earrings.”
Hugh pulled Mae against his side and kissed the top of her head. “I’m not talking about drag queens, honey.”
“Is this your little girl?” Mark asked Georgeanne.
“Yes, she is.”
“What happened to your eye?” Lexie handed Georgeanne her plate, then pointed her last strawberry at Mark.
“The Avalanche caught him in the corner and gave him a pounding,” John answered from behind Georgeanne. He picked Lexie up with one arm and lifted her until they were eye level. “Don’t feel bad, he probably deserved it.”
Georgeanne glanced at John. She wanted to ask him about Virgil’s parting comment to her, but she would have to wait until they were alone.
“Maybe he shouldn’t have goosed Ricci with his stick,” Hugh added.
Mark shrugged. “Ricci broke my wrist last year,” he said, and the conversation turned to which man had suffered the most injuries. At first Georgeanne was appalled by the list of broken bones, torn muscles, and number of stitches. But the longer she listened, the more she found it morbidly fascinating. She began to wonder how many men in the room had their own teeth. Not many by the sounds of things.
Lexie placed her hands on the sides of John’s head, turning his face toward her. “Did you get hurt last night, Daddy?”
“Me? No way.”
“Daddy?” Dmitri looked at Lexie. “Iz yours?”
“Yes.” John turned his gaze to his teammates. “This little worrywart is my daughter, Lexie Kowalsky.”
Georgeanne waited for him to say that he hadn’t known about Lexie until recently, but he didn’t. He didn’t offer any explanation for his daughter’s sudden appearance in his life. He just held her in his arms as if she’d always been there.
Dmitri glanced at Georgeanne, then looked back at John. He raised a questioning brow.
“Yes,” John said, leaving Georgeanne to wonder about the silent byplay between the two men.
“How old are you, Lexie?” Mark asked.
“Six. I had my birthday, and now I’m in first grade. I gots a dog now, too, ‘cause my daddy gave him to me. His name is Pongo, but he’s not very big. He doesn’t got a lot of hair either, and his ears get cold. So I made him a hat.”
“It’s purple,” Mae told John. “It looks like a dunce cap.”
“How do you get the hat on your dog?”
“She pins him down between her knees,” Georgeanne answered.
John glanced at his daughter. “You sit on Pongo?”
“Yeah, Daddy, he likes it.”
John doubted Pongo liked anything about wearing a stupid hat. He opened his mouth to suggest that maybe she shouldn’t sit on her little dog, but the band struck up a few chords, and he turned his attention to the stage. “Good evening,” the lead singer said into his microphone. “For the first song of the night, Hugh and Mae have asked that everyone join them on the dance floor.”
“Daddy,” Lexie said barely above the music. “May I have a piece of cake?”
“Is it okay with your mom?”
“Yes.”
He turned to Georgeanne and lowered his mouth to her ear. “We’re heading to the banquet table. Do you want to come with us?”
She shook her head, and John looked deep into her green eyes. “Don’t go anywhere.” Before she had a chance to reply, he and Lexie headed across the room.
“I want a big piece,” Lexie informed him. “With lots of frosting.”
“You’ll get a tummy ache.”
“No I won’t.”
He set her on her feet beside the table and waited long, frustrating minutes for her to choose just the right piece of cake with purple roses only. He found her a fork and a place to sit at a round table beside one of Hugh’s nieces. When he turned to look for Georgeanne, he spotted her out on the dance floor with Dmitri. Normally he liked the young Russian, but not tonight. Not when Georgeanne wore a short little dress, and not when Dmitri looked at her as if she were a serving of beluga caviar.
John wove his way through the crowded dance floor and placed a hand on his teammate’s shoulder. He didn’t have to say anything. Dmitri looked at him, shrugged, and walked away.
“I don’t think this is a very good idea,” Georgeanne said as he gathered her into his arms.
“Why not?” He pulled closer, fitting her soft curves against his chest and moving their bodies to the mellow music.
“Because Dmitri asked me to dance, for one thing.”
“He’s a commie bastard. Stay away from him.”
Georgeanne leaned back far enough to look up into his face. “I thought he was your friend.”
“He was.”
A frown creased her forehead. “What happened?”
“We both want the same thing, only he isn’t going to get it.”
“What do you want?”
There were a lot of things he wanted. “I saw you talking to Virgil. What did he say?”
“Not a lot. I told him I was sorry for what happened seven years ago, but he wouldn’t accept my apology.” She appeared puzzled for a moment, then shook her head and looked away. “You said he’d moved on, but he’s still very bitter.”
John slid his palm to the side of her throat and lifted her chin with his thumb. “Don’t worry about him.” He stared into her face, then raised his eyes to the old man staring back at him. His gaze found Dmitri and a half dozen other men who’d taken shifty-eyed glances at Georgeanne’s bustline. Then he lowered his face and his lips took possession of hers. He possessed her with his mouth and tongue and his hand moving from her back to her behind. The kiss was deliberate, long, hard. She clung to him, and when he finally lifted his mouth, she was breathless.
“Cryin‘ all night,” she whispered.
“Now, tell me about Charles.” Her gaze was a little glassy and a bit dazed. The passion in her eyes made him think of tangled bedsheets and soft flesh.
“You want to know about Charles?”
“Lexie told me you’re thinking of marrying him.”
“I told him no.”
Relief washed over him. He wrapped his arms tight around her and smiled into her hair. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said into her ear. Then he pulled back and looked at her face, at her luscious mouth, and said, “Why don’t we find someplace where I can take advantage of you? How big is the counter in the women’s bathroom?”
He recognized the spark of interest in her eyes before she turned her head and tried to hide her smile. “Are you high on drugs, John Kowalsky?”
“Not tonight,” he laughed. “I listened to Nancy Reagan and just said no. How about you?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed.
The music ended and a faster song began. “Where’s Lexie?” she asked above the noise.
John looked over at the table where he’d left her and pointed her out. Her cheek rested in her palm and her lids were lowered to half-mast. “She looks like she’s about to pass out.”
“I better take her home.”
John slid his hands from her back up to her shoulders. “I’ll carry her out to your car.”
Georgeanne thought about his offer for a moment, then decided to let him. “That would be great. I’ll get my
