Instead of giving in to the urge, he opened the door and said over his shoulder, “When you get a bra, Jane.”
Luc unzipped his jacket the rest of the way as he walked down the hall. A repeat of last night couldn’t happen again. The instant he’d kissed her, he’d gone from zero to hard in under a second, and that hadn’t happened to him in a very long time. If Marie hadn’t been waiting in the car, he didn’t know if he would have stopped. He liked to think he would have. He liked to think he was mature and experienced enough to stop before he did anything he’d regret, anything colossally stupid, but he wasn’t sure. He’d kissed a lot of women in his thirty-two years. A lot of women had kissed him too, but never like Jane. He didn’t know what it was about her, and he really didn’t want to take the time to figure it out. She already spent too much time in his head.
The very last thing he needed in his life right now was a woman. Any woman. Especially that woman. The reporter traveling with the team. Sharky, their good-luck charm.
There was only one solution to his Jane problem. He’d have to avoid her as much as possible. Not as simple as it sounded, granted. Not when she traveled with the team, covered every game, and had to call him a “big dumb dodo” for luck.
Over the course of his career, Luc had developed the kind of intensity that held up under the pressures of overtime and point-blank shooters. During the next few days, he planned to use that intensity to keep his focus on winning. He needed to concentrate on his game and do what needed to be done.
That night against Colorado, he shut down twenty-eight of thirty goal attempts and the Chinooks boarded the jet with a three-two victory over their biggest contenders for the Stanley Cup. As soon as the BAC-111 evened out, the glow of Jane’s laptop illuminated the space three rows up. Luc hadn’t needed the light to tell him where she sat-he knew. But just because he knew didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. During the flight from Denver to Philadelphia, he noticed some of the guys talking to her. Daniel said something that made her laugh, and Luc wondered what the young Swede told her that could possibly be so damn funny. Luc grabbed a pillow and sacked out for the rest of the trip.
Avoiding Jane turned out to be easier than anticipated, but not thinking about her proved impossible. It seemed the more determined he was to avoid her, the more he thought about her. The more he tried not to think about her, the more he wondered what she was doing and who she was doing it with. Probably that “wild man” Darby Hogue.
He only saw Jane once in Philadelphia, but the second she entered the locker room at the First Union Center, he noticed her red lips. And he knew she’d worn lipstick on purpose just to drive him insane. She gave her good-luck speech, then walked toward him where he sat in front of an open stall.
“Good luck, you big dumb dodo,” she said, then she lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “And for your information, I have several bras.”
As Luc watched her breeze from the room, he worried that her full red lips had fucked up his concentration. For a few tense moments, his focus was on Jane’s mouth and imaginary black lace bras. He closed his eyes and cleared his head, and by sheer force of will, he got it back ten minutes before he hit the ice.
That night, the Chinooks shut out the Flyers, but not before the boys from Philly laid on the lumber and sent Sutter to the hospital with a concussion. Rob was still on the injured list when the Chinooks landed in New York to take on the Rangers. In the locker room before the game, Luc waited for Jane to wish him luck before he said, “If you own several bras, you might try wearing one.”
She tilted her head to one side and looked at him. “Why?”
Why? He could tell her exactly why, but not in a locker room full of hockey players. Then again, it wasn’t his job to tell her that her nipples were at full salute. He was avoiding her. He was finished talking to her and thinking about her, he told himself as he skated to the net and turned his attention to winning against the Rangers. But without their best lunch pailer, the Chinooks took a thrashing against the boards and in the corners and ultimately lost the game when the Rangers’ captain broke away and shot at Luc on the long side.
Then it was on to Tennessee, the birthplace of Elvis and the Nashville Predators. That night in the locker room there was no mention of bras.
The young Tennessee expansion team easily fell victim to the more experienced Chinooks, and when the team boarded the jet for the long flight to Seattle, Luc was glad to be heading home. His right knee was bothering him and he was exhausted.
Once the BAC-111 evened out, he shrugged out of his jacket and raised the arm between the seats. Grabbing a duffel, he stuffed it against the side of the plane and leaned his back against it. With his fingers woven together and his hands resting on his stomach, he sat in the dark and looked across the aisle at Jane. The light directly above her poured over her head and filtered through her loose curls as she typed out her column. The tips of her fingers lightly touched the keyboard. She paused, stroked backspace several times, then started again. He thought of a few places on his body he’d like to feel those talented hands stroke.
A curl fell across her cheek and she pushed it behind her ear, drawing Luc’s gaze to her jaw and the side of her throat. A few rows back, some of the guys played poker, but most of them slept, their snores mixing with the sound of Jane’s typing.
For the past seven days, he’d kept himself busy, distracted. Now, with nothing to occupy his thoughts, he took the time to study her. To figure out exactly why he suddenly found Jane Alcott so interesting. What it was about her that wouldn’t let go and leave him alone? She was short, small-breasted, and had a smart mouth. If fact, she was just too damn smart. Luc didn’t like those qualities in a woman. And yet… he liked Jane. Tonight, she wore one of those cardigan sweater sets like old women and Ivy League girls wore. Black. No pearls. A pair of gray wool pants, and she’d kicked off her shoes.
Within the darkness, Luc studied her soft hair and smooth white skin. The first time he’d seen her, he’d thought her too plain. A natural girl. Now he was having a hard time remembering exactly why natural girls had never appealed to him before. He wondered what it would be like to slide his hands all over her soft skin. For the first time since he’d stood in her hotel room in Denver, he let himself wonder what it would feel like to hold her naked body against him. To lose himself in the pleasure of touching her. Of kissing her mouth and breasts and smooth thighs.
The tapping stopped, and Jane brought her fingers to her mouth. She pinched her bottom lip and moaned, followed by a long drawn-out sigh that could be either frustration or pleasure. The sound of her moan brought Luc to full painful attention, and he decided that picturing Jane naked hadn’t been such a grand idea after all.
Through the variegated shadows that separated them, he watched her tap backspace a dozen or so times and begin again. Luc closed his eyes and turned his thoughts toward home. While he’d been away, Mrs. Jackson hadn’t reported any more problems with Marie, and when he’d talked to his sister, she seemed somewhat stable. She’d made friends with a girl in their building, and Marie hadn’t burst into tears or gotten angry during any of the calls. He still hadn’t ruled out boarding school, because he did think she would ultimately benefit from a female environment. He just didn’t believe she was ready to talk about it yet, and for some reason he couldn’t explain, there was a part of him that wasn’t ready to talk about it either. Not yet.
Somewhere over Oklahoma he fell asleep, and didn’t wake up until the jet was about to set down at SeaTac. Once the jet landed and came to a stop, Luc grabbed his bags and headed for general parking. Jane walked at a distance in front of him, pulling a huge suitcase on wheels and lugging her laptop and briefcase. His longer stride easily overtook her and they stepped into the elevator together. They pushed the same button to the same floor of the garage and the doors slid closed. Luc leaned back against the wall and glanced over at Jane. Her head was tilted to one side as she studied him. She looked worn out, but so damn cute.
“What?” he asked.
“Are you going to give me the interview this week?”
She might be tired, but she was obviously on the job. While he was thinking how cute she looked and had been fantasizing about her soft skin and talented fingers, she was thinking about her work. Damn. “Are you wearing a bra?”
“Are we back to that?”
“Yes. Why don’t you wear a bra like most women?”
“Why do you care?”
His gaze lowered to the front of her wool coat, but of course he couldn’t see anything. “Your nipples stick out, and it’s distracting.” When he raised his gaze to her face, her brows were drawn and her mouth was open as if she’d been about to say something but forgot what. The elevator doors slid open. “You look like you’re turned on all the time,?
?? he added and held the door open while she wheeled her big suitcase out. The stunned look on her face was classic and he started to laugh. “Don’t tell me that no one’s ever told you that before.”