Текст книги "Major Misconduct"

Dedication

By Kelly Jamieson

About the Author

The Editor’s Corner

Excerpt from Off Limits

Chapter 1

“Oh my God. What have you done now?”

Lovey frowned, her cellphone held to her ear. “What kind of greeting is that?”

Her brother, Duncan, sighed.

Lovey beamed at the taxi driver as he hauled her last suitcase into the condominium lobby on East Monroe Street in the Chicago Loop. She shifted the phone away as she handed him some folded bills so she wasn’t speaking to Duncan. “Thank you so much.”

He smiled back at her. “Sure you don’t want me to help get them up to your condo?”

“No, that’s fine. My brother and his roommate are big strong guys. They’ll help me with things.” She heard a faint snort on the phone. “Thank you again for your help.”

He nodded and chilly air rushed into the lobby as he opened the door and walked out.

“Where are you, Lovey?” Duncan asked.

“I’m standing in your lobby!” She turned a circle in the elegant lobby, taking in the arrangement of modern furniture and huge potted plants, winter sunshine flooding through tall windows. “I’m here to stay with you.”

“Uh…why?”

She briefly bit her bottom lip. “Just felt like coming to see my big brother in the big city.”

Silence. “Lovey…”

“Can you come down and help me with my luggage?”

Another audible exhalation. “I’ll be right down.”

Lovey smiled. “Thanks, Dunc.” She ended the call and dropped her phone into her purse. She grabbed her suitcases, but with her purse over her shoulder, her carry-on balanced precariously on top of one case, and both of the pieces of luggage huge and heavy, she struggled across the pale stone-tiled floor toward the elevators in her high-heeled boots. Then the carry-on slipped, pulling her off balance, tipping the suitcase. She released the other one and fought for control of the weighty beast, purse falling off her shoulder, throwing her even more off balance. “Oh, for the love of cheese.”

Her hair fell across her face and she began to sweat. The sweater and wool pants were appropriate for Chicago in October, but inside the warm lobby, fighting with uncooperative luggage, she was getting hot. Also high-heeled boots were stylish but not exactly helpful when wrestling suitcases.

She was just getting the suitcase righted when the elevator doors slid open. Then her other suitcase topped over with a bang. Duncan strolled out, taking in her flustered state with a long-suffering big-brother look.

Lovey pushed her hair back and straightened, bestowing one of her highest-wattage smiles on her brother. She threw out her arms and rushed at him for a hug. “Hey! So good to see you!”

He hugged her back, then with a shake of his head and a reluctant smile he set her away from him. “Good to see you too, Lovey. Still not sure what the hell you’re doing here…” He surveyed her luggage. “With apparently your entire wardrobe.” He lifted an eyebrow. “But come on up.”

He grabbed her suitcases, including the carry-on, and headed back into the waiting elevator. Lovey slung her purse over her shoulder and tapped along behind him. Easy for him. Big bro was an NHL hockey player—six foot two, two hundred pounds, big muscles everywhere. One corner of her mouth kicked up. There were advantages to having a brother who was big. Really big. And strong.

The doors slid closed and Duncan punched the button for the fourteenth floor.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “Those suitcases weigh a ton.”

“How the hell did you get on the plane with them? And from the airport to here.”

She shrugged. “There were always people around offering to help.”

“Guys.”

She blinked. “Well. Yeah.”

He shook his head, lips twitching.

“What’s with the beard?” She touched her own chin with thumb and forefinger. “You look like a mountain man. I thought you only grew a beard during playoffs.”

He shrugged. “I got tired of shaving.”

“Duncan! Eew. No woman is going to find that attractive.”

“Whatever.”

“And it’s freezing here! Why is it so cold here?”

“It’s forty degrees,” Duncan said dryly. “And probably not much colder than Madison.”

“But it’s windy. It is the Windy City.”

“Chicago is no windier than any other city.”

She frowned. “But it’s called the Windy City.”

“That apparently has to do with the long-windedness of Chicago politicians.”

“Huh.” She tipped her head. “Really? But it is windy today. I’m sure hundred-mile-an-hour winds.”

He grinned. “Yeah, Lovey, it’s windy.”

The doors opened and he let her exit first, but she paused, unsure which way to go. It was the first time she’d visited him since he’d bought this super lux condo that had to have cost a gazillion dollars. Nice to have that kind of money.

She’d felt a few twinges of guilt about arriving unannounced to stay with him, but she kept reminding herself his condo was huge. He did have a roommate, but still, there were three bedrooms, so she wouldn’t be putting anyone out. She’d be sure to stay out of their way. Not interfere with their game day routines. She’d clean up after herself.

He led them into his condo and she swept her gaze around, taking it all in.

“This is gorgeous! Holy cheese-its, Dunc!”

He grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

Wide-plank hardwood floors stained a dark chocolate color stretched all through the unit. Big windows let in bright golden sunshine. She lifted an eyebrow at the exercise equipment in the dining room instead of a table and chairs. Two big brown leather couches and a couple of oversized chairs were centered on a patterned rug in the living room, a big square table in the middle.

She walked through and turned to the kitchen. Creamy cupboards and granite countertops formed a U-shape around a substantial island with a couple of stools at the end of it. She blinked at the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles littering the counter, then turned away with a shrug.

“This is amazing.” She shook her head. “How much did you pay for this place? I’m guessing five million.”

He laughed. “Not even close.”

“How much?”

“Not telling you.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“None of your business, li’l sis.” He leaned against the island and crossed his arms. “Now tell me what you’re doing here.”

She swallowed her sigh. “I’m moving to Chicago.”

He choked. “What?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I decided there’s not enough for me in Madison. I’m moving here. I want to live in a big city. There are more career opportunities.”

“Did you get fired again?”

“No!” She frowned. “No, I did not.”

He waited.

She pursed her lips. “I quit.”

He shook his head. “Why, Lovey? I thought it was a great job.”

“It was okay.”

“Then why did you quit?”

She avoided his eyes and wandered back into the living room. “It wasn’t my dream job.”

He snorted and followed her. “Dream job?”

She whirled around. “You have your dream job! Why shouldn’t I?”

She knew he wouldn’t understand. Growing up, everyone had known he was going to make it big. His hockey talent had been evident from an early age, and their parents had dedicated their lives to helping him achieve his dreams.

Lovey, on the other hand, hadn’t even had a dream.

She’d never begrudged Duncan his success. She was proud of her brother. He’d worked hard his whole life to achieve what he had and he totally deserved it. But there had been times she’d wished she had some kind of super talent that would make everyone proud of her.

“You’re giving me the gears before I’m barely in the door. Not cool, Dunc.”

His lips quirked as if he was repressing another smile. He gestured to one of the brown leather couches. “Sit down.”

She sank into the couch and crossed her legs.

Duncan sat across from her. “You don’t quit a perfectly good job just because it’s not your dream job, Lovey. If you don’t like it, you look around for something else and then you quit.”

“Not if you’re moving to Chicago. I had to quit so I could move here. I’ll find something here, I’m sure.”

Duncan thought she was a flighty, impetuous screwup who’d quit a good job and moved to another state on a whim. And she wasn’t about to set him straight on that, because…it was true.

Well, to a certain extent it was true. But she didn’t want to tell him about her goals and dreams because…because she wasn’t entirely sure she could do this…and she didn’t want him saying “I told you so” if she failed.

She pushed down her misgivings and smiled at him. “I just need a place to stay for a while.”

“You can’t stay here.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What? Why not? You’ve got tons of room! Look at this place.” She sat up straight and swept an arm out. “Fifty billion square feet, probably ten bathrooms…”

“Two and a half,” he corrected. “And three bedrooms. And it’s only two thousand square feet. Not fifty billion,” he added in a muttered tone.

“Only two thousand. As if one guy needs that much space.”

“I have a roommate,” he reminded her. “Two of the three bedrooms are occupied and the third has no furniture.”

She frowned and sank back into the couch. “Oh. Well. That doesn’t matter. I’ll just sleep on the floor until we can get me a bed.”

“We’re not getting you a bed.”

“Hey, Army, what time are we heading out?” a deep male voice interrupted them. “Oh. Hey.”

Lovey’s head snapped around at the unfamiliar voice and then her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped.

The guy standing across the room wore a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else. Sweet cheese-its, he was hot. Even more muscular than Duncan, he was about the same height. Short brown hair stood in messy spikes on top, and the same golden-brown stubble lay over his chiseled jaw and upper lip. His lips were thinnish but nicely shaped, his eyes a beautiful sky blue color she could see from here, framed with thick eyelashes.

Her gaze tracked over bulky shoulders and arms, a chest that was slabs of muscle and smooth golden skin, a freakin’ eight-pack of abs that literally made her want to drool, then down over the blue boxer shorts sitting low on lean hips, to his bare legs. She blinked at the size of his thighs and the delineation of the massive muscles bulging above his knees. His calves were also strong, covered with more dark gold hair. His long, sinewy bare feet stood on the bare wood floor.

She lifted her gaze back up to his face and smiled. “Hi.”

He blinked, his expression not changing. “Uh. Hi.” He glanced at Duncan. “Sorry, man, didn’t know you had someone here.” He took a step back.

“Dude, go put some clothes on. This is my little sister.”

The guy’s eyes flickered. “Oh. Shit. Be right back.”

“Wait!” Lovey rose and legged it across the carpet in her heels, hand outstretched. “I’m Lovey. It’s nice to meet you; you must be Duncan’s roommate. Marc, right?”

He took another step back but she kept going. He shoved a hand out, maybe to stop her. She grabbed it to shake it.

“Yeah. Marc.”

The faint inflection in the way he said it was…sexy. “You’re French.” Her smile broadened.

“Yeah.” He gave her a quick handshake, then released her hand and took two more steps away. “Marc Dupuis. I’ll, uh, be back.”

He disappeared down the hall and she admired the back view. Whoa. Wide at the shoulders, muscled back, deep grooves down the middle that disappeared into the low waistband of the boxers, which did not hide a very firm ass. She gave a sigh of pleasure.

“Lovey.”

She blinked and turned to look at her brother.

“That’s why you can’t stay here. This is a bachelor home. You can’t live here with two guys.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

His eyebrows flew up. “We walk around half-dressed sometimes. We don’t want to have to be worried about covering up.”

She grinned. “Don’t worry on my account. You…phht.” She waved a hand and rolled her eyes. “He can walk around naked anytime he wants.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Duncan rubbed his face. “We drink beer. We make a mess. Well, I do,” he amended. “We party. Lotta the other guys hang out here too.”

She shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m not used to your friends hanging out.” He’d played hockey all through high school—well, all his life, basically—and there’d always been a bunch of guys crowding up their Columbia County dairy farmhouse.

“We have girls over.” He gave her a meaningful look.

She laughed, flopping down on the couch again. “I should hope so.”

“You’re not going to be comfortable here.”

She looked around. “I think I could be very comfortable here.” She gave a nod. “This is a gorgeous place to live. Nice view too.” In the distance Lake Michigan was a haze of blue.

“Fuck,” Duncan muttered.

Marc reappeared, now fully dressed, sadly. Although with clothes on he still looked amazeballs hot. “Sorry about that. Didn’t know you were here, uh, Lovey.”

She beamed at him. “No problem. Duncan was more freaked-out than I was.”

Duncan rolled his eyes.

Lovey studied Marc in his clothes—low-rise faded jeans that had to be specially made to fit loosely over those massive thighs, and a long-sleeve black T-shirt. She let out another brief sigh.

He moved to perch on one of the stools at the big island, then stopped as he took in the mess in the kitchen. With a head shake, he began to clean up, tossing cold pizza into the trash, loading empty beer bottles into cartons. “This place is gross.”

Duncan shrugged and leaned back. “You knew that when you moved in. Don’t get all pissy. You don’t have to clean up.”

“I know, I know.” Marc stacked empty pizza boxes into a blue recycling box. “Just can’t stand the fucking mess.”

Duncan grinned. “That’s your problem.”

Lovey looked back and forth between them. Duncan was a slob, no doubt about it. Mom had pulled her hair out trying to teach him to clean up after himself. Apparently none of it had sunk in. Marc, on the other hand…seemed to have learned well. Or maybe he was a neat freak.

Nothing wrong with that. Not at all.

Especially when he looked that good while cleaning up.

“Okay, back to the topic at hand,” Duncan said. “You can’t stay here.”

Still watching Marc, Lovey saw his head snap up.

“I have to stay here, Dunc. Where else am I going to go?”

He cursed under his breath. “But I told you, there’s nowhere for you to sleep.”

“Uh…she can have my bed,” Marc offered.

Lovey beamed at him. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“She can’t have your fucking bed,” Duncan snapped. “Where the hell are you going to sleep?”

Marc shrugged. “Couch?”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Duncan gave a gusty sigh. “One night. One night only. After that, you have to stay in a hotel or something, Lovey.”

“I can’t afford a hotel!” She gaped at him. “D’you think my last job paid me multi-millions of dollars like yours does?”

“Quit throwing my money in my face.” He slumped into the couch with a scowl.

“I’m not throwing it in your face.” She blinked. “I’m just pointing out what should be obvious…my marketing job for Kleinheinz Cheese did not pay enough for me to be able to afford to stay in a pricey Chicago hotel indefinitely.”

“You have enough to rent an apartment, don’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Um…I have a little money. I sold my car.”

“Lovey…”

“Duncan.”

They glared at each other in one of their famous sibling standoffs. She lifted her chin.

As usual, she won.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Stay here until you get on your feet. But it better not be long. And you better not be in our way.”

“Thanks, Dunc.” She smiled. “I promise I won’t be. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Why do I doubt that?” Duncan shook his head.

She looked over at Marc and saw he was grinning at the counter he was wiping.

Cheese whiz, he was gorgeous! Even more so when he smiled. Earlier he’d been so straight-faced and serious. A little curl of lust warmed her inside.

“We need to get going.” Marc looked at her brother, the grin now absent. “Gotta get to the dealership.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Duncan gave her a narrow-eyed look as he rose from the couch. “I’m buying a new vehicle. Gotta go sign the papers and pick it up.”

“Oooh. What kind?”

“Land Rover.”

“Duncan! You can’t drive a truck in Chicago!”

“It’s not a truck, for fuck’s sake.”

She made a face. “If you say so. I’ll unpack and get settled in. Hey, could you pick me up a bed on your way home?” He bugged his eyes out at her and she laughed. “Kidding! We can do that tomorrow.”

“What about the stuff from your apartment in Madison? Where’s that?”

“Storage. I’ll get it shipped here when I find my own place.”

“You mean you actually do intend to find your own place?”

“Uh…yeah.” She gave him a “duh” look. “I can’t stay with you forever. Although, I could get some of the stuff shipped here…my bedroom set. And…” She glanced at his dining room full of weights. “You could use a dining table and chairs.”

“Fuck no. I mean…I’ll help you find a nice apartment.”

“Sure. As long as you don’t mind sleeping on the couch until I do.”

He groaned and she heard a laugh from the kitchen. She looked back at Marc and their eyes met. His gleamed with mirth and she felt that little kick of lust again.

He grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Army taken out so easily. This is hilarious.”

Duncan scowled. “Shut the fuck up, Duper.”

Her eyes met Marc’s and held again and she grinned back at him, trying (but failing) to ignore the flip of lust and attraction low in her belly. He looked at her long enough that she knew he felt it too.

Well, she certainly hadn’t anticipated something like this. She’d come to Chicago to move on with her life. Things with Richard had gotten serious enough that she’d been scared spitless; scared enough to break up with him, quit her job, pack up all her belongings, and run. She had a plan, figured there’d be lots of opportunities in Chicago, and was going to get right on that, first thing Monday morning. She hadn’t planned on living with a hot hockey player with a body that could turn a girl to a puddle of lust…but this was going to be fun!

Chapter 2

Marc chuckled all the way to the Land Rover dealership, annoying the hell out of his teammate and roommate.

“What the fuck is so amusing?” Army snarled.

“If she wasn’t your sister, I’d call you pussy-whipped.”

“Fuck off.”

Marc laughed outright. “Just never seen you so outclassed, dude.”

“Whatever.”

Marc smirked.

“What am I supposed to do?” Army demanded. “Turn her out onto the streets of Chicago?”

“Of course not. And she knew that.”

“She didn’t even tell me she was coming.” Duncan rubbed his forehead. “Christ. She quit her job. Just when she seemed to be settling down. Last I heard, she had a pretty serious boyfriend too. Guess that’s over.”

A boyfriend? Not fucking likely, the way she’d been looking at him. Marc shot Army a sideways glance as he drove. “She does this often?”

“Eh. She quits. She gets fired. She flits from one job to another like a fucking hummingbird. One boyfriend to another. This guy she was seeing actually lasted more than a few dates. Now all of a sudden she wants to move to Chicago. Jesus.”

“She’s young.”

“She’s not that young. She’s twenty-four. Only three years younger than us. She needs to settle down.”

Marc nodded. “Yeah, but think, man, we were on our own when we were teenagers, basically. We were playing and living in an adult world before we could even drink legally. Pro hockey makes you grow up fast.”

Army sighed. “Yeah. True. Heh. Especially you, Captain Codger.”

Marc rolled his eyes at the nickname. It didn’t bug him as much as it had at first. He knew the guys liked to jerk him around, but they did it with respect. And he’d earned the reputation of being serious and responsible, on the ice and off. That was him, and it was important to him to take his career and his responsibilities seriously.

Army shook his head. “I’ll let her stay for a while, but seriously, she’ll have to find her own place. Don’t worry.”

Marc shrugged. “I wasn’t worried.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Army’s little sister was smokin’ hot. At first Marc had thought his roommate had a hot chick visiting him and he’d been all Whoa, way to go, dude, but when he’d learned she was Army’s sister, he’d backpedaled fast. He couldn’t get out of there before she’d jumped up and rushed at him with a fucking dazzling smile, so goddamn gorgeous he couldn’t get his feet to move and could barely string two words together. Her smile was luminous, all white teeth and dimples and glowing face. Long, wavy red-gold hair gleamed in the sunlight and, fuck him, even though she’d been wearing clothes that covered her from chin to toes, her body was stellar—a soft blue sweater outlined high, firm tits and a small waist that curved into round hips. He couldn’t see her legs, but they were long, her snug black pants revealing slender thighs.

Shut it down, man.

She was Army’s sister and therefore waaaay the fuck off-limits.

And that was why he was maybe a little worried about her living with them. Just a smidgen worried. But hey. He was Captain Codger. He had no issues with self-control, self-discipline, or being responsible. He could easily ignore a hot babe living in the apartment with them. No problem. No problem at all.

Army’s phone pinged and he peered at the screen. “Great. An email from my mom warning me Lovey’s on her way. Thanks, Mom.” He shook his head as he tapped a reply. “She wants me to make sure Lovey’s okay in the big city. Jesus.”

Yeah, Lovey seemed like she was going to be okay.

They arrived at the dealership and while Army signed the paperwork, Marc wandered around looking at the vehicles, trying to ignore the attention from the staff, male and female. The receptionist approached him for an autograph.

“You’re my favorite player.” She let out a breathy laugh. “I watch all the games.”

“Yeah?” He obliged by scrawling his messy signature across the Land Rover pamphlet she held out, adding his jersey number beneath it. “You watch that last game against Philly?”

“Of course! You guys played great.”

He stuck his tongue into one cheek and nodded. “Thanks.” They’d sucked. They’d lost three-one, probably their worst game so far, another game added to their losing streak.

“D’you speak French?” Her eyes widened.

“Mais oui.” He grinned.

“That is soooo sexy.” She stared at him.

Câlisse. He resisted the urge to sigh and smiled instead. “Merci.”

“I love your accent.”

He wanted to frown. He barely had an accent. He’d been raised by a Francophone mother and Anglophone father, and although his education had been all in French growing up in Quebec, he spoke both languages fluently. Maybe there was a bit of an accent. Whatever.

“Hey, Armdog,” he called to his friend. “I’m gonna head out. Meet you at the Sin Bin?”

“Yeah. Be there soon.”

The Sin Bin was a restaurant/bar owned by one of their teammates, Jared Rupp. They often hung out there with other Aces players. Friday night, no game, afternoon practice, they’d all planned to head there for food and drinks. Army would meet him there, driving in his sweet new ride.

Marc had to smile at Army’s choice. You could take the boy out of the farm, but you couldn’t take the farm out of the boy. Army had grown up on a dairy farm in the heart of Wisconsin, feeding and milking cows. He was a total redneck, wearing a camo baseball cap backward, dressed in faded jeans and boots, and had recently grown a heavy beard. He liked to fish and hunt and spend time in the great outdoors, and living in Chicago had driven him nuts at first. Even now, he still got antsy surrounded by skyscrapers and concrete and glittery lights.

Apparently Lovey Armstrong had grown up on the same dairy farm. You’d never know it to look at her, though. Other than the sprinkle of faint freckles over her nose and cheeks, she looked all city girl, with bright hair parted in the middle and curling over her shoulders, shiny lips, and stylish clothes, including sexy high-heeled boots…yeah, she was no redneck. Or whatever the female term for redneck was. Wasn’t there a song about a redneck woman…Whatever. That was clearly not her.

Marc headed downtown, where Rupper’s restaurant was located. The place was super popular, especially since the Aces had won the Stanley Cup two years ago. Lots of puck bunnies hoping to run into hockey players. Nothing wrong with that. More important, the food was fantastic and it was a fun place, so it wasn’t just people hanging out to meet hockey players, it was actually a well-respected Chicago restaurant.

He walked into the Sin Bin and turned left to enter the bar, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck. Voices filled the room along with a tune by Imagine Dragons. Marc’s eyes swept the room and spotted teammate and owner of the bar Jared Rupp, aka the Ruppinator. Or just Rupper. Or GQ, since he was always all duded up.

Rupper stood at a tall table where four women sat on stools. They were all gazing raptly at him as he talked, and as Marc approached the table, he caught smiles, a lot of hair flipping, and then laughter. Rupper was such a womanizer.

Rupper flashed a smile, then spotted Marc as he neared the table. “Dupe! Get over here, man.”

All four female heads swiveled to look at him and four flirty smiles beamed at him in recognition. He grinned in return. “Hey, Rupper.”

All the women were pretty, dressed professionally, apparently there for happy hour after work.

“Marc Dupuis.” A sophisticated blonde spoke up in a husky voice. “Team captain. Nice to meet you. I’m Angel.” She extended a hand and Marc found himself shaking hands with a beautiful woman for the second time that day, and then three more times as each of Angel’s friends introduced themselves.

“I was just telling them about that time Pilker and Hughie ordered breakfast for me and Stoykers on a road trip.” Rupper grinned.

Marc gave a brief eye roll. “Kids these days.” They’d arrived at the hotel in New York at two in the morning, and Pilker and Hughie had filled out a room service card requesting breakfast, enough for ten guys—eggs, three kinds of juice, sausages, bacon, cereal, fruit—to be served in the room at six a.m.—and hung the card on Rupper and goalie Brent Stoyko’s door. They’d been so pissed to be woken up that early, when they didn’t have a meeting until eleven, not to mention they had to foot the bill for the entire breakfast feast.

Marc had never been big into the jokes and pranks some of the other guys pulled. Unfortunately that often meant he was the victim of such pranks, like the nearly-cut-through skate laces that snapped when he yanked on them, or the cup of water in the shin pads on the upper shelf in his locker that hit him in the face when he pulled his shin pads down. Har. At least he’d never been rolled up in a mattress, duct-taped, and sent to the lobby in the hotel elevator like Benny.

“Where’s Army?” Rupper asked.

“Left him at the dealership. He should be here any minute.” He explained to the women, “Duncan Armstrong. He just bought a new vehicle.”

“Need a beer?” Rupper asked. “Whatcha want? Moens lager? Or Pale Ale?”

“Pale Ale.”

Rupper left to get it. Moens Breweries was part owner and sponsor of the Chicago Aces. Nobody’d ever told them they had to drink Moens beer but it was pretty much understood. Good thing he liked it.

He chatted with the four women. Rupper returned with his beer and rejoined them, and it wasn’t long before Army arrived, followed by Aces goaltender Brent Stoyko and their newest team member, Andrew Ross, who’d been traded to them from the LA Kings at the end of last season. They pulled over another table and more stools. Marc found himself beside Angel, who engaged him in a side conversation about his hockey background.

She gave him a flirty look. “So are you seeing anyone right now?”

“Nope.” He took a pull of his beer. Since Marissa had dumped his ass six months ago, he was single and free, free to flirt and pick up chicks and bang their brains out for one night. Eh. Too bad that wasn’t really his style.

The truth was, he’d been pretty settled down with Marissa. They’d been together three years, and lived together for nearly two of those. He’d been thinking about asking her to marry him. And then, wham, she’d cut him loose, because he wasn’t romantic enough, for Chrissakes, and he still felt kind of…adrift. Or something.

“I’m single too.” Angel smiled.

He studied her, with her sleek hair and perfect makeup. He wasn’t gonna lie, he’d had some hookups, trying to forget Marissa, or sometimes just because he was horny.

He drank more beer. What the hell. Maybe this was one of those nights. He could take Angel to his place—his mind screeched to a halt, remembering the woman staying there.

Crap.

He focused his attention back on Angel and their conversation. She was coming on strong now, and he knew he could have her in his bed no problem…Wait.

Was he supposed to be sleeping on the couch?

No, Army’d said he would sleep on the couch. Okay, this could still work…

And then a soft lilting voice said from behind him, “Hi, guys!”

He turned to see the source of his distraction—Lovey Armstrong. She beamed that radiant smile, standing there in a bright red jacket, her purse over her shoulder. Her eyes shifted to Angel beside him, very close beside him, leaning in so her breasts almost brushed his arm, and Lovey’s eyes flickered, but the smile remained in full force.