Worth The Shot (The Bannister Brothers #2) (4 page)

He took a tentative step closer and lowered his voice. “Plus, I didn’t feel like Bane Bannister. Bane is a tough bastard who knocks guys down and gets into fights. Bane is not the guy who trembles in fear at a little turbulence in the sky. I didn’t feel brave. I didn’t feel tough. I didn’t feel like Bane the Brawler.” He offered her a crooked grin. “I felt more like Bane’s awkward, nervous counterpart, Ben.”

Her posture had relaxed a little from her earlier rigid stance. And he felt like he might be gaining a little ground with her. He didn’t want to think about how important it was to him that he win her over and get back into her good graces. He’d think about that later.

“Can you understand that? Just a little?” He picked up her hand and gently squeezed it. “Can you forgive me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess, maybe.” She glanced up at him and the corners of her lips tipped up in the slightest smile. “It depends on where you’re taking me for lunch.”

Yes. He’d earned a smile. And a weak attempt at a joke. He was back in the game. He grinned and went in for the shot. “Who makes the best pizza?”

She laughed and shook her head.

Score
.

Before he could say more, the elevator dinged and a blond-haired guy stepped out. He saw Addison and headed toward her. From his build and the cocky way that he walked, Bane guessed that he was a player, both on the ice and off. He was probably also one of Bane’s new teammates.

He approached Addison, slid an arm around her waist, and leaned his head down as if to kiss her. “Hey, baby.”

What the hell?

She deflected the kiss and pulled out of his embrace, an annoyed look on her face. “Get off me, Trent. And I’m not your baby.”

He shrugged, apparently unfazed by her tone. “You get my text? Did you bring me a breakfast burrito? I hope you got the mushrooms this time, like I told you, too.”

“No, I did
not
bring you anything. I just flew in and barely had time to shower and change before racing down here. Plus, I’m not your errand girl. Remember, I’m not your girl at all.”

Bane could feel the tension rolling off Addison’s shoulders, and a pink tinge colored her cheeks.

The guy shrugged. “Whatevs.” He cocked a thumb at Bane. “Who’s this?”

Bane held out his hand. “Bane Bannister from the Colorado Summit.”

He shook Bane’s hand, his grip a little too firm—like he was trying to prove something. “Trent Hadley.” He tilted his head and gave Bane a wary look. “So what’s one half of the Bannister Brawlers doing in St. Louis and in Blueshirts territory?”

“Dad is looking at Bane for a possible trade,” Addison explained.

Trent arched an eyebrow. “In the middle of the season? Who’d you piss off?”

Bane shrugged, trying to dismiss the invasive question. This guy might end up being his teammate, after all. Although usually the younger guys showed a little more respect to the veteran players, and Bane had obviously been in the league several more years than this guy. “Long story. I think I’ll be skating with you tomorrow, though.”

“All right. Cool. See you later, then.” He winked at Addison, a slimy wink that made Bane’s skin crawl. Addison didn’t look like she appreciated it much either. “I’ve got to talk to Coach, but I’ll see you tonight.”

They watched as Trent sauntered down the hall toward the coach’s office.

Bane nodded at the cocky player. “So, just who is Douchy McDouche, and why does he think you oughta be bringing him breakfast?”

She rolled her eyes then turned and led him down the hall. “We used to date, but I broke things off with him almost a month ago.”

“Are you sure? ’Cause I don’t think he got the memo.”

“Oh, I’m sure. This sport encourages violence and acting tough, but he crossed the line with me, and I don’t put up with that.”

Bane’s blood instantly boiled, and he turned back down the hall.
Who did this guy think he was?
“He laid his hands on you?”

“No, he didn’t hit me. Are you kidding? My dad would have thrown him off the team. But he got way too aggressive and belligerent with me, and I can’t stand that type of arrogance.”

He dropped his jacket and yanked up the sleeves of his shirt, his blood pumping and his adrenaline gearing up for a fight.

Addison stopped and planted her hands on her hips. “Seriously? What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to teach him a lesson about how ladies deserve to be treated.”

“Not right now, you’re not. Do it later, when you’re on the ice. Right now you need to keep your nose clean and your fists under control. Besides, I can fight my own battles.” She turned and headed down the hall without him, mumbling something about this was why she didn’t date hockey players.

She was right, of course. He didn’t need to be starting a fight. Especially with one of his own teammates. But Trent might find himself against the boards a few extra times during practice tomorrow.

***

Addison thumbed through a stack of ties, looking for one to match the tux that Bane had been trying on.

After an amazing lunch at her favorite pizza place, she and Bane had made it to the men’s store, and she’d helped him pick a suitable tux for the party that night. She had a strong suspicion that he was wholly capable of picking it out on his own, but he’d asked her opinion and taken her advice on the tux choice.

The store had been surprisingly empty—they’d been the only customers in the place for the past hour. Addison chalked it up to most men already having their holiday apparel ordered and purchased.

Bane was in the back dressing rooms, trying on the tux they had picked and having it measured and sized for tailoring. She dropped into the velvet chair that sat by the door to the dressing rooms and tried not to think about him being six feet away and undressed.

What was she thinking, letting herself get sucked into this man’s space?

Had she forgotten about The Rule?

Don’t date hockey players.

It seemed like a pretty simple rule. So why was it so hard to follow?

To be fair, she had kind of fallen for Bane before she knew he was a hockey player. And he did seem different than the other hockey players she had dated.

At least so far. He didn’t seem arrogant or cocky. He was funny. And cute. Like, so freaking cute.

But he’d also been part of a scandal involving that pop star and had a reputation for being a player and a partier. Was he just playing with her now? Was she just a game to him? It didn’t feel like it. And if she remembered right, that whole thing with the pop star was several years ago.

He didn’t seem like that much of a partier, either. He’d fallen asleep after one shot of whiskey on the plane, and after that, she’d only seen him drink Diet Coke. That didn’t seem like much of a drinker to her. Maybe the media just portrayed him that way, and she’d bought in to their hype.

But he
had
lied to her. And that one hurt.

He’d lied about who he was. Okay, maybe not lied, but
omitted
.

And she’d also seen the quick flash of his temper when she’d said that Trent had been too aggressive with her.

Who was she kidding? This was Bane Bannister, one half of the
Brawling
Bannisters. Which meant he liked to fight, liked to push people’s buttons, and liked to stir up trouble.

But was that just his game persona? She hadn’t seen any of that in his off-ice personality. In fact, he’d been nothing but easygoing and sweet. The waitress had spilled his soft drink at lunch, and he’d been forgiving and charming, coaxing a smile from the waitress and leaving her a generous tip.

She couldn’t figure him out. Had he really not known that she was Steve Cavanaugh’s daughter? Or was this an intricate plan to get into the good graces of her father? Somehow, that didn’t feel right. That didn’t feel like the Bane, or the Ben, that she knew.

But did she really know him? Could you really know someone after only spending a few hours with them? After sharing a few stories and a toe-curling kiss? Her body heated at the memory of that kiss. At the recollection of the feel of his lips against hers.

She squirmed in her seat.
Geez. What is the matter with me?

You’d think she’d never kissed a man before.

Actually, she’d never a kissed a man like
that
before. A kiss that went all the way through her, heating her body, and sending electrical tingles through all of her nerve endings.

She needed to stop. To get this under control. Think about the facts.

The simplest fact was that Bane was indeed a hockey player, which went against the most basic—and only—element of The Rule. Besides that, he was a hockey player on her
dad’s
team. Or he might be, if the trade went through. And if the trade didn’t happen, then he’d be on the next plane back to Colorado.

Besides, she’d heard her dad’s warning to Bane. No women.

So, he wouldn’t want to start anything with her anyway.

She was sure that she wasn’t that important to him. Not important enough to risk messing up hockey. She was just something he’d used to pass the time on an airplane.

Sure, he’d still been flirty and sweet at lunch, but she had to accept that this thing couldn’t really go anywhere. He had to focus on his career and getting this trade.

Which only reinforced The Rule—because when it came to hockey players, the game always came first. No matter what.

She stiffened her resolve. This was it. She’d finish helping him with the tux, then they were through. There was no point in starting something that would only end badly.

See, this was easy. Just follow The Rule.

No dating hockey players. No dating Bane.

She heard a door open and peeked into the dressing room area. The tailor must have finished his measurements, because she caught a glimpse of him as he headed into the back room beyond the dressing rooms.

“Pssst.” Bane poked his head out of the dressing room door. “Addison.”

She leaned forward. “What?”

“Come here. I need your help. Remember that embarrassing story I told you on the plane?”

Oh no. Surely he hadn’t split his pants. And if he did, what did he think she could do about it?

She stood but hesitated to enter the back area. It was the
men’s
dressing rooms. But no one else was in the store, so she knew the likelihood of her bothering another customer was pretty slim.

She tiptoed across the carpet to Bane’s dressing room door. He reached out his arm—his bare arm—Lord have mercy, he wasn’t wearing a shirt—and pulled her into the dressing room.

He had on his khakis but his feet were bare, and his chest was ripped with muscles. She noticed these things in the split second it took for him to shut the dressing room door and press her up against it.

Before she had time to react, he kissed her.

Not a soft, gentle kiss like the first one on the plane—but a hard, deep, passion-filled kiss. A kiss that had her head spinning and her body reacting—arching her chest into him as her fingers gripped his muscled shoulders. Her body heated and ached with want and need.

Her lips parted and his tongue slid inside—tasting her—his mouth making that soft, rumbling, sexy sound against hers. That sound that told her he was aroused and wanted her. That her kissing him back was causing the same heat and ache in him. Other parts of his body told her he was aroused too as he pressed against her, pinning her between his body and the door.

His body was hard and muscled and so freaking perfect. She clutched his back as he ran his hands along her sides, sliding over her curves, stroking and caressing.

She couldn’t think—couldn’t reason out what a bad idea this was—she could only feel. Feel his lips as they trailed a line of fiery kisses down her throat. Feel the solid strength of him as she ran her hands over his back and shoulders.

“Wait.” She pulled back, gasping for breath. “What are we doing? What if someone comes in?”
What if someone comes in?
Was that really her first concern?

How about
What the hell was she doing making out in the dressing room with a guy she barely knew, who was also a hockey player?
That seemed like the more pressing concern.

And what about
The freaking Rule
? Hadn’t she just convinced herself to stick to it and let him go?

The way she was gripping his broad shoulders did not seem to indicate she was letting him go—in any sense of the words.

He continued to ravage her neck, speaking between kisses. “No one better come in. I just gave the tailor a hundred dollars to keep everyone out of here for the next thirty minutes.”

Did he say a
hundred dollars
? And
thirty minutes
? Thirty minutes of his body pressed against hers.

“What? You did? Why?” She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t think. His lips felt so damn delicious against her neck.