“Now you have to come and shake my hand,” the captain, Mark Bressler, informed her.
“Oh, that’s right.” She walked up to him and took his hand. “Good luck with the game, Mark.”
“No, you said Hitman.”
This was just weird. “Good luck with the game, Hitman.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Jane.”
“You’re welcome.” From outside, she could hear the pregame entertainment begin, and she once again headed for the door.
“You’re not finished, Jane.”
She turned and looked across the room at Luc. He stood and crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”
No way. No way was she going to call him a dodo in front of the guys.
“Come on.”
She looked around at the faces of the other players. If Luc played badly, they’d blame her. As if her shoes were lead, she walked across the dense carpet with the Chinooks logo in the center. “What?” she asked as she came to stand in front of Luc. In his skates, he was taller than usual, and she had to look way up.
“You have to say what you said to me the other day. For luck.”
That’s what she’d suspected, but she tried to get out of it. “You’re so good, you don’t need luck.”
He grasped her arm and gently pulled her closer. “Come on, now.”
His heated palm warmed her through her sweater. “Don’t make me, Luc,” she said just loud enough for him to hear. She could feel her face catch on fire. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“Whisper it in my ear.”
The creaking of leather pads filled the vanishing space between them as he bent over her. The scent of his shampoo and shaving cream filled her nose combined with the leather of his pads. “You dumb dodo,” she whispered beside his ear.
“That’s not right.” He shook his head and his cheeks touched hers for the briefest of seconds. “You forgot big.”
Oh, Lord. Before this was over, she was either going to die of shame or pass out or combust from pent-up lust. She really didn’t want to do any of the three. Especially the last one, but his testosterone level was like a heavy force field pulling her in against her will. She closed her eyes and locked her knees so she wouldn’t lean into him. “You big dumb dodo.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. I appreciate it.”
Sweetheart. She opened her eyes. He turned his face, and with his lips inches from hers, he smiled. “Am I going to have to do this before every game?” she managed, though her voice sounded more breathy than she would have liked.
He didn’t seem to notice her voice. He straightened and tiny creases appeared in the corners of his eyes. “ ‘Fraid so.”
Finally, she felt as if she could breathe again. “I’m asking for a raise.”
He slid his big warm hand up her arm to her shoulder. He gave her cheek a light pat, then dropped his hand to his side. “Ask for a bigger expense account too. The next time we’re on the road, I’m going to win back that fifty I lost at darts.”
Jane shook her head and turned to go. “Not going to happen, Luc,” she said over her shoulder.
She made her way back up to the media booth and again sat beside Darby. King-5 was there as well as ESPN, broadcasting the Chinooks’ battle with Vancouver. With Luc Martineau securely back in his zone, Seattle came out on top in the three-one scrum. Seemingly without effort, he snagged the puck from the air and reminded everyone who watched exactly why he was considered a premier goalie.
In the locker room after the game, the team answered Jane’s questions. Although they didn’t keep their pants up, their disrobing seemed less calculated.
That night, once Jane sent her column off to the paper, she phoned Caroline and made her friend’s day, week, and year with four simple words. “I need a makeover,” she said as soon as Caroline picked up.
“Who is this?”
“Very funny. I have a fancy banquet to go to next week and I need to look good.”
“Thank you, Jesus, for this gift I am about to receive,” Caroline whispered. “I’ve waited for this for years. The first thing we need to do is make an appointment with Vonda.”
“Who’s Vonda?”
“The woman who’s going to wax you all over and shape that wild hair.”
Jane looked at the receiver in her hand. “Wax?”
“And hair.”
“The last time I let you do my hair, I ended up looking like Buckwheat.”
“That was tenth grade, and I won’t be doing it. After the hair, we’ll hook you up with Sara at the MAC counter where I work. The woman is a true artist.”
“I was thinking just a little mascara and some lip gloss. A nice black cocktail dress and some cheap pumps.”
“And we got in some fabulous Ferragamos today,” Caroline rattled on as if Jane hadn’t spoken. “In red. They’ll look prefect with a killer little Betsey Johnson I saw upstairs.”
Chapter 8
Boomer: A Hand Shot
Luc pulled the cuffs at his wrists, then slipped onyx studs through each. That morning at practice, he’d heard Jane would be at tonight’s banquet with Darby. He was curious to see what she’d show up wearing-something black, no doubt. He raised his hands and popped the last stud in the banded collar of his starched white shirt. He hadn’t spoken with her since the game against Vancouver.
The second-string goalie had played the last two games, giving Luc a much-needed break, and he hadn’t had the chance to talk to her. Not that he had anything that he wanted to say. But he liked to talk to her, and he liked to provoke her a bit to see her reaction. To see if she’d laugh or if her gaze would narrow and her lips get all pinched. Or if he could bring a blush to her pale cheeks.
He buttoned his charcoal suspenders to the waistband of his pleated trousers and wondered if Jane and Darby were dating now. He didn’t think they were. At least he didn’t like to think they were. Jane was fiery and had a smart mouth, and a geeky pencil pusher was all wrong for her. Especially that pencil pusher. It was no secret that Darby had been against Luc’s trade to the Chinooks and that the two men tolerated each other because they had to. As far as Luc was concerned, Darby Hogue was nutless, while Jane had guts. He guessed that’s what he liked about her. She didn’t run from adversity. She faced it head-on. All five feet of her.
Luc grabbed his black bow tie and moved to his closet’s mirrored doors. He laid it flat against his collar and threaded one end beneath the other. Dissatisfied with the lengths on each side, he pulled it off and started over. It took him three tries before he’d tied it perfectly around his neck. He usually didn’t mind throwing on his tux and attending banquets-especially banquets honoring fellow goalies-but there was nothing usual about tonight. Tonight his little sister was going to a high school dance with a guy who had his nose pierced.
Luc grabbed his watch from his bedside table and slipped it on his wrist as he made his way to Marie’s room. He wasn’t about to leave until her date appeared for her. He knew what went on in the minds of teen boys, and he planned to look this Zack over and let the kid know that he’d be home when Marie returned, waiting up for her. He had to be here to shake Zack’s hand a little too hard, give him the don’t-mess-with-my-sister stare, and put some fear into him. Luc might not be a great brother-in fact, he wasn’t anywhere near great-but he would protect Marie as long as she was with him.
He’d decided to put off any discussion of boarding school until sometime after the dance. She’d had so much fun picking out her dress and shoes, it just hadn’t seemed like the right time to talk about it.
Luc knocked on Marie’s door, and when she mumbled a reply he entered the room. He expected to see her in the black velvet dress with the square neck, puffy sleeves, and little pink roses sewn on it. She’d shown him the dress the other day, and he’d thought it real sweet for a girl her age. Instead of being dressed, though, she lay on top of her bed wearing her pajamas. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she’d been crying.