“With a man?” When Jane didn’t answer, Caroline gasped. “One of the hockey players!”
“Shhh!”
“Who?” she whispered and looked around as if the CIA were eavesdropping. Caroline considered herself bilingual and resorted to the language she and Jane had spoken since grade school. Pig Latin. “Ell-tay e-may, ane-jay.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Later.” She opened her laptop as the light show started on the ice below. During the game, she took notes and tried to keep her eyes off the goalie sitting on the bench, his arms folded across his chest, watching the game. Several times he turned and looked up into the press box. Three sections up, their gazes met and her heart got stuck in her throat.
And she looked away. She’d never felt so unsure in her life. And for a woman who took charge of things and proceeded accordingly, she hated feeling so uncertain. It put knots in her stomach and made her head ache.
?
??Jane?” Caroline shook her shoulder as if she’d been trying to get her attention.
“What?”
“I called your name three times.”
“Sorry, I’m thinking about my article,” she lied.
“Darby wants us to meet him for a drink after the game.”
Jane leaned forward and looked at the assistant general manager. She doubted Darby wanted her to tag along. “I can’t,” she said, which was the truth, and which she also figured Darby knew. “I have to talk to the players and write the article before deadline.” She also had to put together the interview she’d done with Luc. “You two go without me.”
Darby made an effort to look sorry. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Positive.” She almost felt sorry for Darby. She loved Caroline, but her friend was going to stomp Darby’s nerdy heart beneath her Ferragamos. Once again she thought perhaps she should warn Darby, but she had her own heart to worry about.
The Chinooks lost to the Bruins two-three. After the game, Jane took a deep breath and entered the locker room again. Luc’s pads hung in his stall, but he was gone. She let out her pent-up breath, feeling an odd mix of relief and anger. The horrid push and pull of falling in love. Luc had known she would be in the locker room after the game, and he’d left without harassing her. The jerk.
Jane interviewed Coach Nystrom and the second-string netminder, who’d made twenty saves out of twenty-three shots on goal. She talked to Hammer and Fish, then, with her briefcase and jacket in one hand, she made her way toward the tunnel.
Luc stood near the exit watching her walk toward him. He wore his navy Hugo Boss and a maroon silk tie and he was so handsome he made her mouth water.
“I have something for you,” he said and pushed himself away from the wall.
“What?”
He looked behind her as a sports-beat reporter from Jane’s rival paper passed.
“Jim.” Luc nodded his head.
“Martineau.”
The reporter eyed Jane as he walked by, and Jane didn’t have to read his mind to know that he was wondering about her relationship with the notoriously tight-lipped goalie.
Luc glanced behind her again, then he pulled her red lace thong from the pocket of his jacket. “These. Although I’m thinking I should probably keep these for luck,” he said and dangled them from his finger. “Maybe have them bronzed and put on a plaque to hang above my bed.”
Jane snatched them away and shoved them in her briefcase. She looked behind her at the empty hallway. “They didn’t bring you luck. You didn’t play tonight.”
“I’m thinking about a different kind of luck.” He reached for her and slid his fingers through her hair. “Come with me.”
Oh, Lord. She stood perfectly still when what she really wanted was to fall into his chest. “Where?”
“Somewhere.”
She forced herself to step back, and his hand fell to his side. Push and pull, her heart felt like taffy. “You know I can’t be seen with you.”
“Why the hell not?”