See Jane Score

Jane drove to the Laundromat and shoved her dirty clothes into four washing machines. Beneath her suit, she wore a pair of days-of-the-week panties. It was Tuesday, and she had on Saturday’s. Not that it really mattered, she supposed. But it did illustrate her life at the moment.

While she watched her clothes tumble dry, Darby called her cell phone and asked her advice. It seemed that he too had fallen for someone unattainable.

“Do you think Caroline would go out with me?” he wanted to know.

“I don’t know. How did the drink with her go?” she asked, even though Caroline had called her the next morning with the gory details. The evening had started out okay but had taken a nosedive.

“I don’t think I impressed her much.”

“You told her about being a member of Mensa.”

“So?”

“I told you not to do that. Those of us with average intelligence don’t want to hear about your big brain.”

“Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you want to hear Brad Pitt brag about how good-looking he is?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No. Brad doesn’t have to brag about his looks. Everyone can see that he’s good-looking.”

Hmm. He was right about Brad. “Okay. How about a porn star? Do you want to hear a porn star brag about his huge package?”

“No.”

She switched the phone to her other ear. “Look, if you want to impress women, especially Caroline, don’t tell her how smart you are. Let it come out subtly.”

“I’m not very good at being subtle.”

He wasn’t kidding. “Caroline will be impressed with a guy who knows what wine to order.”

“Isn’t that kind of gay?”

And the flaming skull shirt wasn’t? “No. Take her somewhere nice.”

“And she’ll go?”

“Make it someplace really nice. Caroline loves to dress up. Always has.” She thought a moment and asked, “Are you a member of the Columbia Tower Club?”

“Yes.”

She’d thought so. “Take her there. It will give her a reason to wear her latest Jimmy Choos. And if she starts talking about shoes and fashion, pretend you’re interested.”

“I’m into designer fashions,” he said.

Jane smiled. “Good luck.” After she hung up, she called Caroline at Nordy’s and warned her that Darby would be calling. She was surprised that her friend didn’t have stronger objections to a date with him.

“I thought he annoyed you with his talk of Mensa,” Jane reminded her friend.

“He did, but he’s sort of cute in a Revenge of the Nerds kind of way,” Caroline explained, and Jane decided it was best if she stayed out of it. As she kept reminding herself, she had her own problems.

That night at the Chinooks/Lightning game, Luc hardly paid her any attention when she called him a dodo. He didn’t tease her or remind her of the night they’d spent together. In goal, he was his near-perfect self, stopping pucks with his fast hands and big body. The game ended in a tie, and afterward he wasn’t waiting to pull her into a closet and kiss her senseless.

Nor was he two nights later, when he recorded his sixth shutout of the season against the Oilers. On the flight to Detroit the next morning, he hardly glanced at her as he passed her seat, and it was excruciatingly obvious to her that he was avoiding her as much as possible. She didn’t know what she’d done, and she relived their conversation in the janitor’s closet over and over in her mind. The only thing she could think of that might make him avoid her so blatantly was that somehow he’d discerned her feelings for him, and he was running fast in the opposite direction. She’d worn red lipstick and bought a red blouse just for him. She was so pathetic. He’d told her he fantasized about making love to her on a dessert tray, and she’d believed him. She was the worst kind of fool.

Now he was avoiding her almost completely, and she was startled by how much it hurt. They’d made love and she’d thought they’d had a really good time. She hadn’t made demands, and if anything, by pulling her into that closet he’d led her to think he wanted more than a one-night stand.

He’d told her he didn’t think of her as a groupie, and now he treated her as if she were the worst kind. A groupie that he must avoid at all costs. Not only did that hurt, it made her angry. Beyond angry to the point of doing him bodily harm. She’d even given a few moments’ thought to quitting her job just so she wouldn’t have to face his disinterest. But the few moments passed quickly when she reminded herself that she would not shoot herself in the foot over a man. Not even a man she loved with her whole aching heart. Not even when seeing that man made her miserable.

Once in her room later that day, she tried to write a rough draft for her Single Girl article, but she stared out the window looking over Lake Michigan more than she wrote. Her relationship with Luc would have ended eventually anyway, she told herself. Better sooner than later. At least this way she didn’t have to feel as guilty about the Honey Pie article. Too bad she couldn’t make her conscience listen.

A few hours later, when the telephone didn’t ring, she tried to tell herself that Luc was too busy with the team to call. That he wasn’t meeting one of his Barbie Dolls. She didn’t want to think about him with another woman, but she couldn’t help it. And the thought of him kissing and touching one of his women drove her crazy.

At six that evening, she met Darby at one of the hotel restaurants. Over the course of the meal, she drank two martinis while she listened to him rattle on about Caroline.

After dinner, they went to the sports bar inside the hotel. Five of the Chinooks sat at a table drinking beer, eating bar food, and watching Denver give the Kings a royal trouncing. Luc was with them too. At the sight of him, apprehension and relief lifted her stomach. He wasn’t with a Barbie Doll.

“Hey, Sharky,” everyone called out to her. Everyone but Luc.

The pull of his brow and the cool appraisal of his blue eyes told her that Luc wasn’t at all happy to see her. Her battered heart took another bruising.

She took a seat between Daniel and Fish and was careful not to make significant eye contact with Luc. She was afraid that every hockey player at the table would see that she was in love with their goalie. That he would see it too, and become even more distant, which probably wasn’t possible.

She couldn’t quite force herself to ignore him completely, though, and her gaze was drawn to his across the table. He sat back in his chair, his hand at his side, relaxed, at ease. Except for his intense gaze, which appeared for all the world as if he were trying to see to the back of her brain. He reached for his glass and took a drink of water. He sucked an ice cube into his mouth and a drop of water rested on his top lip. He chewed the ice and she looked away.

“I read your last Single Girl column,” Fish told her. “I think you’re right that nice guys really do finish last. I’m a nice guy, and I have to give up my house on Mercer to my ex-wife.”

“That’s because she caught you with another woman,” Sutter reminded him. “That really tends to piss off the old lady.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Fish grumbled and looked over at Jane. “What are you writing now?”

She hadn’t really come up with much yet. Nothing she wanted to discuss anyway, but she opened her mouth and, “Is a one-night stand ever a good idea?” popped out. She immediately wished she could take that one back.

“I think it is,” Peluso said from down the table.

“Yeah.”

“I say go for it.”

“Unless you’re married,” Fish added. “You’re not planning a one-nighter, are you?”

She shrugged and forced herself to sound cool and emotionless. Detached. Like a man. “I’m thinking about it. There’s a guy with the Detroit press who’s very hot. I talked to him the last time I was here.”

Across the table Luc stood, and she watched him move toward the bar. Her gaze slid down the back of his