See Jane Score

“What?”

He looked behind her as a sports-beat reporter from Jane’s rival paper passed.

“Jim.” Luc nodded his head.

“Martineau.”

The reporter eyed Jane as he walked by, and Jane didn’t have to read his mind to know that he was wondering about her relationship with the notoriously tight-lipped goalie.

Luc glanced behind her again, then he pulled her red lace thong from the pocket of his jacket. “These. Although I’m thinking I should probably keep these for luck,” he said and dangled them from his finger. “Maybe have them bronzed and put on a plaque to hang above my bed.”

Jane snatched them away and shoved them in her briefcase. She looked behind her at the empty hallway. “They didn’t bring you luck. You didn’t play tonight.”

“I’m thinking about a different kind of luck.” He reached for her and slid his fingers through her hair. “Come with me.”

Oh, Lord. She stood perfectly still when what she really wanted was to fall into his chest. “Where?”

“Somewhere.”

She forced herself to step back, and his hand fell to his side. Push and pull, her heart felt like taffy. “You know I can’t be seen with you.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You know why not.”

“Because you want people to think you’re a professional.”

He did get it. “Exactly.”

“You’ve been seen with Darby.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

She didn’t love Darby. Looking at Darby didn’t pull her in different directions. And besides, if she denied a relationship with Darby Hogue, people might actually believe her. If she had to deny a relationship with Luc, no one would believe her.

“He doesn’t have the bad reputation you do.” And once the March issue of Him hit the stands, Luc’s reputation was going to get worse.

He simply stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “So, if I was a nancy-boy, you’d be seen with me?”

“For goodness’ sake. Darby isn’t a nancy-boy.”

“You’re wrong about that, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. She wondered how many different women in how many different states he’d called sweetheart. She wondered how many of those women let it fool them into thinking they were different from the others. She wondered how many were foolish enough to let themselves fall in love with Luc.

Let. As she gazed up at the deep bow of his top lip and his blue eyes and long lashes, let sounded as if she’d been in control. As if she’d had a choice. She hadn’t and she didn’t, or she wouldn’t have let it happen. With her heart aching, urging her to wrap her arms around his neck and never let go, she forced herself to say, “Last night was a mistake. We can’t let it happen again.”

“Okay.”

Okay! Her heart was breaking and he said okay. She didn’t know whether to punch him in his Lucky tattoo or run away before she burst into tears. While she decided, he opened a door behind him, grabbed her hand and pulled her into a cleaning closet. He shut the door, then turned on the light.

“What are you doing, Luc?”

“Earning that bad reputation you were talking about.”

She held up her briefcase in front of her. “Stop.” He smiled, and she didn’t know whether it was the smell of cleaning solutions or Luc’s mojo, but she felt light-headed.

“Okay.” He reached beside her and locked the door.

She looked at the doorknob and then at him. “Luc!” He couldn’t just drag her off anytime he felt like it. Could he? No! “I think I gave you the wrong impression last night. I don’t usually… I mean, I’ve never slept with someone I’ve just interviewed.”

He placed a finger on her lips. “Your sex life is none of my business. I don’t care who or how or what different positions you’ve been in.”

That he didn’t care hurt more than it should have. “But I want-”

“Shh,” he interrupted her. “Someone might hear you, and you don’t want to be seen with me. Remember?” He placed his hands on the door beside her head and leaned into her, forcing her backward. Her briefcase was all that kept their bodies apart. “I’ve been thinking about you since I woke up this morning.”

She was too afraid to ask what he’d been thinking about. “I have to go,” she said, fully aware that if she reached down and unlocked the door, he would let her leave. Yet she couldn’t make herself do it. “I have a column to write.”

“What’s a few minutes?”

The scent of his cologne mingled with the cleaning solution, and she couldn’t think of one reason why she shouldn’t stay for a few minutes. He wrapped one arm around her waist and lowered his face to hers. His voice was a harsh rasp against her mouth when he said, “Whatever you do, you keep that briefcase in front of your breasts.” Then he kissed her. His lips were warm, his mouth hot and, like everything about him, sexy and provocative. His kiss was aggressive one moment, then he backed off to leave her to chase his tongue. In an instant, awareness rushed across her skin and pooled deep in the pit of her stomach. Just a few more minutes. He slid his mouth across her cheek to the side of her throat. He pushed aside the collar of her blouse and gently sucked her skin. “You’re so soft,” he whispered as he worked his way to her ear. “Inside and out.”

On the other side of the door, male laughter and the Stromster’s heavy accent brought Luc’s gaze back to hers. His voice was as rough as his breathing when he said, “You still have a tight grip on that briefcase, sweetheart?”

She nodded and her grasp tightened.

“Good. Don’t let go, and don’t let me talk you out of handing it over,” he warned. “Or you’re likely to end up on the floor with me on top of you.”

She knew she should be appalled by their behavior. Kissing Luc Martineau in a janitor’s closet in the Key was extremely stupid, but a happy little bubble lifted her heart and made her want to laugh. Luc wanted her. It was there in the way he looked at her, the deep hungry timbre of his voice. He might not love her, but he wanted to be with her.

He took a few steps back. “This wasn’t one of my better ideas.”

More noise from the tunnel, and he said, “I think we might be stuck in here for a while yet.” He grabbed an empty five-gallon bucket and turned it over for her to sit on. “Sorry.”

She knew she should be sorry too. She had a deadline. She was stuck in a closet with Luc, and if discovered, it could be bad for both of them. She wasn’t that sorry, though.

She sat on the bucket and looked up at Luc towering over her. He stared back from beneath heavy lids, and she slid her gaze down his maroon tie, past his black belt, to the zipper of his pants. He was fully erect. She could recall with perfect clarity what he looked like naked. Hard body, harder penis, and hard-to-resist Lucky tattoo. Suddenly she wasn’t certain that a repeat of last night was such a bad plan. Not, however, she thought as she placed the briefcase by her side, in a janitor’s closet. “How’s your sister?” she asked, changing the subject along with the train of her unruly thoughts. “I know she liked her hair yesterday, but it’s always a shock the next day.”

“What?” Luc looked down into Jane’s green eyes and couldn’t believe the abrupt shift of her thoughts. Just a second ago, she’d been staring at his dick, and he hadn’t mistaken her interest. Now she wanted to talk about his sister. “She was fine when I saw her at lunch.”

“We talked a bit about her mother the other day.”

Luc took a few steps back and leaned his shoulder into the door. “What did she say?”