Page 17 of He Has Charm

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When we get back to the hotel, Harper announces that she’s tired and says good night.

“Thanks for sticking up for my less than perfect character tonight.”

“Don’t make me regret it. Besides,” she gives me a conspiratorial look, “I’ll only be living with you on an as-needed basis. I’ll pop in on occasion. I’ll be like your roommate with a boyfriend across town. I’m sure you can handle an occasional night with me under the same roof without caving to temptation, Knight.”

“Sure, but the question is, can you?”

“I’m not tempted by you in the least.” She rises to my bait.

“I meant, it’s your job to be my handler. If you’re only here on occasion aren’t you worried I’ll have an orgy when you’re gone?” I smirk because joking is my only defense when I’m wondering about my poor dick’s survival. She rolls her eyes, but I see the twitch of uncertainty. Then I have to ask, “Is that where you’ll be staying? With a boyfriend across town?” My gut clenches because it’s one of those questions I don’t really want to know the answer to, but I need to know.

“No. Not that it’s any of your business.” She picks up a pillow from the couch as she walks by and throws it at my head. I duck, but she has good aim. “But you’re right.” She bites her lip and I suppress a groan at the surge in dickish interest. But it’s not my dick’s fault if I’ve trained it to have expectations at the end of a night out. Though, not counting my birthday a couple of weeks ago, it’s been a while.

“Glad you agree, but I was kidding.”

“This is no joking matter,” she says, an inner struggle clearer on her face than if she had good and bad angels sitting on her opposite shoulders shouting at each other. “I’m committed to watching you—whether you need it or not. Jett made it clear. As much as I’d rather stay with my friend,” she heaves in a big breath, “I can’t. Damn it.”

I laugh and throw the pillow back at her.

“You’re quick,” she says. “You ever think of becoming a professional athlete?”

I do a shit job of repressing my grin and she tosses the pillow back at me, hitting me in the shoulder this time, because she was quick enough so that I couldn’t dodge it.

“This should be fun, St. John.” I force myself to call her St. John because I need to stop thinking of her as sugar buns and make sure I never utter that name—my personal name for her now etched in my head forever—out loud again.

Five

Harper

After a night of tossing and turning to X-rated dreams featuring the sex-video version of Knight where I’m his costar, I peel myself from bed and wonder how I’m going to look him in the eye without feeling a clench in my pussy. Since when did I become a sex maniac?

Since I’ve been sex deprived for almost a year and had a sexy hockey hunk dropped into the bedroom next to mine with a giant Do Not Touch banner splashed across his mouthwatering pecs. Nothing like off-limits temptation to inspire the imagination. And boy do I have one. So vivid I’m not sure I can face myself in the mirror, let alone Maddox.

But there’s only one way to get my family out of the mess my dad left us in, and that’s to suck it up and earn the bonus Ham promised me if—no when—Maddox finishes out the season with the Brawlers, and without incident. No trouble means big bucks.

Sex with Maddox—I can feel my temperature go up at the thought—means big trouble and possibly losing my job. Bigger trouble. So, yes. I can face him. I’m tough and this is a job. Once I’m dressed in my business suit, I fling open the door and step into our shared living space. But he’s not there. I check my watch—one of those multipurpose gadgets Jett bought for all the agents and my favorite self-indulgence next to my shoes—the ones I ruined—and I see it’s still early so I don’t panic.

When Knight emerges from his room a second later, shirtless, his hair still wet and tousled, his blue eyes bright like an irresistible beacon, I seize up for an instant. Shit. Poise. Business. All business. Picture him covered in the pages of his lucrative contract.

“You’re up early,” he says, smiling like nothing’s amiss. Because nothing is amiss, Harper. He doesn’t know you had dreams about him that make it a miracle your bed didn’t go up in flames.

“Practice is in thirty minutes. Are you ready?”

“You’re coming to the morning skate? What the hell for?”

“I’m to deliver you to the coach and pick you up. I’m your escort and warden whenever you’re not with Coach Green and the team. He’s in charge of you for games, practices and on road trips. That’s the deal.”

“Fuck, that’s crazy. Don’t you have a life of your own?”

“This is it, Knight. Babysitting you is my life for the duration.”

“That’s just wrong.” He rakes his fingers through his hair then grabs his jacket. “It’s not like I’m going to go off the rails at seven in the morning. Not unless you consider stopping for coffee in the lobby dangerous living.”

“It’s all about keeping the Brawlers’ management happy, giving them a measure of confidence.” He levels those blue eyes on me, telling me without words that I’m being an ass and that he doesn’t actually deserve it. Or at least that’s what my conscience is telling me. “Look, I’m sure things will ease up after a few weeks and you start fitting in. Score a few winning goals without any drunken orgies and I’ll see if I can leave you in peace, go back to New York City.” In the meantime, I don’t dare share my secret strategy about escaping to my friend Shelly’s place when I feel myself slipping. That’s the best way to keep from getting either of us into trouble, because I’m coming to realize there’s more danger in our proximity melting down my walls of resistance than of him going off the rails with a puck bunny.

He’s silent, so I hold up my paper cup. “Want some coffee?”