Текст книги "Major Misconduct"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Marc resisted the urge to duck for cover and waved as everyone applauded. Including Lovey, right next to him, looking at him. He glanced at her and saw the warmth in her eyes and her smile. He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

Students took groups on tours and showed off the new features—the new gym, a commercial-grade kitchen, an area for aesthetics like hairdressing and manicures, and a recording studio. Marc knew some of the kids giving the tours, and the pride on their faces as they showed off their new school made his gut warm. This was what it was all about.

He’d been lucky as a kid. His family wasn’t rich, but had had enough to be able to support his hockey dreams, and he’d had a caring family who’d been strict enough to make sure he knew boundaries, yet trusting enough to let him push those boundaries. When he saw kids who didn’t have those things, who had no one to set limits for them and got out of control, who didn’t have the resources to give them opportunities, he wanted so bad to do something. Now he had the money to do that and he enjoyed giving others the chances he’d had.

Lovey took in the tour with wide, interested eyes, asking questions and even joking with the teenagers. She seemed really cool with it all and he liked that.

He liked that a lot.

They schmoozed with city and Aces bigwigs. When he introduced her to Mick Rooney, one of the owners of the Aces, Mick picked up on her name right away. “Armstrong?”

She grinned. “Yeah. My brother plays for your team. Sometimes.”

Mick laughed. “Yeah.” There were no questioning or knowing looks, just class. “It’s really good to meet you, Lovey.”

Colby, the senior director of Communications for the Aces, joined them. Lovey instantly started chatting with him about communications, since visual communications and marketing were her background.

“Lovey’s going to help me with my social media stuff,” Marc told Colby and Mr. Rooney. “So I don’t screw up on Twitter.”

Colby grinned. “Great idea.”

This seemed to pique Mr. Rooney’s interest and he started asking Lovey more questions about her business and the clients she was acquiring.

They chatted and mingled more, and then people started leaving and Marc felt comfortable setting a hand on the small of Lovey’s back and leading her out.

“That was really cool.” She leaned her head back into the headrest on their way home. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re a pretty impressive guy.”

His head jerked around, then looked back at the road. “Uh. Thanks.”

“Seeing you like that, with all those important people, being all professional and charming…seeing all those kids who worship you, kids you obviously influence…and the money you’ve helped raise…” She paused and gave him a pointed look. “Or probably the money you’ve simply given them…?”

He shrugged.

She laughed softly. “Yeah. I thought so. Anyway…all that just makes me want to jump you and fuck your brains out.”

His insides gave a hot squeeze, right to his dick, and he choked on a laugh. “Uh. Thanks.” Wow. Was that what it took to turn her on? Who knew. “Can’t wait to get home,” he managed to say.

Only when they walked in, Army was there.

He looked up at them with a frown. “Where were you two?”

“At the grand opening of Fowler High School.”

“Huh.” Duncan looked at Lovey. “You went?”

“Yeah.” She kept her voice casual as she took off her coat. “I was sitting here bored so I asked if I could tag along. It was cool. Oleg and Olaf were there too.”

She sat on the couch and bent to unzip the tall boots she was wearing, then pulled them off and wiggled her toes on the carpet. “Ah, this feels good. That was a lot of standing and walking in these heels.”

“Guess I’m off to bed.” Marc tried not to reveal his reluctance to go there alone. “We’re leaving early in the morning for Miami.”

“Yeah, true.”

Marc caught Lovey’s eyes and gave her a “sorry” look. He saw the same emotion in hers.

Shit. This really sucked.

“Actually, I need something to eat.” He moved to the kitchen. Dinner had been a few hours ago. He slapped together a peanut butter and banana sandwich on thick whole grain bread and poured himself a glass of chocolate milk, while Lovey said good night and disappeared into her bedroom, carrying her boots.

She was moving out in a little over a month. She’d have a place of her own. He had to admit the idea of her not being around all the time didn’t exactly appeal to him…but the idea that they could have some privacy sure as hell did.

Of course, there was still the fact that Army didn’t want him touching his little sister. For a moment, Marc debated blurting out a confession to his roommate. Then sanity returned and stopped him. Army would kill him if he told him what they’d been up to.

But it was starting to feel like something was building between him and Lovey, something he didn’t want to stop. How could that happen when they had to sneak around keeping it secret? It made it feel cheap and sleazy, when it wasn’t like that at all.

With that dilemma churning inside him, he drained the milk and went into his own bedroom. Alone. And he was leaving for the next five days. Dammit.

Chapter 18

Lovey made the four-hour bus trip to Madison, where her parents picked her up and drove her to the farm to celebrate Thanksgiving. Friday night they all watched the Aces game against the Tampa Bay Lightning on TV. Andrew Ross was now paired with Ryan Kirby, the guy they’d called up from the farm team. Things seemed to click for them pretty well, with each of them feeding the puck to the forwards, one of them to Marc for the much-needed game-winning goal. Which was good.

But the bad part of the game had been when some asshole from the Lightning decided that rookie Ryan Kirby needed to learn his place and had gone after him with a vicious hit into the boards from behind. Ryan had been slow to rise and the replays had shown him going face-first into the boards. Jesus.

Her insides churning, she’d watched in dismay as he’d finally made it off the ice. She didn’t even know the guy, but she hated to see something like that. The Lightning player got a penalty and the game went on. Until the penalty was over; then the big dude was back on the ice and Marc took it on himself to send a message in return, by slamming the guy into the boards at first opportunity. The glass rattled alarmingly and the Tampa Bay player sagged. Then he spun around and dropped his gloves. Marc didn’t back down, his own mitts hitting the ice, and the two grappled and danced and threw punches.

Lovey swallowed hard, sitting on the edge of the couch, watching with wide eyes.

“Are you okay, Lovey?” Mom eyed her.

“Um, yeah.” Fighting never used to bother her. It was a part of the game. She’d accepted that along with every other part of the game she’d grown up with. But seeing Marc fighting…knowing how dangerous it was, or could be…shit. She did not like this.

Marc wrestled the guy to the ice and took one last hard swing before the linesmen moved in to pull them apart and put an end to the fight. Meanwhile, a couple of other small skirmishes had broken out as players came to the aid of their teammates, one of them Duncan wrestling with some guy who’d tried to grab Marc.

Lovey closed her eyes and did some deep breathing. Finally everyone was separated, gloves and sticks were picked up and returned to their owners, and the refs were working out all the penalties.

“That’ll get him five minutes in the sin bin,” Dad said.

Mom was still watching Lovey with a funny look on her face.

Yeah, Marc ended up with five for fighting. But as the team played with renewed energy, she knew why he’d done it. Five minutes in the box was a small price to pay for getting his team fired up, defending one another, especially the new guy, and backing one another up.

She returned to Chicago on Saturday. Duncan’s cleaning lady had come last week, but Lovey cleaned out the fridge, where some nasty leftovers had accumulated at the back, and set the oven to self-clean. Although calling it self-cleaning was a misnomer, in her opinion. When she’d moved out on her own, she’d thought that meant she didn’t have to do anything, and had been disappointed to know she still had to get down on her hands and knees and stick her head inside to wipe down the ashy residue that remained.

But it had to be done.

She spent the rest of the day working. Sunday, she went to yoga class and had lunch with a girl she’d gotten to know there, and that evening went out for dinner with Jillian, Leigh, and Dior, although she kept checking the score of the game on her phone.

The guys got back early Monday morning, as in one o’clock in the morning, and they were in bed asleep when she got up. She cast one longing look at Marc’s door as she passed by.

Their sex had gotten more frequent, occurring pretty much any time Duncan was out of the apartment and they weren’t. Sometimes it was fast and furtive because he was coming back; other times they had hours to play, then laze around in bed and snuggle and talk.

But Marc had been gone five days and before that it had been…Saturday. More than a week. She sighed.

She had a meeting that morning with one of her new Chicago clients to talk about the campaign she’d developed for them, so she dressed in a suit and heels. It was fun dressing up for a change. Working from home was great, and pajamas and yoga pants were comfy, but it was still nice to wear something pretty and look professional.

She felt like a real businessperson as she headed out, leaving the guys sleeping in the quiet condo.

The meeting went well. They were impressed with her plans, discussing a few minor points. She stopped for a sandwich for lunch at one of the fast food places in Water Tower Place, then rewarded herself for her hard work lately by wandering through some of the shops in the mall. A big sale at Macy’s was very tempting. She found herself in the lingerie department, fingering pretty lace bras.

Marc would like this one. He liked her underwear. A pressing desire to show him something new and sexy rose inside her and she picked up the black lace bra in her size to try on.

Half an hour later, she left the store with not only the bra but the matching panties and a nightie in apricot silk trimmed with heavy ivory lace. She would love to wear that for Marc…somehow she would make it happen.

Maybe she could sneak into his room one night after Duncan was asleep. She wished Marc would sneak into her room…how many nights had she lain there in her bed, wishing for him to appear, trying to reach out to him with the force of her thoughts and will him to come quietly into her room and slide into bed with her.

It hadn’t happened.

But she could make it happen. Maybe. If she had the guts.

Oh hell. She was tired of this. Duncan needed to adjust to the fact that she was an adult woman who could sleep with whoever she wanted.

But again, the only thing that kept her from just telling him was his relationship with Marc.

When she got home, they were both awake. Marc was mixing up a protein shake and Duncan was sprawled on the couch in a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a wrinkled T-shirt. Marc had dressed in loose black athletic pants that sat low on his hips, and a snug white T-shirt that hugged every gorgeous muscle of his upper body.

She wanted to rush him and hug him and kiss him all over and make sure he was okay after that brutal game Friday night. Instead she dropped her shopping bag on the island, set her briefcase and purse on the floor, and casually said, “You’re home. Congrats on the two wins.”

Marc turned to look at her. Ack. He had a bandage on his cheekbone. Her stomach clenched at the thought of him being hurt. Bruising was blooming around the small white plaster. She sucked briefly on her bottom lip to control her emotions. He met her eyes and gave a faint smile. “Thanks.”

As he picked up his shake, she took in the cut and bruising on his hand. Her bottom lip started to push out and she sucked it back in. “Your hand.”

“It’s okay.” He gave a rueful smile. “Should know better than to punch a bucket.”

She had so much she wanted to say to him, questions to ask about how things had gone, the new line, how the team was feeling with Dale gone, how Marc was doing…but it was all weird with Duncan there.

“Shopping?” Duncan called from the couch. “Would it be too much to hope that you went shopping after a job interview? Christ, Lovey. You need to get your shit together.”

She snapped her head around to glare at him. “My shit is together.”

Duncan swung his legs off the couch. “You still don’t have a job. How the hell do you think you’re going to pay the rent of that apartment you signed a lease on? Which you move into in just over a month, by the way.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “How I pay my rent is my business, by the way.”

She snatched up her stuff and stalked into her bedroom.

Shit. Frustration about seeing Marc again and not being able to do and say the things she wanted to, and then Duncan’s annoying comments on top of all that made a hot pressure rise inside her. She threw her stuff on the bed, then closed her eyes and tipped her head back.

She had to tell Duncan about her business. She couldn’t say anything about Marc, but she could at least get her brother off her back about finding a job.

She still had her coat on, so she shed it and left it on the bed. Without changing out of her suit and high-heeled boots, she returned to the open area of the kitchen and living room. She caught Marc’s eye as she approached, reading the concern there. She gave him a crooked smile but turned to focus on Duncan.

She sat on an armchair. He gave her a lifted eyebrow.

“I didn’t have a job interview.” She waved a hand in a downward motion in front of her, ignoring his frustrated grunt. “I’m dressed like this because I had a client meeting. I’ve started my own business.”

Duncan looked at her, then let his head drop to the back of the couch. “Oh my God. What kind of business?”

“Well, there are two things I’m doing. One is my blog.”

His head snapped up, mouth hanging open. “A blog?” Incredulity sharpened his tone. “A blog?”

“Yes. I—”

“You can’t make money from a blog,” he snapped.

“Yes, I—”

“Lovey, come on, get real. You need—”

“Hey,” Marc said in a quiet but firm voice, standing beside Lovey’s chair. “You need to give her a chance to tell you what she’s doing. Shut up and listen, man.”

Lovey’s eyes bugged out as she turned to look at Marc, even though she was grateful for his support.

Duncan frowned. He shot Marc a puzzled look, then turned his gaze back to Lovey. “Fine. Talk.”

She curled her fingers together and sent another quick look of gratitude to Marc. “I do make money from my blog.” She explained what she was doing there and then told him about Big Cheese Media. “I have clients. I was meeting with one of them today to go over the campaign I’ve developed for them. They really like it. I have more things in the works.”

Duncan just stared at her as she talked and she knew it was hard for him to stop himself from jumping in. But Marc stood there, arms folded across his chest, the muscles of his big biceps and chest distractingly emphasized by the snug T-shirt.

Duncan rubbed his face. “Okay,” he said. “That sounds…promising.”

She leaned forward. “I didn’t want to tell you until I knew I was going to make this work. I think it’s going really well, but…there are no guarantees. I know the risks of starting my own business. But it’s what I want to do.”

He now scratched the back of his head. “I thought you quit your job because you broke up with Richard.”

She sensed the tension immediately coming from Marc’s body beside her, without even looking at him. “I did,” she said. “But it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do what I really wanted to do. Since I had to make a change anyway.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. But…”

Her lips tightened. “This is why I didn’t tell you. You’re going to be all ‘Oh, Lovey, you don’t know how to run a business. You’ll never make enough money to live off.’ ”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” But his eyes didn’t meet hers and she knew that was what he was thinking.

“If it doesn’t work, I’ll figure out something else. I’m not worried about getting a job if I have to. I’m good at what I do.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not a mega-superstar pro athlete, and I’ll never make millions of dollars, but I’m good at this.”

More waves of something powered off Marc. She risked a look up at him and saw the warmth in his eyes and the twitch of his lips.

“Okay,” Duncan said. “So…all the time you’re on Facebook and Twitter and I thought you were just screwing around…you were really working.”

“Yes. Well, most of the time.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I do have to spend some personal time on Facebook. And hey, I’m going to give Marc some social media training. So he can optimize his own platform and social media presence.”

“What the fuck?” Duncan stared at Marc. “Seriously?”

“Sure.” Marc grinned. “Don’t worry, man, I’m going to pay her.” He looked down at her. “Whatever the going rate is for the training you do.”

She smiled back at him. “I’m expensive. But worth it.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Oops. That was kind of suggestive and not really appropriate for a conversation in front of Duncan. He didn’t seem to pick up on it, though, still freaking out about her starting her own business. But he was calming down and pondering it. So that was good.

“Okay.” She rose to her feet. “I need to change out of this suit. And I have work to do, you’ll be happy to know, Dunc. See you guys later.” She paused. “What are you doing for dinner tonight? Want me to make something?”

“I’m going out,” Duncan said.

She paused, willing herself not to make eye contact with Marc. “Another date?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact. She’s a model.”

Lovey frowned. “A model? Seriously?”

Duncan’s ears turned red. “What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s probably a puck bunny.” Not another model. Why did he keep dating these women? Sure, they were gorgeous, but damn, they were totally using him. At least she thought they were. Or maybe as his sister, she just didn’t get why they’d want to date Duncan. “But whatever. It’s your life. There. You see what I did there? You live your life. I’ll live mine. And we’ll support each other’s decisions even though we don’t always agree on them. Right?”

He rolled his eyes but smiled. “Shut up.”

“I’m not going out,” Marc put in. “But you don’t need to make anything. We could order pizza or something.”

“Sure. Sounds good.” Keep it light. Keep it casual. As soon as Duncan was out that door, she would be all over Marc. Oooh. Time to put on the new lingerie.

Later, when she’d finished working, she emerged from her room, the black lacy bra and thong panties beneath her low-rise skinny jeans and a blue cotton sweater with a scoop neck, shorter at the front than the back, the sleeves pushed up on her arms. Duncan was ready to go out in a pair of jeans and boots, a plaid shirt, and an Aces baseball cap, standing at the island, where Marc leaned with a beer in his hand.

“I need to do something so he can get to know everyone,” Marc was saying. “Not sure what.”

“No,” Lovey said to Duncan, taking in his outfit. “No, no, no. You’re not going out with a model dressed like that.”

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”

“Lose the ball cap,” she muttered. “And don’t you have some better jeans? Maybe something in a dark wash? That at least would look a little dressier.”

“Hell, I don’t know. Maybe I do. Really?” He looked down at himself. “I need to change?”

“Dark jeans,” she repeated. “And those cowboy boots are expensive but kind of beat up. Maybe you need new ones.”

Duncan grumbled but headed down the hall.

She met Marc’s eyes, gleaming with amusement. “Bossy,” he murmured. “What was that about letting him live his life?”

She bit her lip. “Um. Right. I’m only trying to help! He wants to make a good impression on a date, right?”

“I don’t think he gives a shit. He just wants to get laid.”

“Oh. Ew. Jeez. Whatever.” She paused. “What were you talking about? What do you need to do?”

“Ryan. Our new D man.”

“He and Andrew seemed to play well together.”

“Yeah. Anyway, he doesn’t know any of us very well. Got called up and sent on the road trip, which was good, but I need to do something so he can feel more comfortable with everyone. Actually…” He rubbed his jaw. “It would be good for Rosser to get to know everyone better too. He’s only been with us since training camp.”

“We can have a party.”

Marc blinked at her. “What?”

“We’ll have a party,” she repeated. “Here. Duncan has tons of room. You don’t mind—right, Dunc?” She looked at her brother as he returned in a different pair of jeans. “That’s better.” She nodded approvingly at his choice of denim. “But you should still shave that beard off.”

“Don’t mind what?”

“A party. To help Ryan get to know everyone. We’ll invite the whole team and the wives and girlfriends.”

She knew the wives and girlfriends of the team players, also known as the Aces Ladies, did work as a group with the Aces Community Foundation and organized some social events, but she also knew that as team captain, Marc felt responsible for bringing the team together. He needed a wife.

Whoa.

She shoved that thought quickly away. Not touching that one. No way.

“I don’t mind.” Duncan shrugged. “I’m not much of a party planner. Case of beer and a big bag of chips is the extent of my entertaining skills.”

“I know.” She sighed. “That’s why I’ll do the preparation. It doesn’t have to be fancy, though. I know! We can play that game I got! Cards Against Humanity. It’ll be hilarious and a good way to get everyone interacting.”

“How about Sunday night?” Duncan said.

“Awesome. You guys invite everyone, I’ll do the work.”

“You don’t have to do it all, Lovey,” Marc objected. “We’ll help.”

“Speak for yourself,” Duncan muttered. “I’m outta here. See you later.”

They watched him leave. The door closed. They gave it one…two…three seconds. And she was in his arms, his mouth hard and warm on hers. She pressed up against him with urgent, desperate need, threading her fingers through his hair, opening her mouth to him.

“Forget pizza,” Marc gasped. “Just want to fuck you.”

“Oh God, me too. Do it.”

Once again he hoisted her up, hands on her ass, and carried her down the hall.