He turned and the cold water hit his chest and ran down his stomach to his groin. He hadn’t been in this much throbbing pain since he’d broken his thumb on Hedican’s helmet last season. Only this time the throbbing pain was lower and hadn’t been caused by an aggressive defenseman trying to get at his puck. It had been caused by a living, breathing centerfold trying to drive him insane with her pouty mouth, soft hands, and sizzling-hot body.
The whole thing had been a bad idea. He’d known it going in. Despite what they thought of him, he wasn’t a hard-ass, and he’d let them talk him into the promotion for the good of the team. To get fans into the seats.
He placed his palms on the wall and shoved his head under the shower. He’d been doing a pretty good job of ignoring Mrs. Duffy. He’d ignored the scent of perfume on warm skin, the sound of her laugher, and her red, red lips. Then she’d touched him. The weight of her hand and her fingers sliding across his shoulder had sent fire down his spine and straight between his legs.
Rubbing her hand on his shoulder had been bad, but touching his hair and face had made his gut clench, and he’d had to fight like hell to keep from turning his mouth into her palm and sucking her skin. Then she’d put her foot in his crotch, leaned forward, and stuck her breasts in his face. After that, all he’d been able to think about was sliding his palm up the back of her smooth thigh and grabbing a handful of her ass. Pulling her closer and burying his face in the front of her dress. While she’d been smiling and tossing her hair for the camera, he’d been having some wild fantasies about what he wanted to do to her. Things that involved pulling her down on his lap and kissing her red lips. Tangling his fingers in her hair while she rode him like Smarty Jones in the long stretch. And yeah, he’d been royally pissed off about that. The last thing he wanted and needed in his life was a hard-on for the owner of the hockey team, but for some inexplicable reason, his body didn’t care what he wanted and needed.
Ty straightened and rubbed his hands over his face. It wasn’t as if she was all that beautiful. He cleared the water from his eyes and shook his head. Okay, that wasn’t true. Everything about her was hot as hell, but it wasn’t as if he’d never been around beautiful women. He was a hockey player. He’d had his share of beautiful women.
Faith. You can call me Faith, she’d said, like that was a good idea or ever going to happen. He needed a constant reminder of who she was and what she was to him. A reminder that she held his fate in her hands. Even if she was willing, he needed to remember that sex with the owner of the Chinooks was an appallingly bad idea.
Gooseflesh rose on his skin as he tried to clear his head of Faith Duffy. There were a few places he could go before he headed home. A few clubs where there were women who would be happy to share a little one-on-one time with him.
He stayed in the shower a few more minutes, until he was in control and could breathe again. He turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist. He grabbed a second towel and dried his hair. His dad was still hanging out at his place. Maybe he’d just go home and see what the old man had going on.
Jules Garcia stood in the middle of the locker room waiting for him. “What do you want?” he asked Faith’s assistant.
“To ask you to stop giving Faith such a hard time.” He had his arms folded across his big chest like he was big, bad trouble.
Ty kind of respected him for that. “Who says I give Mrs. Duffy a hard time?” As he moved to his locker, he dried his face and wondered if this was a case of an employee sticking up for his employer, or something else. Some of the guys wondered if Jules might be gay. Ty wasn’t convinced.
“I do.”
Ty sighed and sat down on the bench. He didn’t want to give her a hard time. He just wanted to be around her as little as possible, and her relationship with her assistant wasn’t his business.
“She’s not just some blonde off the street. She’s the owner of the team.”
“That’s right,” Ty agreed and ran the towel over his head. “And she knows nothing about hockey. I was hired by Virgil to win the cup. I’m the captain of the Chinooks and my ultimate responsibility is to get us into the last final round. But I have major concerns about how I’m going to do that with a former Playboy playmate holding our fate in her hands and making us look like idiots in interviews.”
“Are you talking about Sports Illustrated?”
“Yep.”
“Are you jealous because they want to put her on the cover?”
Ty folded his arms over his bare chest. He hadn’t known about the cover. “I’ve been on the cover three times, and I don’t give a flying fuck about the cover. What I do give a fuck about is picking up the magazine and reading softball questions that she can’t answer. Or picking up the magazine and reading a recap of her Playboy years that makes us all look ridiculous.”
“That’s understandable. Everyone is concerned about the team’s image. Especially Faith.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I admit that when she first called and set up a meeting with me, I was more curious about seeing her than wanting to take the job. Virgil fired me five years ago for talking shit about her.”
“What did you say that got you fired?”
Jules looked him in the eye and answered. “He overheard me telling the head scouts that he’d married a stripper young enough to be his granddaughter.”
Ty dropped the towel on the bench beside him. “Doesn’t sound like something to get fired over.”
“It wasn’t, and if I’d stopped with that, I would have kept my job. But I’d seen her layout and I described her in detail for the guys. Everything from her big boobs to her bald…you know.”
Yeah, he did know.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Anyway, I resented her for a lot of years, but it wasn’t her fault I was fired. Any more than Virgil dying and leaving her the team is her fault. It landed in her lap and she’s trying hard to deal with it the best she can.”
“I am aware that it’s not her fault.” He reached behind him into his locker and pulled out his sports bag. It wasn’t her fault she’d inherited the team, and his hard-on wasn’t her fault either. The former was Virgil’s doing and the latter was his horny imagination. He had to figure out a better way to deal with both. “I’ll try to be…”
“Nicer? Make her happy.”
“More respectful. It’s your job to make her happy. Maybe you two can go shopping, buy matching sweaters, and have a girls’ night.”
“What?” Jules folded his arms over his big chest, again looking like he was big, bad trouble. “I’m not gay.”
Ty stood and dropped his towel. “I don’t give a shit if you’re gay or straight or somewhere in between.” He knew several gay players who hit like freight trains.
“Why do you think I’m ‘gay or straight or somewhere in between?’” Jules looked truly baffled. “Do the other guys think I’m gay?”
Ty shrugged.
“Because I use hair product?”
“No.” He stepped into his underwear. “Because you say ‘hair product.’”
Chapter 7
A discordant wave of cheers and cowbells rose from the arena below and clashed with the clinking of wineglasses within the skybox inside the Key Arena in Seattle. Faith leaned forward, her fingers gripping the arm of her chair as she gazed down at the scrum in front of the Chinooks net. Sticks and elbows flew in the crease, and of course Ty Savage was right in the center of the action. Goalie Marty Darche went down in a butterfly, stacking his pads while the players on both teams battled it out in the second period.