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.