“Stop.”
In the elegant lobby, all marble and glass and brass, she planted her feet in her high-heeled boots and didn’t move.
“What’s wrong?”
She threw out a hand. “This. This is what’s wrong. Look at this place. There are reporters following you around. Paparazzi, for god’s sake.”
“Uh…”
With his lips parted, thick brows drawn down and that butterfly bandage still on his forehead, he looked adorably confused.
“This is just one more reason why I should not be doing this.”
“What is? Why? What are you talking about?”
“Your life. It’s…crazy. It’s…I don’t even know. This is just so not me, Jason.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, heavy and warm even through her coat. “Remi. It’s not that big a deal. I just rent this apartment. It’s close to the arena.”
“Phhhhht.” She couldn’t even guess how much an apartment like this cost, but it was probably close to her whole month’s paycheck.
“And the reporters…well…you get used to it. It’s kinda cool. They don’t stalk me like I’m Britney Spears or anything. Just once in a while.”
She shook her head. Once in a while! She couldn’t even imagine that.
“Come on, Remi. Lighten up. It’s fun. Right?”
The curve of his lips, the appeal in his dark chocolate eyes, made her soften inside.
“Fun.”
“Yeah.” He stroked her cheek. “We’re just having fun. So some reporters want to take our picture? Why not? You’re gorgeous.”
“No, I’m not.” Not like a model. Those must have been some good shots when he’d been dating Brianne. She pictured the two of them stopping and posing for photographers. She sighed. That was so not her. Her stomach quivered inside. Oh hell.
“You are.” He touched her hair. “It’s not a big deal, sweetheart. We just ignore them.”
“I just feel…like I’m way out of my depth here.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re so short.” He grinned and swung her up in his arms. She squealed and grabbed for him. “Even in those hawt do-me boots with killer heels.”
He carried her across the floor to the elevators.
“Put me down!” she hissed, her words and Jason’s footsteps echoing in the lobby. “Seriously, Jason!”
His smile faded when he saw the look on her face and he halted and let her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor.
“I can’t do this,” she said, pushing away from him. She took a couple of steps back, clutched her purse to her chest. “Paparazzi, for god’s sake.” She shook her head, her chest tight with disappointment. This was insane. She could not go around having photographers stalking her and taking her picture. She peeked up at Jason through her eyelashes, her eyes prickling a little. “Could you take me home?”
He stood there gazing at her. “I don’t want to.” He shoved a hand into his hair.
And she didn’t want to go. They’d been having so much fun and she’d been all warm and tingly and looking forward to…oh, hell. She turned away from the look in his eyes. This was so not her world. Her lips wanted to pout with regret and she dragged in a long shaky breath. She waited.
Finally, with a noise of frustration, he stabbed the button of the elevator. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll drive you home.” With hunched shoulders, he stood there, waiting for the elevator car to arrive. Then they got in, the doors slid closed and dense silence surrounded them. Her eyes burning even more, her throat tight, Remi looked down at the pointy toes of her boots and licked her lips.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out when the doors opened onto the parking garage.
He gave a jerky nod and strode toward his vehicle, his long legs leaving her behind. She hurried after him, her high-heeled boots clicking on the concrete floor.
“So,” he said after they’d climbed in and he’d started the vehicle. He clenched the steering wheel. “What does this mean?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“‘Cause I can’t control the media,” he said, staring straight ahead. “We can try to avoid them, but they’re always going to be there.”
“I know.”
“They’re really not that bad, Remi. If we hadn’t won the Stanley Cup two years ago, most people in this city wouldn’t even know who I am.”
She nodded and, with a sigh, he put the Jeep in gear and backed out of the parking spot. He drove through the cavernous concrete parking structure, used a card to exit and pulled out onto the street.
She didn’t know what to say. Her stomach felt all tight and achy. The drive to her place was silent.
He walked her to her door and paused. “I’m gone for the next five days,” he said gruffly. “Road trip.”
She nodded.
“I’ll call you when I’m back.”
She watched him walk back to his Jeep through a blur of tears.
“Is this you?”
Jennifer walked into Remi’s classroom during lunch period the next day, holding the newspaper.
Remi looked up from her sandwich and the spelling tests she was marking. “Is what me?”
“This.” Jennifer held out the newspaper and showed Remi the photograph.
Remi’s heart lurched. “Oh. My. God.”
The photograph was of her and Jason leaving the restaurant, Jason’s arm slung around her shoulders pulling her in for a hug, both of them smiling at each other. The caption read “Is one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors off the market already?”
Remi stared at the photo, her breath stuck in her throat, the sandwich in her hand forgotten.
“Are you dating Jason Heller?” Jennifer asked.
“Um…” Jennifer was her boss. Was this going to cause a problem?
“Not really. We’ve gone out a couple of times.” Was she supposed to tell Jennifer they were just having fun? Hot, sexy, no strings-attached fun?
“Well.” Jennifer grinned. “It’s a nice picture.”
Remi grimaced. Actually, it was a good picture. She looked kind of pretty, cheeks flushed, smiling at Jason, and of course Jason always looked good. Except the looks on their faces had an air of…intimacy. Like they were in love or something.
Ha. In lust was more like it.
She had to read the article, which to her dismay talked a lot about Jason and Brianne and how’d they only recently broke up—how recently?—and how they’d been such a stunning, elite Chicago couple, rich, beautiful, talented. Although what kind of talent did it take to be a model? Then Remi frowned at her own snarky thoughts.
She buried her face in her hands. Once again, this was just another sign that she was in a world she had no business being in. She might as well have landed on another planet and started hanging out with space aliens for all the familiarity she had with paparazzi, publicity, money and models.
Only every other teacher on staff at Abraham Lincoln Middle School saw the newspaper that day and remarked on the photograph to Remi. By the end of the day she was shaking her head. What the hell had she’d gotten herself into by hooking up with a famous superstar hockey player?
Then came the phone calls from not only Jasmine, who’d moved back in with Ethan, demanding to know what on earth Remi was doing with one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors, but from Kyle, good lord, away at Illinois State, who’d somehow come across the photo on the internet.
“Don’t worry,” she assured each of them in turn. “I’ve only seen him a few times, it’s not serious.”
And then came the calls from Emily, Sarah and Delise. They arranged to all get together for pizza at Remi’s place on Saturday night. “I’ll tell you all about it then,” she said with a sigh.
Jason’s cell phone rang with the Sexy Chick ring tone that—dammit—he’d forgotten again to change. Brianne. Shit. He tossed down the clothes he was packing for the road trip.