red tie, gold watch, and a blond woman.”
He let his gaze slide down her back to her round booty. Everything about Jane was small but her attitude. “Were you jealous?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Of the watch?”
“That too.”
Instead of answering, she moved into the kitchen and asked, “Do you want a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks. I don’t drink caffeine.” He followed but stopped in the doorway of the narrow kitchen. “Are you going to take your job back?”
She set the book he’d given her on the counter and poured coffee into a tall Starbucks mug. “I might.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a quart of milk. The door had Post-Its stuck all over it with notes reminding her to buy everything from pickles and saltines to Comet. “How much is it worth?” she asked as she put the milk away and shut the refrigerator.
“To me personally, or the team?”
She raised the mug to her lips and looked across at him. “You personally.”
She was going to take advantage of the reversal of circumstances. Squeeze it for all it was worth. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t have done the same thing if the situation was reversed. “I gave you a peace offering.”
“I know, and I appreciate the gesture.”
She was good. Maybe he’d fire Howie and hire Jane to negotiate his next contract. “What do you want?”
“An interview.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “With me?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After I’ve had time to do some research and get my questions together.”
“You know I hate interviews.”
“I know, but I’ll make it painless.”
He rocked back on his heels and looked down at the front of her shirt. “How painless?”
“I won’t ask you personal questions.”
She was still cold and should probably put on a sweatshirt or something. “Define
“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you about your women.”
He slid his gaze to the delicate hollow of her throat, past her lips to her eyes. “Some of that stuff you’ve probably read about me isn’t true,” he said and didn’t know why he was defending himself to her.
She blew into the mug. “Some?”
He dropped his hands to his sides and shrugged. “I’d say at least fifty percent was made up to sell books or papers.”
From behind her coffee, one corner of her mouth lifted. “Which fifty percent is true?”
She looked so cute looking up at him, smiling, he was almost tempted to tell her. “Off the record?”
“Of course.”
Almost. “None of your business. I don’t talk about the women in my past or my time in rehab.”
She lowered the mug. “Fair enough. I won’t ask you anything about rehab or your sex life. There’s been enough written about that, and it’s boring.”
“And besides,” she added, “I don’t want anything you tell me to blow my illusions of you.”
“What illusions?” He leaned one shoulder against the doorway. “That I have threesomes every night?”
“You don’t?”
“No.” He looked at her standing there telling him his sex life was boring and he decided to shock her a little bit. Just a bit with something she’d probably read about anyway. “I tried it once, but the girls were more interested in each other than me. Which didn’t do much for my self-esteem.”
She started to laugh and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone with a woman in her apartment, laughing and talking with her, and not trying to maneuver her toward the bedroom. It was kind of nice.
The night after Luc’s visit, Jane sat next to Darby in the press box for the Chinooks’ Vancouver game. An octagonal Scoreboard with four video screens hung from the center of the pyramid-shaped roof. Lights bounced off the big green Chinooks logo below at center ice, and the pregame laser show had yet to begin. It was half an hour until the scheduled puck drop, but Jane was ready with a pad of paper and her recorder in her bag. She was back and more excited than she let on. Except for Darby, management had yet to arrive, and she wondered if they’d give her the cold shoulder.
She looked across at him. “Thanks for getting my job back for me.” His forearms rested on his knees as he gazed out at the arena. Tonight he’d applied a little less hair gel than usual, but beneath his blue suit jacket, he wore his trusty pocket protector.
“It wasn’t just me. The players felt bad after you came to the locker room and wished them luck. They thought anyone that gutsy should have her job back.”
“They wanted me back because they think I’m lucky now.”
“That too,” he said through a smile as he gazed at the ice below. “What are you doing next Saturday?”
“Aren’t we on the road?”
“No, we leave the next day.”
“Then nothing.” She shrugged. “Why?”
“Hugh Miner is having his jersey retired at a big banquet at the Space Needle.”
The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Who’s Hugh Miner?”
“Chinooks goalie from ‘96 to his retirement last year. I was wondering if you’d want to go.”
“With you? On a date?” she asked as if he were crazy.
His pale cheeks flushed, and she realized that had come out all wrong. “It doesn’t have to be a date,” he said.
“Hey, I don’t mean that like it sounded.” She patted his shoulder through his jacket. “You know I can’t date anyone involved in the Chinooks organization. It would only cause more speculation and rumor.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Now she felt really bad. He probably couldn’t get a real date to go with him, and she’d added insult to injury. “I suppose I’d have to dress up.”
“Yes, it’s black tie.” He finally looked at her. “I’d pick you up in a limo, so you wouldn’t have to drive.”
How could she possibly say no? “What time?”
“Seven.” The cell phone hooked to Darby’s belt rang and he turned his attention to the call. “Yes,” he said. “Right here.” He glanced at her. “Right now? Okay.” He disconnected and returned the phone to his belt clip. “Coach Nystrom wants you in the locker room.”
“Me? Why?”
“He didn’t say.”
Jane stuffed her notebook in her bag and headed out of the press box. She took the elevator to the ground level and moved through the hall to the locker room, wondering the whole time if she was about to get fired again; if she was, she feared that this time she just might go ballistic.
When she walked into the room, the Chinooks were all suited up and imposing in their battle gear. They sat in front of their stalls listening to the coach, and Jane stopped just inside the door as Larry Nystrom talked of the weakness in Vancouver’s second line and how to score against their goalie. She looked across the room at Luc. He wore his big goalie pads and white jersey with the blue and green Chinook on the front. His gloves and helmet were beside him as he stared at a point just beyond his skates. Then he looked up and his eyes locked with hers. He simply looked at her for several heartbeats, then his blue gaze began a leisurely journey down her gray sweater, over her black skirt and tights to her black penny loafers. His interest was more curious than sexual, but it pinned her in place and made her heart feel heavy in her chest.
