“It was just a thought.”
He put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze, a gesture he would never have made a month ago. “I know. I appreciate it. And Crikey has no idea what he’s getting into. Maybe it seemed like a big adventure tonight. But next month maybe he hurts somebody really bad. Or he loses a fight and people jeer and throw food at him. He doesn’t know all the shit that can happen. He doesn’t know to wonder if some asshole fan goes home drunk after the game and tries to imitate your signature left hook on his wife.”
“Jesus.”
“You asked.” It came out sounding really defensive, but this fucking topic got him all worked up. “Sorry.”
“No, I want to know what’s in your head.”
“Why?”
She gave him a furtive smile, but said nothing.
“I think you like me, Ariana. S’okay, though. You don’t have to admit it. It can be our little secret.”
“You passed your street,” she pointed out suddenly.
“No kidding. I’m walking the lady home. It’s late.”
Another furtive glance from Ari. “I appreciate it. But I’m going in alone.”
“Of course you are,” he assured her. Not that he wouldn’t like to come in, but he knew how to play the long game. He could be patient when he needed to be.
Hell, he liked her so much. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time. Maybe ever.
Her little building came into view. They crossed the brick street together, mounting Ari’s porch. He waited while she fished out her keys. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night.” She looked up at him with a shy smile. “Thanks for walking me home.”
She hesitated, and he didn’t miss it. Anyone who’d played pro hockey as long as he had could spot an opening like that. So he leaned in and gave her a kiss. It was meant to be only a tender one, because tender was how he felt toward Ari tonight.
But the moment his lips brushed hers, she made a soft sound of happiness. Her lips were even sweeter than he remembered. She tasted of white wine and sweetness. He cupped the back of her neck to perfect their connection, and her arms wrapped around his body.
Yes. This was everything. The whole fucking league could burn to the ground as long as her lithe arms held him tightly. He slicked his tongue across the seam of her lips, because he couldn’t help himself. She gasped and opened immediately.
Their tongues tangled. All he wanted was to lose himself in her kiss all night long.
But she’d said no.
Not tonight.
Goddamn it.
It took every shred of his willpower to ease up. He slanted his head one more time. One more kiss. One more perfect taste. Then, panting, he stepped back, careful to hold her by the ribcage until she stood on her own two feet again.
Breathing hard, Ari blinked up at him.
“Good night, sweetheart. Sleep well.”
For a split second, she looked at the keys in her hand as if she’d never seen them before. Then she shook them out and turned toward the lock. “Good night, Patrick.”
His chest gave a squeeze. Nobody ever called him Patrick. Not since he was eight and lost his mother. “Let me hear you lock that door behind you.”
She pushed inside, gave a quick wave and shut the door. He heard the deadbolt a moment later.
There was nothing left to do but walk away.
FOURTEEN
After locking the door, Ari peeked through the curtains to watch Patrick retreat toward Water Street.
Tonight she’d be staying alone in her house for the first time since Vince’s breaking and entering. She could have asked Patrick to stay, but she knew exactly where that would lead. It wouldn’t be his fault, either. She did not trust herself at all around that man. Even if she’d asked him to stay in the guest bedroom . . .
Right. Too much temptation.
There were other options. She could have slept on Becca’s couch, or Georgia and Leo’s. But she was determined not to let Vince drive her out of her own home. So she flipped on a lamp in the living room and took stock. Everything was just as she’d left it. There was no reason to believe that anyone had broken into her home, but she had a good look around just to make herself feel sure.
Then, even though it was silly, she brought her Katt Phone upstairs with her. She put it on the charger right beside her bed, just in case. After getting ready for bed, she locked her bedroom door for perhaps the first time ever. But maybe it would help her sleep to know that there was one extra barrier between herself and trouble.
It took her a long time to fall asleep, but she managed. Two times she only woke up to listen to the sounds of her old house settling. To ease her mind, she replayed Patrick’s big, steamy kiss on her front stoop. God, that man was a maddening study in contrasts. Nobody had as cool a facade as Patrick O’Doul. He didn’t like to be touched. But he kissed like he was starving for it. Thinking of him made her toss and turn for different reasons.
It wasn’t the most restful night’s sleep, but she did it. Vince hadn’t won, and he wasn’t going to.
The next morning was an easy one, thankfully. She sat through a staff meeting with Henry and the other trainers. And she didn’t happen to bump into Patrick at the practice facility, thank goodness. She would need to put on her game face before seeing him again. That kiss had scrambled her brain.
After the meeting she went home to pack for the team’s four-day trip to North Carolina and Philly. It was a mid-day flight this time, and, she made sure to hire a car which would get her to the airport early. Missing the team jet was one of the more embarrassing mistakes an employee could make. Her boss Henry had actually managed to get himself left behind in Dallas once last year when he lost track of time. His Katt Phone had run out of batteries, too, so the team couldn’t raise him. His punishment had been twofold: a very expensive plane ticket and a whole lot of ribbing.
Ari arrived at the airport an hour ahead of time, because she didn’t ever want to make that mistake. A woman’s errors would always be counted differently. Her mother was right about that.
As a result of her promptness, she was the first one on the jet. And when Patrick O’Doul boarded a while later, he gave her a solemn nod before moving down the aisle. Do not turn and admire his ass, she ordered herself. And she didn’t. Maybe it was all the meditating she did, but willpower was one of Ari’s strengths.
At least she used to think so.
When the jet had reached cruising altitude, Trevor, one of the office assistants, tapped her on the shoulder. “Hugh Major would like a word with you in private.”
Ari closed her book with a startled slam. “Thank you,” she said, rising from her seat. It was not an ordinary occurrence to have the general manager asking for a meeting—let alone on the jet. Hell. What had she done wrong?
One recent sin leapt to mind.
She ran a hand through her hair. Then she stood up, straightening her skirt and heading for the back. The players she passed were relaxing in their seats, earbuds in, listening to music or watching movies on their Katt Phones. Many were sleeping. Athletes were good at taking advantage of downtime. Their overworked bodies demanded rest, and they knew to give in.
Patrick O’Doul was not one of the players she passed, and it should have been a clue.
She rapped lightly on the office door.
“Come in!”
When she slid the door aside, her heart sank. There sat Patrick, a grim look on his face, beside Hugh Major. “You wanted to see me?”
“Sit down, Ariana. We have a bit of a situation.”
Shit! As she slid into the booth on the opposite side of the table from the men, her palms began to sweat. She knew it had been a mistake to sleep with Patrick. She just hadn’t known how huge.
But when she was seated, Hugh said something co
mpletely different than she’d expected. “Ariana, it seems you have a stalker. O’Doul brought it to my attention, but I do need you to know that you can always ask the organization for help with any security issues you’re facing.”
Ari opened her mouth and then closed it again. What the hell?
Hugh opened a file folder on the table in front of him and slid a photograph toward her. She felt nauseated as soon as she realized what she was looking at. A perfect shot of Patrick’s goodnight kiss. The resolution of the photograph was crystal clear. It demonstrated in all too much detail everything she’d felt about that kiss, and everything she’d never wanted the GM of the team to see.
“Turn it over,” Patrick said softly.
She flipped the photo onto the desk and saw a hasty scrawl in black marker on the back.
YOU STUPID FUCK.
Her mouth was as dry as the desert. Ari pushed the photo across to Hugh, afraid to look up. But when she did, there was nothing but worry in his eyes. “Where did it come from?”
Patrick laced his hands together and squeezed so hard his knuckles were white. “It was delivered to the Bruisers offices this morning in an unmarked envelope. But it’s not hard to guess who sent it.”
No, it wasn’t. “My ex,” she said, the word almost choking her. Before now she’d never felt toxic—like everything she touched became tainted with scandal. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Ari,” Hugh said. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault. But we’re really good at security around here. You can tell us if there’s a problem. I’m going to ask our security team to make you a panic button.” He held up his thumb and index fingers, about an inch apart. “It’s a little device this big. You can wear it around your neck. If you push the button, Kattenberger Technologies routes the emergency to law enforcement and our private team, too.”
Yikes. “That’s really not necessary,” she said. Knowing her luck, she’d push it by accident while stretching in child’s pose and summon a battalion to her door.
Hugh chewed his lip. “I think it is. I hear you have an order of protection against this asshole?”
“I got one,” she cleared her throat, hating that her personal troubles were now being aired at work. “But it hasn’t been served to him yet. The process server I hired can’t find him.”
There was a deep silence while the GM probably questioned her judgment for getting involved with a jerk like Vince. “I want you to keep me apprised of the situation, okay? This guy involved my organization when he sent the photo to O’Doul.”
Ari flinched. So this is what complete mortification feels like.
“The reason we employ such an excellent security staff is that our athletes draw all kinds of unwanted attention. That’s not your fault,” Hugh said again. “The moment you joined our organization, your security needs changed. There will always be assholes who want to try to use your access to the team for their own ends. That’s why we’re equipped to handle situations like this.”
“I understand,” she said, if only to hurry the discussion along.
Hugh made a note on his legal pad. “Would you mind providing my security team with a copy of your order of protection?”
“Sure,” she said. Anything. Let’s just stop talking about it.
“Thank you. I’m turning this over to the security team when we land. But I’ll need you to report the photo to the police who opened the file after your break-in. I’ll email you a scan of the front and back. If they want the original, they can have that in two days.”
“I’ll send it to them,” she promised.
Hugh reached across and squeezed her hand. “Hang in there. Nobody’s gonna let him near you.”
“Thank you.” She slid out of the booth to make as fast a getaway as possible.
“Ariana, I’m sorry,” Patrick said quietly as she reached for the door.
She couldn’t look him in the eye. You should be. Why the hell had he shown the photo to Hugh before discussing it with her in private?
Instead of answering, she beat a trail back to her seat, sat down and closed her eyes. A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. Hugh hadn’t said a word about the kiss, of course. But that didn’t mean he had no opinion. Now he would see her as that employee, the one who fooled around with players. Would he tell Henry, too? Ugh. She could just kill Patrick for sharing that picture.
She spent the flight glued to her seat, hiding from everyone. Then she spent the afternoon in the bowels of the rink in Raleigh, avoiding people in general and Patrick specifically. He wasn’t on her therapy list that day, which helped.
There was a team dinner at an Italian joint that night, but Ari didn’t go. She slunk off by herself and took a hot yoga class at the health club adjacent to the hotel. After a quick shower, she treated herself to dinner at a falafel joint.
Back in the hotel lobby, she intended to go right upstairs and avoid the team. But no such luck. The players were milling around the glitzy fountain, discussing their plans for the evening.
“Let’s pick a place with dancing this time,” Castro suggested.
“Curfew is in an hour and a half,” Beringer said. “Let’s just pick someplace close.”
Ari skirted them all and headed for the elevator bank. Where Patrick O’Doul stood waiting. Crap!
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes kind.
Don’t call me that, she almost snapped. “Hi,” she said instead. She was still mad at his breech of their private business.
He was worried, though, her conscience whispered. But still! He could have handled it differently.
The elevator doors parted and he waited for her to step inside. She pressed the button for her floor. “What floor?” she asked him.
“Seven.”
She dropped her hand because seven was already lit. “I guess we’re going to the same place.”
Were they ever. While Ari was letting herself into room number 709, Patrick was swiping into 710.
“We’re neighbors,” he said.
“I see that.” It came out a little more abrupt than she’d meant it to, and his face fell.
She went inside and hurled her bag at the bed and then climbed onto it. A minute later she heard a tap on the door adjoining the rooms. “Ari?”
Oh, boy. She got up and opened her side, but she didn’t step out of the way to let him in. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry about the picture.” He reached forward and squeezed her hand. “I know you hate that Hugh saw it. I think it’s fine, but . . .”
“It’s not fine. I don’t want to be everyone’s gossip nugget.”
“I get that,” he said quickly. “I’d never have shown that photo to Hugh without your permission.”
She just stared at him. “Then why did you?”
“I didn’t. This envelope got dropped off at the office with my name on it—no return address. We get that shit sometimes. Instead of passing it to me, they gave it to the security team. They opened it and showed it to Hugh.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
Hell. She felt stupid now.
Patrick’s eyes went soft. “I’m sorry if you’re embarrassed. But I won’t apologize for kissing you. I can’t, because I’m not sorry.”
And, damn him, he stepped into the cramped space between their doors and kissed her again. His lips were soft and firm, and he tasted like mint and sex. She wished he didn’t taste so freaking good. It just wasn’t fair.
Ari made an unhappy noise, and then kissed him back.
With a chuckle, Patrick caught her chin in his hand. “Can I come in?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why? Nobody will know.”
“That’s what I used to assume, too.”
He ruffled her hair. “The horse is already out of the barn, sweetheart. Why do the time if we can
’t do the crime?”
“It’s just not a good idea.”
He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “I think it is,” he purred into her ear. His fingers rubbed up and down her back. “You feel tight.”
“It’s been a stressful day.”
“Too many massage appointments?”
“Too much shitty news.”
“Mmm,” he said, rubbing her back. It felt inconveniently marvelous. “Who massages you?”
She snorted. “Nobody.”
“Uh-huh. Want a massage?”
“I don’t know. Would it be a prelude to something else?”
“Is that a deal breaker?”
She smiled into the shoulder of his dress shirt. “Depends. How skillful is your massage technique?”
“For a guy who doesn’t like to touch people, I’d say I’m pretty decent.”
She laughed. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”
“I’m gonna let you find out.” He backed her into the room, and she let him. He felt so good, though. The backs of her legs collided with the bed and she sat down fast.
“Wait here. Where’s your table?” he asked, looking around. “Oh. There it is.”
Amused, she watched him struggle with unfolding her massage table. It took him a couple of minutes, but he did it. Whistling, he went into her bathroom and returned with four towels. Two of them went onto the table. Two he chucked onto the bed. Then he came back to stand in front of her. “Okay, sweetheart. Time to strip.”
She stood up and met his hungry gaze. “Really? You’re going to massage me? Or are we, like, writing a porno flick right now?”
He grabbed her top in two hands and tugged. “A little of both. Just work with me.” He lifted her shirt away, and she didn’t miss the appreciative look he gave her breasts in their lace bra. “This is going to be so much fun.”
Ari felt a sizzle right where it counted, and had to agree. Did it matter now that Hugh knew about them? Would it even help if she stopped getting carried away with Patrick?
Those were questions for later. Because he’d reached around her body to unzip her skirt. She let it fall, then swept her tights down her body and all the way off.