Faith tilted her head and seemed to consider it. “No, I need Jules. But you-all don’t need that many sticks.” She looked at each of them in turn. “I figure one apiece is good. Am I right?”
There was a collected inhalation of horrified breath. Everyone knew that a man’s stick was sacred, honed for hours until the curve was just right. Not even for a former Playmate of the Year who just happened to be the owner of the team would these players willingly leave them behind. Pads and helmets? Yeah. Their sticks, no way.
The hockey players at the table cast uncertain glances at Ty as if they expected the captain to step in and do something. Like maybe give her a glove rub.
Faith laughed. “I was just kidding, you guys.” She waved away their concerns, flashing the huge rock she still wore on her left finger. “If there isn’t enough room, I’ll have the hotel ship everything.”
Ty almost smiled. No one could bullshit and get the uninitiated going like a hockey player. As a bullshitter, Mrs. Duffy wasn’t great, but she wasn’t bad for a rookie.
“Jules and I watched the Sharks practice,” she said as her beer arrived. “We were up in the skybox with binoculars. It was all very undercover hush-hush secret-agent stuff.” She took a drink and licked the foam off her top lip. “They seem to have a lot of speed, but I’m not convinced they can shoot the puck as well as we can.”
Ty felt his brows rise up his forehead.
“I think we have them beat on offense,” she added as she leaned back and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “We’re better delivering tape to tape and capitalizing on turnovers.”
Sam looked at Ty as if an alien had just landed at their table. A sexy-as-hell alien who talked about hockey and sounded like maybe she knew what she was talking about. Just a few weeks ago, she’d wanted to sign Terrible Ted. He wondered if she even had a clue what she’d just said.
“Ah, yeah,” Sam managed. “We were just talking about how we need to beat them offensively and hammer their goalie.”
Above the smell of food and beer, Ty caught the scent of her perfume. He recognized it from the other night at the photo shoot.
“I don’t know a lot about their goalie.” She raised one hand and toyed with the top button of her sweater. “But I’ve read that he isn’t consistent.”
“Don’t believe what you read,” Ty told her. She looked across her shoulder at him and her green eyes stared into his. “That’s where a lot of people make mistakes.”
“Believing what they read?”
“Yeah.”
“I read that you’re persona non grata in Canada. Is that true?”
“Pretty much.”
“I also read that you think the Stanley Cup will come down to who wants it more.”
“Where did you read that?”
“
Hockey News.”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“I’m paraphrasing.” She lowered her voice a fraction and added, “You actually said it will come down to who has the biggest sac.”
That sounded more like him. “Which is different from wanting it enough.” He took a drink of his beer then set it back on the table. He didn’t want to talk about his sac. Not with her. Not when his sac had noticed the way she smelled and the way her breasts filled out that sweater.
“How is it different?”
He looked into her big green eyes surrounded by thick black lashes. “It just is.” Her cheeks were smooth, perfect. He lowered his gaze to her full mouth and chin down to the hollow of her delicate throat just above the top button on her sweater. He wanted to do things to her. Hot, sweaty things that would make their skin stick together. Wild things that would get him into a lot of trouble.
“How’s it different?” she pushed.
“Angel of Harlem” poured from the pub’s sound system and he wondered how to answer. If she were a man, he wouldn’t even hesitate. If she were a man, he wouldn’t have a hard-on. “You can want something, Mrs. Duffy, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get it. Sometimes wanting isn’t enough.” And because she pushed, he added,
“Sometimes it comes down to what you’ve got left in your gut and the size of your sac.”
She chuckled as if she wasn’t the least bit shocked. “The article didn’t mention the importance of sac size, Mr. Savage.”