From behind her coffee, one corner of her mouth lifted. “Which fifty percent is true?”
She looked so cute looking up at him, smiling, he was almost tempted to tell her. “Off the record?”
“Of course.”
Almost. “None of your business. I don’t talk about the women in my past or my time in rehab.”
She lowered the mug. “Fair enough. I won’t ask you anything about rehab or your sex life. There’s been enough written about that, and it’s boring.”
Boring? His sex life wasn’t boring. Lately he hadn’t had a lot of action, but what he did get wasn’t boring. Well… maybe just a little. No, boring was the wrong word. Too strong. There was something missing in his sex life lately. Besides the sex itself. He didn
’t know what that something was, but once he had the Marie situation resolved, he’d have more time to figure it out.
“And besides,” she added, “I don’t want anything you tell me to blow my illusions of you.”
“What illusions?” He leaned one shoulder against the doorway. “That I have threesomes every night?”
“You don’t?”
“No.” He looked at her standing there telling him his sex life was boring and he decided to shock her a little bit. Just a bit with something she’d probably read about anyway. “I tried it once, but the girls were more interested in each other than me. Which didn’t do much for my self-esteem.”
She started to laugh and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone with a woman in her apartment, laughing and talking with her, and not trying to maneuver her toward the bedroom. It was kind of nice.
The night after Luc’s visit, Jane sat next to Darby in the press box for the Chinooks’ Vancouver game. An octagonal Scoreboard with four video screens hung from the center of the pyramid-shaped roof. Lights bounced off the big green Chinooks logo below at center ice, and the pregame laser show had yet to begin. It was half an hour until the scheduled puck drop, but Jane was ready with a pad of paper and her recorder in her bag. She was back and more excited than she let on. Except for Darby, management had yet to arrive, and she wondered if they’d give her the cold shoulder.
She looked across at him. “Thanks for getting my job back for me.” His forearms rested on his knees as he gazed out at the arena. Tonight he’d applied a little less hair gel than usual, but beneath his blue suit jacket, he wore his trusty pocket protector.
“It wasn’t just me. The players felt bad after you came to the locker room and wished them luck. They thought anyone that gutsy should have her job back.”
“They wanted me back because they think I’m lucky now.”
“That too,” he said through a smile as he gazed at the ice below. “What are you doing next Saturday?”
“Aren’t we on the road?”
“No, we leave the next day.”
“Then nothing.” She shrugged. “Why?”
“Hugh Miner is having his jersey retired at a big banquet at the Space Needle.”
The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Who’s Hugh Miner?”
“Chinooks goalie from ‘96 to his retirement last year. I was wondering if you’d want to go.”
“With you? On a date?” she asked as if he were crazy.
His pale cheeks flushed, and she realized that had come out all wrong. “It doesn’t have to be a date,” he said.
“Hey, I don’t mean that like it sounded.” She patted his shoulder through his jacket. “You know I can’t date anyone involved in the Chinooks organization. It would only cause more speculation and rumor.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Now she felt really bad. He probably couldn’t get a real date to go with him, and she’d added insult to injury. “I suppose I’d have to dress up.”
“Yes, it’s black tie.” He finally looked at her. “I’d pick you up in a limo, so you wouldn’t have to drive.”
How could she possibly say no? “What time?”