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She bats thick lashes at me and smirks. “Yes, Luc Le Blanche, star defenseman for the New York Hawks. I read that you’ve been playing hockey since you could walk, and they call you the Dragon on the ice because nothing gets past you.”
“Yeah, that’s about right.” I nod with surety.
“I bet you think it’s weird I didn’t know who you were, given my father owns the team.”
“As far as mysteries go that was definitely an enigma, but stranger things have happened.” I grin back at her. “My guess was that you don’t follow the sport.”
“Not even a little bit,” she confesses. “It’s different now that my father owns the team, but prior to that I had no cause to keep up with hockey.”
“That makes sense.”
“I’m also more into writing. At theChronicleI write for the current affairs and lifestyle sections.”
“So definitely not hockey at all,” I joke, then savor her smile when she offers it to me.
“Nope. Not hockey.” She brings her hands together briefly, then allows them to fall to her sides. “It will be nice to see you play. I’ll be at the game tonight and most of the others, too.”
May God help me to focus.
“That’s great.”
We say nothing for a few seconds, but it’s enough to allow that awkward silence to drift in and highlight the discomfort of all the things we haven’t spoken about yet.
She gives me a soulful look as the air continues to shift between us, and I’m keen to know what she’ll say next.
“I… was going to find you at the fundraiser. I wanted to. I really did, but, um…” Her voice trails off.
Since I have a good idea of what happened I decide to help her out. “Your father stopped you.”
Her gaze intensifies and bores into me, silently exploring my words as if she could dissect the layers of their meaning without asking more questions and getting answers she knows will hurt her.
She must already have guessed that I’d only know her father stopped her if he stopped me too.
“He did,” she answers with visible unease, her words carrying tangible discomfort. “Neither of my parents know I went to Vegas, or that I met you there.”
“I thought so, so I won’t be saying anything. As far as your father knows I met you at the fundraiser.”
“But he said something to you?” Her jaw tightens with annoyance.
“Yes.” A teasing smile dances on my lips. “I got the stay-away-from-my-daughter warning.”
Mortification colors her face. “I’m so sorry. My father isn’t the easiest person to get along with.”
“Don’t I know it.” I grin slyly. “What did he say about me?”
She pauses for a moment and it’s clear she’s thinking of the nicest way to tell me her father thinks I’m an asshole.
“He said you were trouble. Are… you?” The captivating hue of her eyes deepens, still searching. This time it’s like she’s trying to find something inside me to prove her father wrong. But she won’t find it. There’s nothing there.
I lean closer, inhaling her magnolia scent as I take pleasure in watching the pulse leap in her slender neck. “Yes.” I keep my voice deep and purposeful.
I half expect her to look disappointed, but she doesn’t. In fact, it seems that my confession without any attempt to deny the accusation interests her more.
Her eyes draw me in with an irresistible force, and my gaze lingers on hers.
Our sudden closeness awakens the magnetic pull between us that neither of us can deny. My mind paints an array of dirty scenarios I want to do to her, wilder than anything I’ve experienced before but want with her.
I can’t help it. I reach out and brush the underside of her jaw, wishing I could do more.
