See Jane Score

“If I had a penis,” she said, “no one would think I was having sex with Darby.”

“Don’t be too sure about that. We’re not altogether sure of the little weasel’s sexual orientation.” Luc reached for his beer and Jane’s lungs squeezed a little. He’d left the top two buttons of his shirt undone and the soft material fell away from his chest, exposing his clavicle and the top of his muscular shoulder and neck.

She could set Luc straight on that score, but she didn’t bother to inform him that Darby had wanted dating tips over dinner. “How’re your knees?” she asked as she rested her forearms on the table.

He raised the Molson’s to his mouth and said, “One hundred percent.”

“Completely pain-free?”

He lowered the bottle and sucked a drop of beer from his bottom lip. “What? You don’t know? I thought you made digging into my past your calling in life.”

His conceit was outrageous and a little too close to the truth. For some reason she could not even explain to herself, Luc intrigued her more than the other Chinooks. “Do you really think that I don’t have anything better to do than to spend my time thinking about you? Digging up a little of the goods on Luc Martineau?”

Fine lines appeared at the corners of his eyes and he laughed. “Sweetheart, there is nothing little about Luc’s goods.”

The Jane who wrote the Single Girl column would have a sophisticated comeback and dazzle him with her wit. Honey Pie would take him by his hand and lead him to a linen closet. She’d unbutton the rest of his shirt and place her mouth on his warm chest. Breathe heavily the scent of his skin and melt into his hot hard body. She would see for herself if he told the truth aboot those goods. But Jane was neither of those women. The real Jane was too inhibited and self-conscious, and she hated that a man who made her catch her breath was the same man who looked through her and found her so lacking.

“Jane?”

She blinked. “What?”

He reached across the table and the tips of his long fingers brushed hers. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” It was the slightest of touches, maybe not even quite a touch, but she felt the tingles from it travel through her palm and up her wrist. She stood so quickly the table rocked. “No. I’m going to my room.”

The combination of alcohol, Luc’s molten mojo, and the grind of the last five days sloshed about in her brain as she looked around for the bank of elevators. For a few seconds she was disoriented. Three different hotels in five days, and suddenly she couldn’t remember where the elevators were. She glanced toward the registration counter and spied them off to the right. Without a word, she walked from the lobby bar. This was not good, she told herself as she moved across the hotel lobby. He was so big and overtly male, he made her wrist tingle and her brain go numb. She stopped in front of the elevator doors, her cheeks hot. Why him? She didn’t like him. Yes, he intrigued her, but that wasn’t the same as liking him.

Luc reached around her from behind and pressed the elevator button. “Going up?” he asked next to her ear.

“Oh, yeah.” She wondered how long she would have stood there like a fool before she realized that she hadn’t pressed a button.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Why?”

“You smell like vodka.”

“I had a couple martinis with dinner.”

“Ah,” he said as the doors opened and they stepped into the empty elevator. “Which floor?”

“Three.” Jane looked down at the toes of her boots, then moved her gaze to his blue and gray running shoes. As the doors closed, he leaned against the back panel and crossed one foot over the other. The hem of his Levi’s brushed the white white laces. She lifted her gaze up his long legs and thighs, up the bulge of his fly and the buttons of his shirt to his face. Within the cramped confines of the elevator, his blue eyes stared back at her.

“I like your hair down.”

She pushed one side behind her ear. “I hate my hair. I can’t ever do anything with it and it’s always in my face.”

“It’s not bad.”

Not bad? As compliments went, it ranked right up there with, “Your butt’s not that big.” So why did a tingle in her wrist travel to her stomach? The doors opened, saving her a response. She stepped out first and he followed.

“Where’s your room?”

“Three-twenty-five. Where’s yours?”

“I’m on the fifth floor.”

She stopped. “You got off on the wrong floor.”

“No, I didn’t.” He took her elbow in his big hand and moved with her down the hall. Through the material of her sweater, she felt the warmth of his palm. “When you stood up in the lobby, you looked like you were about to fall over.”

“I haven’t had that much to drink.” She would have stopped again if he hadn’t kept moving her along the blue and yellow carpet. “Are you escorting me to my room?”

“Yep.”

She thought of the first morning when he’d carried her briefcase, then told her that he wasn’t trying to be nice. “Are you trying to be nice this time?”

“No, I’m meeting the guys in a few and I don’t want to have to wonder if you made it to your room without passing out on the way.”

“And that would ruin your fun?”

“No, but for a few seconds it might take my attention off Candy Peeks and her naughty cheerleader routine. Candy’s worked real hard on her pom-poms, and it would be a shame if I couldn’t give her my undivided attention.”

“A stripper?”

“They prefer to be called dancers.”

“Ahh.”

He squeezed her arm. “Are you going to print that in the paper?”

“No, I don’t care about your personal life.” She pulled her plastic room key from her pocket. Luc took it from her and opened the door before she could object.

“Good, because I’m yanking your chain. I’m really meeting the guys at a sports bar that’s not too far away.”

She looked up into the shadows of his face created by her darkened room. She didn’t know which story to believe. “Why the BS?”

“To see that little wrinkle between your brows.”

She shook her head as he handed her the key.

“See ya, Ace,” he said and turned away.

Jane watched the back of his head and his wide shoulders as he walked down the hall. “See ya tomorrow night, Martineau.”

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Are you planning on going into the locker room?”

“Of course. I’m a sports reporter and it’s part of my job. Just as if I were a man.”

“But you’re not a man.”

“I expect to be treated like a man.”

“Then take my advice and keep your gaze up,” he said as he turned once more and walked away. “That way you won’t blush and your jaw won’t hit the floor like a woman.”

The next night Jane sat in the press box and watched the Chinooks battle it out with the Los Angeles Kings. The Chinooks came out strong and put three goals on the board in the first two periods. It appeared Luc would have his sixth shutout of the season until a freak shot glanced off defenseman Jack Lynch’s glove and flipped behind Luc into the net. At the end of the third frame the score was three-one, and Jane breathed a sigh of relief. The Chinooks had won. She wasn’t a jinx.

At least not today. She would have a job when she woke in the morning.