fizzed between Rick and me like a live wire, the air above the breakfast bar sizzling with awareness and unspoken words. Finally I tore my eyes from his.
Damn, the man is even better-looking than I remembered.

I banged down my coffee. Reached for my pen and scribbled
chariots
, then underlined it twice, with hard, heavy strokes. The tinny sound of the beer lids hitting granite rattled toward me and I resisted looking up at him again.

“What about food?” Carly asked. “Any thoughts?”

“Um, well.”
Come on, brain, work.
“I guess lots of fruit, like you already said, and cheese, olives and bread. And the wine could be served in ceramic pitchers, that’s how the Romans would have served it.”

“Oh, you have so many lovely ideas, Dana, I’m thrilled Mae recommended you.”

I smiled a tight, forced smile.
Oh god, this is just the most nerve-jangling thing I’ve ever had to endure.

Without a word, Rick stepped past me. He didn’t pause, he just headed back to the couch, leaving a hint of his incredibly sumptuous aftershave wafting in the air, just enough to send every cell in every erogenous zone I possessed into a skittering frenzy.

“Would you like me to show you around?” Carly asked. “So you can get a feel for the size and see where to add in the chariots and fountain?”

“Yes, perfect, yes, please do.” I grabbed my stuff. I had to get out of there before I either exploded with suppressed desire or became a boneless heap on the floor, unable to function anymore because of sheer embarrassment. But thank goodness he hadn’t said anything about our meeting in my office. That would have been mortifying in front of a client.

Chatting excitedly, Carly showed me around the opulent home she shared with her fiancé. It had eight bedrooms, a gym, a formal living room and dining room and a pool big enough to moor several yachts in. It was incredibly tidy and ordered, and in the upper hallway I paused to admire Carly’s impressive collection of cycling medals, including the gold medal she’d won at the Beijing Olympics.

“Have you seen enough?” Carly asked as I headed toward the front door rather than going back into the kitchen. Fight-or-flight instinct had kicked in and flight had definitely won.

“Oh, yes, great, thanks.” I clutched my bag, file and case. “One last thing though, how many people are you thinking of inviting?”

“Probably about seventy or eighty,” Brick said, stepping into the hallway.

Carly looked up at him and her eyes softened. When he moved up tight to her side, she visibly melted against him.

“I’d like the whole team here,” he said, wrapping an arm around his fiancée and dropping a kiss to her head.

Carly looked like the cat who’d gotten the cream. “Not many on my side to invite,” she said. “But the team will all bring their wives and girlfriends so it will be a good excuse for us girls to get together.”

“Sounds great.” I stretched a smile across my face. My feet were twitching to get out of there, away from the one man who could make me forget my own name. Away from the man who was every bit as tempting as a bowl of cream. “I’ll be in touch over the next couple of days, once I’ve got the first arrangements in order.”

“Perfect, and again, thanks so much for taking the job on at such short notice,” Carly said. “We want to celebrate with everyone while we’re still so excited about it.”

“I understand.” I stepped out of the air-conditioning into the sunshine. “Goodbye, it was lovely to meet you both.”

The door shut behind me and I tottered across the deep gravel as fast as I could. The sun was hot but my body felt hotter. I scrabbled in my handbag, found my car keys, beeped the car to life and swung open the door.

“Why are you running?”

I gasped and spun around. Standing right behind me, looking too damn gorgeous for his own good, was Rick. He reached out and curled huge fingers over the car door, his body effectively trapping me between it and the interior.

“I’m not running,” I said stiffly.

“I’ve never seen anyone race that quickly across gravel in heels before in my life.”

“I’m in a rush.” I tugged at the door. It didn’t move. “Please, I have to go.”

“I want to know why you didn’t say hi back there?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I asked you first.”

“I-I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to, after, you know…”

“After I made you scream my name just like I’d predicted.” His mouth twitched into a cocky grin but his eyes held a hint of irritation.

“Don’t be so vulgar.”

“As vulgar as scarring me for life,” he huffed and his grin dropped. “The guys gave me seven shades of shit for those damn scratch marks when they spotted them in the locker room. They were desperate to know what wild thing had attacked me.”

Wild thing?
Well, I guess that was how I’d behaved, I deserved that one. “I said I was sorry. But you really shouldn’t have pushed me.”

“
I
pushed
you
?” His brows rose. “I think it was the other way around, it was you who kissed
me
first.”

I studied his mouth, so damn kissable, so sensuous. Bad Dana reared her head and wondered just what else he could do with that clever tongue and those soft lips. Bad Dana reckoned he’d be wickedly ruthless and disgracefully talented at doing sinful things with that mouth.

“So when are you going to call me?” he asked, his other hand resting on the roof of my car and his wide body hedging me in all the more. He appeared to be in no rush to let me go any time soon.

“Rick, I was honest with you.” My heart was thudding so fast I feared for its ability to sustain the rate. “I said it had been a mistake and that’s still how I view it. Nothing has changed.”

“I think it will.”

“No, it won’t, so go find some other woman to stalk.”

He flinched, as if I’d slapped him, hard. His eyes narrowed and he let go of the car, took a step back.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but please. I have to go.” I dropped into the driver’s seat with my file, laptop and purse balanced on my lap. As I grasped for the door, my purse slipped and the contents slid out across my lap and onto the gravel.

“Shit,” I muttered, reaching desperately for my wallet, a lipstick and my sunglasses.

“Here,” Rick said, passing me a hairbrush and a packet of mints.

My fingertips brushed his palm and the heated texture of his skin infused into mine. I pulled my hand away as if I’d been burned. I didn’t want to remember how good it was to touch him.

I slammed the door and gnawed at the inside of my cheek. Ground the car through the gears and tore down the gravel driveway, relieved to see the gates swinging open when I reached them. Within minutes I was flying down the freeway leaving bad Dana and a far too tempting hockey captain behind.

I arrived home feeling exhausted and emotionally wrung out. Dropping my stuff on the kitchen table, I stripped and leaped into the shower. The water was soothing on my buzzing body and washed away the sticky heat of the day. But what it didn’t do, couldn’t do, was quell the desire I felt whenever
that
man was around.

How come I’d resisted so many others over the last two years without batting an eyelid, with barely an ounce of effort, yet he had me stuttering and squirming? Five seconds of his company and I was looking at his mouth and imagining sitting on his face. Whenever he was within five feet of me I was drawn toward his muscular body, wanting it hard and heavy over me all over again.

Damn!

I shampooed and conditioned my hair then filled my palm with nectarine shower gel. Soaping my flesh, my fingers ran over my thighs and through my fuzz of black pubic hair. Tipping my face to the blasting water, I remembered his thick cock penetrating me—so rigid, so wide, so damn good. My fingers slipped through my soft folds, searched out my entrance and pushed in.

“Rick,” I mumbled into the water, sampling his name once more on my tongue. “Rick.” But my fingers weren’t enough. They weren’t big enough, they weren’t him. I reached out and flattened my other palm against the tiles of the shower cubicle, then withdrew and circled my clitoris, giving in to the swollen nub, which demanded attention.