Page 8 of He Has Charm (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“You.” He arches a brow and I have no idea what he’s talking about but I draw my brows together in an effort to puzzle it out. “You’re a woman, Harper, and if we’re spending time together, you can’t ask me not to—”
“I can. Yes I can ask—insist. Don’t think of me as a woman, Knight. I’m a jailer. A mean, nasty prison guard who—” He starts grinning and shaking his head. “What?”
“You’ll never carry it off. You don’t have a mean bone in your body.” Then he has the nerve to give my body a once-over, lingering on my boobs as I try shrinking into my shapeless suit.
“Yes, I am. Very mean. You bring it out in me. I’m an angry bitch.” I make a stern, angry bitch face and he, of course laughs. But I don’t have a chance to say something scathing—not that I have any idea what it would be—because the flight attendant, a lovely young and slim dark-haired woman with big doe eyes, approaches us with a big fat drooling smile aimed at Mr. Hockey Hunk.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Knight.” She turns to me and nods. “Ma’am. Can I get you something to drink?” She returns her adoring gaze toMr. Knightand I feel like the invisible woman. But Maddox turns to me.
“What would you like to drink, Harper?” With all his attention focused on me and that signature grin in place, I heat up. But then he leans in, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and whispers. “How about if we splurge on champagne to seal our deal?” His breath skates over my skin and I shiver involuntarily.
“I don’t know.” My breathy voice trails off and I clear my throat. Shit. He winks at me and then tells the flight attendant we’ll have two champagnes and she takes off to get our drinks. Shit. What am I doing?
“Maybe you shouldn’t have ordered two.”
“One glass of champagne isn’t going to make you reckless, St. John. Is it?”
He has me. There’s no good answer to that and I’m already sounding like a wimp, not giving him a firm yes or no. So I improvise.
“It wasn’t me I was worried about.” I give him a warden face, narrowing my eyes. He laughs.
“We both know I can handle a glass of champagne and a fuck-load more.” He leans in and I barely hold back the flinch of excitement at the whiff of that intoxicating maleness and realize a little champagne isn’t the problem compared to his potent presence. “Besides, I gave you my word I’d behave. So I will.”
“What if behaving means no drinking for the rest of the season?”
“Won’t be the first time I limited my alcohol in the name of hockey. My senior year in high school the whole team went on the wagon in our quest to make it to the state championship.”
“Did it work?”
“What do you think?”
“You won the championship.” He nods and a grin spreads so hard on his face that his shadowy dimple dents the right side of his face. Geez, I hope that flutter I feel below my belly button has nothing to do with his dimple and everything to do with the idea that he has the determination to succeed in our current mission. Either way I need to get over hisPlaygirlposter-worthy body and that damn vision I have of him buff and naked and so ready—
Stop it. Now.
The flight attendant brings our champagne and her gaze lingers on Maddox, though to his credit, he doesn’t give her more than a nod of thanks, keeping his attention on me. Is that good or bad? I don’t know how I feel. It’s good that he’s not flirting with a random flight attendant, but having his undivided attention on me feels too titillating to be good for me, or for our mission.
“How about you? What did you give up to win your job with the best sports agency in the business?” He stares with unabashed interest, forcing me to answer honestly.
“Only ninety-nine percent of my social life. If it’s not a wedding, a funeral or the birth of a baby, I don’t go. No drinking, no socializing—not unless you count work-related events, which I don’t. Or I didn’t used to. It’s almost like now the agency is my family and work is my social life.”
“I know what you mean. But you must have some time to get away from work.”
“I go to games and work parties and charity events representing the agency on my so-called nights off.”
“Those are fun. Some of the charity events I’ve gone to for hockey have been a fucking rush—pardon my language.”
“We have to work on your language. You drop the F-bomb more than any professional athlete I’ve seen in interviews and that covers a small village of men and women.”
“That bad, eh? I’ll work on it. You haven’t convinced me that you don’t have any fun. How about the games and the parties after?”
“I don’t usually go out after the games. I guess one of us is going to have to change because I’ll be going everywhere you go—or don’t go.” His eyes crinkle in a smile that makes my lady muscles contract.
“Oh yeah? I won’t mind staying in with you. But but you’ll have to come out after a game at least once with the guys. It’s a bonding thing.”
“What about the no drinking rule?” I ignore his insinuation about staying in with me. Or I try to because I truly don’t know which I’ll find more stressful, going out with him to try and keep the women off him or staying in with him and… Never mind.
“No problem. I can go out and stick to tonic water.” He pauses and I know he has more to say and for some reason he has my nerves rung out. So what if he’s good-looking? Okay that’s the understatement of the year. His gorgeous dark fringed blue eyes are better than Paul Newman’s. But that’s still no reason for my lady parts to react like a starving girl at an all you can eat buffet. He finally says what he has on his mind.
