See Jane Score

“Jane,” Larry Nystrom called to her. She pulled her attention from Luc and looked at the coach. He motioned her forward, and she moved to stand beside him. “Go ahead and say what you said to the guys the other day.”

She swallowed. “I can’t remember what I said, Coach.”

“Something about us keeping our pants up,” Fish provided. “And traveling with us being an experience.”

They all looked so serious she almost laughed. Until now, she’d never really believed they were this superstitious. “Okay,” she began to the best of her recollection, “keep your pants up, gentlemen, I have something to say and it will just take a minute. I won’t be traveling with you any longer, and I wanted you to know that traveling with you all has been an experience I won’t forget.” They all smiled and nodded except Peter Peluso.

“You said something about synchronized jock-dropping. I remember that part.”

“That’s right, Sharky,” Rob Sutter agreed. “I remember that too.”

“And you said you hoped this was our year to win the Cup,” Jack Lynch added.

“Yeah, that’s important.”

Did it really matter? Sheesh! “Do I have to start from the beginning?”

They all nodded and she rolled her eyes. “Keep your pants up, gentlemen, I have something to say and it will just take a minute and I don’t want any of that synchronized pants-dropping crap.” Or something like that. “I won’t be traveling with you any longer and I wanted you to know that traveling with you guys has been an experience I won’t forget. I hope this is your year to win the Stanley Cup.”

They all looked pleased and she started to leave before they made her crazy.

“Now you have to come and shake my hand,” the captain, Mark Bressler, informed her.

“Oh, that’s right.” She walked up to him and took his hand. “Good luck with the game, Mark.”

“No, you said Hitman.”

This was just weird. “Good luck with the game, Hitman.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Jane.”

“You’re welcome.” From outside, she could hear the pregame entertainment begin, and she once again headed for the door.

“You’re not finished, Jane.”

She turned and looked across the room at Luc. He stood and crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”

No way. No way was she going to call him a dodo in front of the guys.

“Come on.”

She looked around at the faces of the other players. If Luc played badly, they’d blame her. As if her shoes were lead, she walked across the dense carpet with the Chinooks logo in the center. “What?” she asked as she came to stand in front of Luc. In his skates, he was taller than usual, and she had to look way up.

“You have to say what you said to me the other day. For luck.”

That’s what she’d suspected, but she tried to get out of it. “You’re so good, you don’t need luck.”

He grasped her arm and gently pulled her closer. “Come on, now.”

His heated palm warmed her through her sweater. “Don’t make me, Luc,” she said just loud enough for him to hear. She could feel her face catch on fire. “It’s too embarrassing.”

“Whisper it in my ear.”

The creaking of leather pads filled the vanishing space between them as he bent over her. The scent of his shampoo and shaving cream filled her nose combined with the leather of his pads. “You dumb dodo,” she whispered beside his ear.

“That’s not right.” He shook his head and his cheeks touched hers for the briefest of seconds. “You forgot big.”

Oh, Lord. Before this was over, she was either going to die of shame or pass out or combust from pent-up lust. She really didn’t want to do any of the three. Especially the last one, but his testosterone level was like a heavy force field pulling her in against her will. She closed her eyes and locked her knees so she wouldn’t lean into him. “You big dumb dodo.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I appreciate it.”

Sweetheart. She opened her eyes. He turned his face, and with his lips inches from hers, he smiled. “Am I going to have to do this before every game?” she managed, though her voice sounded more breathy than she would have liked.

He didn’t seem to notice her voice. He straightened and tiny creases appeared in the corners of his eyes. “ ‘Fraid so.”

Finally, she felt as if she could breathe again. “I’m asking for a raise.”

He slid his big warm hand up her arm to her shoulder. He gave her cheek a light pat, then dropped his hand to his side. “Ask for a bigger expense account too. The next time we’re on the road, I’m going to win back that fifty I lost at darts.”

Jane shook her head and turned to go. “Not going to happen, Luc,” she said over her shoulder.

She made her way back up to the media booth and again sat beside Darby. King-5 was there as well as ESPN, broadcasting the Chinooks’ battle with Vancouver. With Luc Martineau securely back in his zone, Seattle came out on top in the three-one scrum. Seemingly without effort, he snagged the puck from the air and reminded everyone who watched exactly why he was considered a premier goalie.

In the locker room after the game, the team answered Jane’s questions. Although they didn’t keep their pants up, their disrobing seemed less calculated.

That night, once Jane sent her column off to the paper, she phoned Caroline and made her friend’s day, week, and year with four simple words. “I need a makeover,” she said as soon as Caroline picked up.

“Who is this?”

“Very funny. I have a fancy banquet to go to next week and I need to look good.”

“Thank you, Jesus, for this gift I am about to receive,” Caroline whispered. “I’ve waited for this for years. The first thing we need to do is make an appointment with Vonda.”

“Who’s Vonda?”

“The woman who’s going to wax you all over and shape that wild hair.”

Jane looked at the receiver in her hand. “Wax?”

“And hair.”

“The last time I let you do my hair, I ended up looking like Buckwheat.”

“That was tenth grade, and I won’t be doing it. After the hair, we’ll hook you up with Sara at the MAC counter where I work. The woman is a true artist.”

“I was thinking just a little mascara and some lip gloss. A nice black cocktail dress and some cheap pumps.”

“And we got in some fabulous Ferragamos today,” Caroline rattled on as if Jane hadn’t spoken. “In red. They’ll look prefect with a killer little Betsey Johnson I saw upstairs.”

Chapter 8

Boomer: A Hand Shot

Luc pulled the cuffs at his wrists, then slipped onyx studs through each. That morning at practice, he’d heard Jane would be at tonight’s banquet with Darby. He was curious to see what she’d show up wearing-something black, no doubt. He raised his hands and popped the last stud in the banded collar of his starched white shirt. He hadn’t spoken with her since the game against Vancouver.

The second-string goalie had played the last two games, giving Luc a much-needed break, and he hadn’t had the chance to talk to her. Not that he had anything that he wanted to say. But he liked to talk to her, and he liked to provoke her a bit to see her reaction. To see if she’d laugh or if her gaze would narrow and her lips get all pinched. Or if he could bring a blush to her pale cheeks.

He buttoned his charcoal suspenders to the waistband of his pleated trousers and wondered if Jane and Darby were dating now. He didn’t think they were. At least he didn’t like to think they were.