Page 16 of He Has Charm (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Because the more she shoves me to the anything-but-lovers zone the more everything in me surges in protest. Most notably my dick. I can hardly look at her, especially not her eyes. Not her sleek auburn hair, not her creamy-as-a-milkmaid skin, not at her long shapely legs tipped with those sparkly sandals that screamtake me.And definitely not at the shimmery silk of her dress draped over the luscious round shape of her ass. I wonder where she works out because she must—
Never mind, Maddox. Her peaches are forbidden fruit. The kind that could kill at least your career and possibly your heart and soul.
Fuck. I’m not a big drinker, my birthday notwithstanding, but right now I could use one of those whiskeys the guys are talking about.
A young woman comes over to our group. She’s hot and I’m thinking she must belong to one of these guys until she pushes in between me and Finn and takes hold of my arm instead of his.
“And here he is. Is someone going to introduce me?” The dark-haired woman with long black fingernails is dressed an inch away from Goth in a long black velvet dress. The only thing saving her from looking like Morticia Addams’s twin is the pearl necklace. But I think the only reason she’s wearing it is to draw everyone’s eye to the mounds of lace-covered tits that must choke her when she lies down at night. Shit. I move my eyes up to her face and keep it there.
“You don’t need an introduction. It’s your job to know Maddox Knight, Nora.” Harper closes in and takes my other arm as if she’s preparing for a tug of war with Goth chick Nora, who laughs.
“I know him, but he doesn’t have a clue who I am.” The guys drift away from us leaving me to the mercy of these two women who, it’s becoming clear to me, do not exactly have BFF icons next to each other’s names on their contact lists.
“Maddox, this is Nora Olak. She’s a reporter for the Brawlers organization sports network.” She closes in on Nora, creating a triangle between the three of us, and gets close enough to whisper.
“He’s off-limits,” she says. Nora smiles and arches a brow.
“What are you, his mother or his agent? I think Maddox is a big enough boy to make up his own mind.”
“Off-limits,” I say. “Mind made up. No offense. I’m concentrating on hockey for the duration. Had enough of the—”
“Fun?” she says, but I remember she’s a reporter and whether or not she works for the organization, I mind what I say to her. It’s been ingrained since high school that you don’t talk to reporters, that you watch every syllable you utter in their presence.
“That’s right,” Harper adds in a tone that’s more than protective. Interesting.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to keep Mr. Knight here all to yourself,” Nora says. Harper tenses up and sparks fly from her eyes as the lady in black smiles. “But of course we all know there’s a strict non-frat rule at the Jett Agency. So that would be impossible.”
“That’s right,” Harper says, her voice slightly strangled, and I wonder what’s between these two women.
“Can I buy you a drink, Nora?” I use my kill-‘em-with-kindness routine because it always works to diffuse tensions. Almost always. The witch in black ignores me, keeps Harper pinned with her dark beady eyes, and I reflexively put an arm around Harper’s shoulders as if to protect her, or at least send a message that if you mess with her, you mess with me.
The witch arches one brow and her smile deepens. Could she be any more stereotype? I half expect an off-key organ to pipe up in the background.
“I guess some rules were made to be broken.” She looks at me. “Thanks for the drink offer, Knight. But I’ll take a rain check.” She looks us up and down and I feel Harper flinch with discomfort as if we’ve been caught with our pants down. But it’s a friendly arm around her shoulder and I’m not backing down from the bitch’s accusing stare. That’s right. She’s gone from witch to bitch. “I’ll see you around.” She saunters off and Harper pulls from my hold.
“How about if you buy me that drink?” She drains the rest of her wine and hands me the glass. “Make it a whiskey.”
“Seriously? Do you even drink whiskey?”
“Sure. I’m a sports agent, aren’t I?”
I laugh at that. “What kind of whiskey?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Maker’s Mark Kentucky Straight Bourbon. Didn’t you hear Aiden? It’s the latest and greatest with the guys. Keep up, Knight. This is your team now and I won’t always be here to run interference.”
“Run interference? Is that what you were doing with Nora the … witch?” She snorts a laugh as I get the bartender’s attention and order her a shot. I have no trouble resisting ordering a shot of my own because one of us has to stay sober and one-hundred-and-fifty percent in control. Or this thing between us could go off the rails completely. Something the witch noticed inside a five-minute conversation.
“Is Jett coming tonight? I think we need to talk to him about this arrangement,” I say. “If not, I’ll call him.”
“Don’t bother calling,” she says, her voice tight and her eyes seized with worry. “He’s here and walking toward us now. Behave yourself. My job is very important to me.”
Ham Jett puts a hand on my shoulder as I turn around, then he shakes my hand with the other, his signature greeting. His smile is part grimace like he’s tasted something sour halfway through a joke, turning it bad. That sour something would be me—or more to the point, my sex video. I haven’t talked to him personally since my porn debut went viral. He had his secretary call and arrange the meeting with Harper and it’s been all Harper since then. Glancing between the two now as I retrieve my hand from his and step back, I can’t say I mind him assigning her tohandleme.
“Good to see you, Knight. I watched the press conference. Good job. Hope you’ve found a home here in Boston.”
“Boston’s great. Harper’s done an excellent job.” I clear my throat. “But you know I don’t need a handler. I can handle myself. I’m not about to blow the perfect landing here in hockey town.”
“I’m sure you’re right. But the Brawlers were adamant. It was the one caveat they insisted on before they’d offer a contract. I don’t see that changing anytime soon.” He smiles and claps my back. “It’ll be fine. We originally had you set up with Godfrey Collins, but he’s unavailable. There’s not enough money in your account to get you two apartments or even two hotel rooms, so We’re setting you up in a two-bedroom spacious enough—”
