Come Undone

By Penny Dee

Copyright © 2017 Penny Dee

All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands and events are either the work of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For my beautiful family

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Prologue

The hot blonde rode me like she was a cowgirl and I was her bronco. She ground against me, her hips rocking back and forth, her huge boobs bouncing about as she went to town on my body. Sharp nails dug into my chest and she moaned loudly as another wave of pleasure overcame her.

“Oh, Jake.” Her head dropped back and there was more grinding. More bouncing breasts. More nails in my chest as she finally cried out, “I’m coming . . ”

It was an Oscar-worthy performance. I closed my eyes briefly, not feeling the connection. She whimpered and then moaned again, licking her lips and running her fingers across her big boobs.

When she collapsed against me, her warmth covered me like a blanket and it was all I needed. That, right there. The warmth. The closeness. The intimacy. She shifted along me and my orgasm was like an intergalactic attack on my brain. White light exploded across the darkness of my bourbon-soaked mind, filling and drugging me with pleasure.

But the connection and the bliss were short-lived. Once the ecstasy of the orgasm eddied away, the emptiness was waiting for me and I felt the all-too-familiar pangs of loneliness creep back in.

I pulled the blonde into my chest and wrapped my arms around her, wanting that fleeting feeling of warmth and comfort to stay. But within seconds she was moving against me suggestively, pressing her naked ass against my uninterested body and whimpering. I squeezed her tighter to me, hoping she would get the idea that I didn’t need any more porn from her tonight. That this was it. This was what I needed. But she took the gesture as encouragement and twisted around in my arms, her hand falling to my lower abs.

What was wrong with just wrapping your arms around someone and falling asleep buried in their warmth? Didn’t anyone want that anymore?

“I gotta sleep, babe,” I whispered.

Her fingers slid around me. “One more for the road?”

I groaned and closed my eyes. I was so tired. So damn tired. Not even her expert hands on my junk were able to stop my rapid descent into sleep.

*   *   *

It was an ice-cold sensation splashing across my face that ripped me out of the darkness sometime later. My eyes flew open and immediately landed on my best friend, Tyler, standing over me looking a mix of amused and pissed off. He held an empty bucket in his hand, water dripping from the lip.

“What the fuck, man?” I sat up and was surprised to see it was morning already. The top half of me was soaked with water and the moment the cool morning air hit my skin it prickled with goosebumps.

“Get the hell up, dude. We’re due at practice and if you don’t stop fucking around, Coach is going to fire your ass.”

Turning, I noticed the other side of the bed was empty. My date had skipped out on me—which was a good thing because mornings-after weren’t really my thing.

So why did seeing that empty spot next to me leave me feeling a little abandoned?

“What’s the time?” I asked, squinting as I tied to focus through my hangover. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and did nothing to ease the pain I felt knocking against my brain.

Tyler threw a discarded T-shirt at me. “It’s after eight, asshole. That’s what I’m saying. Practice has already started and we’re late.”

Oh, fuck!

I hadn’t meant to oversleep. Nothing was more important to me than my hockey. I sprang out of bed but another blade of pain cut through my brain. Damn bourbon and after-midnight sex. I knew better than partying the night before practice yet something in my fucked-up psyche was determined to break all my own rules.

“You’re such an asshole.” Tyler shook his head. “How much did you drink last night? You look like shit.”

“I love you, too,” I replied, grabbing my training gear from the closet.

“Um, dude, you might want to think about some pants. It’s way too early in the morning to see your junk.”

I looked down and I was completely naked.

“Right.” I shoved on a pair of sweats. “Do I have time to shower?” I asked as I pulled on last night’s T-shirt.

“You don’t have time to breathe. Kit’s outside in the car and she left the engine running. Let’s go.”

Kit was Tyler’s wife. They’d met in Chem class during our last year of high school and had been together ever since. Tyler was the settle down kind of guy and Kit had saved him from the rollercoaster ride of casual sex and the ever-increasing presence of puck bunnies during our journey into professional hockey.

Tyler and I were best friends. We were also teammates on one of the best teams in the NHL, the NYC Ice Cats.

I grabbed my hockey bag from the closet near the laundry.

“This shit has to stop, Jake. You’re already walking a thin line with Coach,” Tyler said. “We’ve got the playoffs coming up and if you don’t get your shit together you might just fuck it up for all of us.” He continued with his pep talk as he followed me through the house to the front door.  “I get why you’re acting out this way—I know this time of year is going to be hard for you. . .”

I stopped walking and swung around, ready to lash out at him for bringing that shit up, but I stopped myself from saying anything. Since my parents and kid sister were killed in a plane crash this time last year, I was brutally aware that Tyler and Kit were the only family I had left.

“You’re right and I’m sorry,” I said. The surge of loneliness and despair that swelled inside me was almost too much to bear. But instead of giving it reign, I adopted my most disarming smile and added, “No more late nights or being late for training.” I held up one hand as if I was swearing allegiance. “I promise.”

“And no more bourbon-fueled fuckfests.”

“No more bourbon-fueled fuckfests,” I agreed.

“And no more puck bunnies.”

“What—no!” I dropped my hand to my side.

But Tyler leaned forward and hoisted it back up. “Until after the playoffs.”

Dude had my balls in a vise.

Reluctantly, I agreed. “Okay, no more bunnies until after the playoffs.”

He let my hand drop back down.

“Good. Now get your ass moving before we both get fired.”

Feeling hungover as shit, I followed him to the gunmetal grey SUV waiting for us out front and climbed in the backseat. 

“Sorry, babe,” Tyler said sliding into the passenger seat. “The douche was still asleep.”

“The very lovable douche,” I said closing the door and leaning forward to kiss Kit on the cheek. “How are you, beautiful?”

“Late, because of your sorry ass,” she replied.

“Ahhh, but you love my ass,” I said, clicking my seatbelt into place. “Be honest, if Tyler wasn’t in the picture you’d be totally into me.”

“Oh, totally,” she replied with mock enthusiasm and then grinned at her husband.

Tyler reached over and sucker punched me in the thigh. “Douche.”

“So what was it last night? Some random hottie you picked up at the Old Bar? Or was it one of those puck bunnies?” Kit asked, easing out into traffic.

“Last I saw, he was leaving with one of the ice girls,” Tyler murmured to his wife.

Kit rolled her eyes. The ice girls were the hockey equivalent of cheerleaders. Hot chicks on skates.

And he was right. Last night’s girl was on an ice crew team—just not ours. She belonged to the Boston Winterhawks. And for the record she’d hit me up, not the other way round.

I shrugged. “What am I to do when this asshat already got the best girl in the world?” I said, leaning forward and punching Tyler in the shoulder.

“Keep talking like that and I might just forgive you for making me late for my appointment.” Kit winked at me in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t encourage him,” Tyler said.

“Like he needs any encouragement. He’s his own endless source of motivation.”

As we waited at the traffic lights, she rubbed her pregnant belly and I felt jealous as fuck. Don’t get me wrong—I was happy for Tyler. He was the best person in the world, as far as I was concerned. I was simply envious of what he had. A girl who loved him. A girl who celebrated with him during the good times and who propped him up on those shitty days when things got tough. She was always waiting for him, her arms reaching out to hold him at the end of the day. While I spent my nights with a bottle of bourbon and an endless stream of faceless women.

I know. Poor me.

Kit was also one of my best friends. The three of us had been friends since high school. I’d even taken her sister to the school prom but had proceeded to fuck that friendship up with my insatiable addiction to the puck bunnies who hung around the rink hoping for some action with the players. Puck bunnies were my crack. They were like groupies—ready and willing to do whatever it took to get close to a hockey player. And they took really good care of themselves just so they could take care of you.

But lately I’d been fucking up too much. Hitting the bourbon and the bunnies and losing sight of the game, which wasn’t good when we were a week out from playing for the Stanley Cup against those damn Californians. I didn’t know why I was falling off the rails. I wish I could put it down to being a twenty-nine-year-old guy and feeling restless, but lately I was starting to wonder if it was just because I was an asshole. And maybe the fact that God had taken my family out with one cast of his hand that had something to do with it—who knew?

After the accident, the world had waited for me to fall apart. So maybe this was it. Maybe this was my delayed reaction to losing my family. I mean, I was a mild-mannered guy and I tended to take everything in stride, but come on, losing your entire family in one fell swoop bought you a ticket to Crazytown.

When my family was killed I hadn’t fallen apart. Instead, I had thrown myself into my game. My career. My brand. I took on endorsement deal after endorsement deal until even I was sick of seeing my face on overpriced merchandise and inanimate objects. I joined charities, appeared on talk shows, participated in every relevant sporting event—hell, I was even a judge on the Miss New York City panel—just to keep busy. Just to keep one step ahead of my grief. Because I knew—just knew—that if I slowed down, if I had too much quiet time, then the heartache I felt swelling in my stomach would break the surface and consume me.

Maybe my days of outrunning my grief were coming to an end.

We arrived at the rink ten minutes late and bid Kit a fond farewell, which involved way too much tongue from Tyler.

“Dude, c’mon. You’re gonna knock her up again if you keep kissing her like that.”

Kit rolled her eyes at me, while Tyler made sure I got a decent look at his middle finger.

Inside the arena, the team was in the middle of a scrimmage on the ice. As we walked in Coach eyed us with censure, making sure I saw the disapproving headshake and look of annoyance. We skipped the lockers, put on our skates and gear at the benches, and were on the ice within a couple of minutes.

Heading toward my teammates on the ice, I could feel the hate radiating off our right winger, Ayton Salazar. His darks eyes latched onto mine and followed me as I skated over to center line.

Salazar had a real problem with me. A real problem. Call it a clash of personalities—like I had one and he didn’t.

Or maybe it was because I had nailed his girlfriend. Obviously not while he was with her. I mean, I could be an asshole as much as the next guy, but not that much. She’d ridden the Pennington pony way before she’d met him but it still irked him that I’d been down that well-ridden road before him.

I winked at him as I skated past, and if looks could kill I’d be dead a hundred times over.

The mood on the ice was tense. Being a week out from the final Stanley Cup playoff everyone was highly strung. We were up against the reigning champions, the Los Angeles Lynx. Last season they’d stolen the championship win from us in a badly played campaign where we’d choked and lady luck had handed them the win. We’d felt cut-off at the knees. This was our chance for redemption and no one wanted to blow it. Not even that dick, Salazar.

Within a second of Coach calling a scrimmage, I had the puck and Salazar shoved me into the boards, damn near knocking all the air out of my lungs. Shaking off the stars in my eyes, I flew across the ice in search of retaliation. My mind was clear. Adrenaline pumped through my body. Damn, I loved this game. Stealing the puck from another one of our D-men I started weaving in and out of my teammates.

Salazar seemed determined to press all my buttons; body checking me, pushing me into the boards, chasing me across the ice and stick checking me. He was looking for someone to throw a few cathartic punches into and if he pressed one more damn button, I was going to give him his chance.

I didn’t have to wait long. When he high-sticked me I threw down my stick and gloves.

“You got something to say to me, Salazar?”

Salazar dropped his stick on his way over to me. “Yeah. You’re a fucking asshole.”

I grinned and held out my arms. “You wanna play? I’m right here, buddy.”

Salazar flung off his gloves. “Let’s go, pretty boy.”

I grinned. Ready to put some punch into that smug look on his face. “You know, you’ve got a face I’ll never get tired of smashing.”

I went for him but Tyler and another teammate, Tex, stepped between us. Tyler drew me away, while Tex hustled Salazar in the other direction.

“C’mon, dude, it’s not worth it,” Tyler said to me.

I nodded but when I looked up at Salazar and realized he was still trash talking me I was overcome with a need to put my fist in his mouth.

“Keep chirping, motherfucker!” I mimicked his chatting with my fingers.

That’s when Salazar said it. That’s when he decided to go there. 

To fucking press my nuclear detonation button.

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself, you motherfucking orphan!”

I saw red.

Blood. Fucking. Red.

Mild-mannered Jake was gone and it was written all over my face what I wanted to do to him. “Oh, now we gotta go!”

I went for Salazar but half the team, it seemed, swept in to separate us. They knew Salazar’s comment was uncalled for. Inappropriate. Insensitive. Spoken in fluent fucktard.

But all I could see was a whole lot of hockey players in the way of me and the asshole who’d just called me a fucking orphan. What? Because I’d fucked his girlfriend two or three years ago because she’d decided she wanted to bag herself a hockey player for the night? I nearly flew over half of them to get to the douchebag.

Tyler swooped in. “C’mon, buddy. He didn’t mean it. We’re all feeling on edge.”

Coach appeared next to me. “You need time?”

I shook my head. I didn’t need time off the ice. I needed to skate. It was the only thing that cleared my head.

“Fuck you,” I mouthed to Salazar before turning my back on him. His eyes were cold and menacing like a great white shark but I decided not to waste any more energy on the douche.

Practice resumed and it was fast paced. In a final scrimmage, Salazar came at me, slamming me into the boards and knocking the wind completely out of me. We both went down, but when he fell we got tangled and his legs kicked me backwards, flipping me up in the air.

My face smashed against the ice while my feet flew back.

Pain shot through my head and for a moment I was stunned. I saw the blood spurt across the ice. One frayed line of dark blood. My vision blurred but I managed to get to my knees. Everything went in slow motion and the sounds of the world around me went quiet. I saw Tyler’s eyes and they were wide as he struggled to get up from the ice. I didn’t know he’d fallen with me and Salazar. That was when I realized the trail of blood seeping into the ice didn’t belong to me. That it was spurting from a deep wound to the side of Tyler’s neck.

All instincts kicked in. Fear. Panic. Determination. Loyalty. Friendship. I slid over to him but he had collapsed to his knees and was grabbing at this throat. He had ripped his gloves from his hands to get a better grip on the wound and when I reached him, I did the same.

I pressed my fingers over the wound, trying to stop the blood flow. But there was just so much blood and it wasn’t stopping.

“Hold on, buddy,” I cried, desperately trying to hold his wound together.

But I couldn’t stop the flow of blood. It spurted out over my fingers and splattered the ice in ruby red. Tyler looked up at me with wide, terrified eyes as he grabbed at my shirt, silently begging me to save him.

It took less than a minute for Tyler to bleed out. And that was where his life ended. Right there on the ice. With a gaping wound to his neck put there by his best friend.

*   *   *

Chapter One

Mackenzie

The smug look on my cousin’s face made me want to punch him right in the mouth. And if it wasn’t for the fact that he was one of my favorite people in the world—and the fact that we were in the middle of a business meeting—I might have done just that.

Instead, I turned to look at my boss.

“This isn’t fair,” I said, trying to not sound whiny but at the same time desperate to change his mind. “I’ve just worked my ass off the last eight months dealing with Ethan Valentine and saving the egotistical ass from losing his job.”

Ethan Valentine, a.k.a. Mr. Congeniality, was a star quarterback for the Napa Lightning NFL team.

And like I said, he was one egotistical ass.

He was also my client.

Right now, Ethan Valentine was drying out in a super-expensive rehabilitation facility in a New Mexico desert following a rather lascivious evening with two hookers, a bottle of Jack, and a pirate’s bounty of cocaine. It had landed him in jail. And added to his already stellar attempts at getting himself the worst reputation in the NFL, the League was ready to suspend him for bad behavior. It had been a nightmarish eight months for me.

I was also currently representing Daisy Jones—pop princess extraordinaire—and every teenage boy’s dream. On the outside, she was the All-American sweetheart. Honey blonde with bright blue eyes and dimples. She showed just enough skin to be tantalizing but kept enough covered to be appropriate. Well, in the media anyway. The stark reality of it was that Daisy Jones was a raving cocaine fiend with a penchant for taking her clothes off in nightclubs when she was dancing and high on drugs. Which, coincidentally, was most nights ending in ‘y’.

She was also gay. Which was a very well-kept secret.

I was all for her coming out. In fact, I encouraged it. But her manager and her strict Mormon parents were mortified at the idea and firmly put me back in my place—which was handling her endorsement deals and business ventures—not her life. It was hard to sit back and watch her spiral out of control because she was made to feel ashamed about who she really was, and forced to keep her true identity under wraps. Her manager, a yes-man called John Johnston, was a leading starmaker in the entertainment industry and even though he had made many superstars he was strictly old-school and didn’t think a controversial sex life would do Daisy’s image any good. He did my head in. And so did her lunatic father who had once forced her to turn down a multi-million dollar endorsement deal because he didn’t like that the business owner had once dated a porn star.

But despite the frustrations of dealing with two very big personalities, it had done nothing to diminish my love for the job. I was ready to sink my teeth into a new project and I knew exactly what I wanted that project to be . . .

. . . Purgatory.

Currently, the world’s number one MMA fighter and every sports agents dream. Rough, rugged and as fierce as wildfire, he was a massive star on the rise. He was also the latest entity to join the long list of prestigious clients at Eden, Fox & Coulter Management—one of the most successful and influential talent management agencies in the world…and my employer.

Hank Eden manned the helm. He had long since bought out the Fox and the Coulter of the business and now ran the successful agency with an absolute concrete fist. He was a remarkable spin-doctor. Fierce negotiator. And tough businessman.

He was also my father.

But that wasn’t how I got the job.

Nepotism meant nothing to my father. He didn’t care if you were family, a friend, fat, skinny, short, tall—you got hired on your smarts, your ability to think on your feet and how far you were prepared to go to keep your client happy and bring the money in.

His agency represented some big names. Rock stars. TV stars. Movie stars. Sports stars. Hell, one of his most lucrative contracts was with a porn star. He didn’t care what you did. If he saw the potential to make some serious coin from you, he would make you his project and earn you—and him—some big money.

His agency was a boutique agency. Each agent had no more than five clients. This was to ensure that every client got the TLC they felt they needed. It was a personalized approach, and it worked.

It’s what made him one of the most sought-after agents in the world. It was also why the biggest MMA fighter in the world, Purgatory, had just signed with him.

And after eight months of dealing with Ethan Valentine and his massive ego, and Daisy Jones’s unpredictable behavior, I deserved Purgatory.

The only problem…my father clearly didn’t agree and had just signed them over to Garrick, my charismatic cousin and best friend.

I frowned at Garrick, who shot me a smug look in return. So just like any professional agent would do, I flipped him the bird.

Garrick was the son of my father’s flighty sister, Arielle. She was a wannabe actress who had dumped Garrick on the doorstep of our New Orleans home when he was just four and I was five, assuring my parents that it would only be for a few weeks. That was nineteen years ago and she had never come back to collect him. Apparently she was somewhere in Las Vegas, or so the family grapevine suggested.

As a result, Garrick and I had grown up like brother and sister and were very close. He was my confidant. My best friend. My sounding board. He was also my biggest rival.

“Okay, let’s talk about Jake Pennington,” my father said, obviously keen to move things along.

This wasn’t a formal meeting, so I was surprised that he was bringing up another client. He had called us in for a meeting about Purgatory. Or so I thought.

“Who is Jake Pennington?” I sat back in my chair, still a little pissed at Garrick and my father.

“The hockey player,” Garrick replied. “You know, the one they call the Saskatoon Sasquatch because he is such a mountain of a man?”

My blank look told him I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t know hockey. Hell, I was from Louisiana. I grew up in New Orleans and went to college in Arizona. I didn’t see snow until I moved to New York seven months ago.

“He was considered one of the best players in the league up until a few months back.” My father slid the client file across his desk toward me. “When he accidentally killed his best friend with his skate.”

My eyes shot from the file to my father. “He what?”

“He accidentally cut his best friend’s throat with the blade of his skate,” Garrick explained.

“That’s terrible,” I gasped.

I looked at the two pictures in the file and the contrast was startling.

The first picture was of a big, confident hockey player with beautiful, sparkling eyes, a dimpled chin and a bright, cocky smile. Wow. I could see why they called him Sasquatch. He was a mountain of muscle, like nothing would get past him on the ice. According to his file he was six-foot-seven. He was also devastatingly handsome. And if I was really honest, I was kind of mesmerized by those magnetic eyes peering back at me from the picture.

The second picture was of a man who looked like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. While he was still broad, his buzz cut was now a dark mess while his beautiful face was lost behind a beard. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and the sparkle had gone from his eyes. He looked haunted.

My heart unexpectedly squeezed with anguish for him.

“So what are you planning to do with him?” I asked.

“Nothing. He’s being released from his contract.”

I lifted my eyes and they rounded on my father.

“Released from . . . you’re dumping him?” I couldn’t keep the dismay out of my tone. “After everything he’s been through?”

“He’s not interested in upholding his end of the contract. He’s requested the termination. He’s done,” my father said dismissively.

“He spends more time at the bottom of a bourbon bottle than anywhere else,” Garrick added. “It was only a matter of time. His family was killed in a plane crash two years ago and a year ago he killed his best friend. He’s in a bad head space.”

“No shit. Who wouldn’t be?” I couldn’t keep the disgust from my voice as I looked from my cousin to my father, and then back at my cousin again. “So, let me get this straight . . . this guy loses his entire family in a plane crash, then accidentally kills his best friend a year later and now you’re going to dump him. Are you freaking kidding me? What is wrong with you two?”

Dad fixed me with his wise eyes. “It’s business.”

“It’s bullshit, is what it is.” I shook my head and dropped my gaze to the beautiful eyes looking back at me from the photo.

“I’ve already organized the legal team to do up the paperwork,” my father explained and I couldn’t help the look of disapproval I gave him through my furrowed brow. It was a classic Eden move that I had clearly inherited from him.

I looked back to the second photograph. There was something about him that seemed . . . kindred.

I shook it off and quickly flicked through the file. Like I said, I didn’t know anything about hockey, but even I could see that this guy had been good.

No. He had been great.

When I looked back up, my father and Garrick were staring at me.

“I’ll take him on,” I said without thinking. “For the remainder of his contract.”

My father and Garrick just stared at me.

“I mean it. I will take him on. Give me a chance.”

“That’s ten weeks,” my father reminded me.

“Ten weeks?” I thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “I’ve got this.”

Garrick looked doubtful. His bright blue eyes sparkled across at me with amusement. “You will never pull it off.”

I hated being told that. Especially when I had something to prove. So I glared at him. “Just watch me.”

“You’re not NHL certified,” my father said.

Player agents needed to be NHL certified and to do so meant applying to the National Hockey League and completing an agent certification program. It was the same thing with the NFL, and I was NFL certified. I didn’t think getting my NHL certification was going to be a problem.

“You’re certified,” I reminded him. “I will fly under your flag until I complete the program. I can do that while I am getting to know Jake.”

“Good luck with that,” Garrick said. “He’s a recluse. Doesn’t let anyone in. Not even his friends. Spends most of his time holed-up at his fishing cabin in Canada. Believe me, Mack, we’ve spent the last nine months trying to bring him back to life. He’s not interested.”

I knew I should let it go. Jake wasn’t my problem. And after an exhausting eight months putting up with the egotistical brat otherwise known as Ethan Valentine, why would I willingly put myself through the drama of another exhausting athlete with a chip on their shoulder?

Because he is broken . . . just like you.

I glanced at the photograph of the bearded hockey player. “It’s amazing what you can do when someone else believes in you,” I whispered.

“Care to make it interesting?” Garrick asked.

My eyes shot to his. He had my attention. Ever since we were kids, we had been highly competitive toward one another.

“Absolutely. What were you thinking?”

“You get Jake back on the ice and in the Stanley Cup playoffs and with your father’s permission you can have the Purgatory contract.”

My cousin stared at me for a while, his arms folded across his chest as I considered the bet.

“And if I don’t?” I asked finally.

Garrick grinned wickedly. “You get Jake on a team and in the playoffs, or I get Charlie.”

My eyes went as round as saucers. Across the desk, a small hiss escaped my father’s poker face.

I shook my head. “No way!”

No.

Fucking.

Way.

Charlie was my prized 1969 Dodge Challenger. I had found her abandoned in an old Baton Rouge shed and then lovingly restored her (okay, so I had paid a mechanic to lovingly restore her). Currently, she resided on our family property in Louisiana. I loved her. Unfortunately, so did Garrick.

“C’mon, cousin. You were so confident a moment ago. What are you afraid of? You chicken?” He sing-songed.

I stood up. “I am not giving up Charlie!”

“You wont have to.” His eyes turned dark as they found mine and his expression was smug. “If you get Jake back in form.”

I looked away from Garrick to the picture of Jake still in my hand. He looked like life had handed him a big fuck you.

“Fine. It’s a deal.”

Garrick clapped his hands together with glee while my father shook his head.

“The odds are against you, kid,” he said. “The Ice Cats fired him and I don’t know if another team will be willing to take a chance on him. We’re already into the regular season. Trades have happened. Teams are solid. You’ll be lucky to find anyone willing to take him on this late in the game.”

“I’ll work it out,” I said with more confidence than I had. 

“It’s not going to be easy,” my father added.

I straightened my back, determined to show him how confident I was—even if it was a big fat lie.

“Good.” I said, grabbing my handbag off the back of the chair. “It will make me work harder.”

Then, winking at them both, I strutted out of the office.

*   *   *

As a sports agent, you had to wear a lot of hats. PR genius. Psychiatrist. Babysitter. Pimp.

 Tonight I was Mackenzie Eden, stalker.

Through various connections (a.k.a. my father), I knew Jake was in New York wrapping up some business dealings. He still had his apartment in Greenwich Village, and there was talk around the city that he was in town to put it up for sale. Further talk put him at the same bar, Squire Tucks, every night while he was in town. Apparently drowning in a bottle of bourbon.

Hearing this, I decided Squire Tucks was exactly where our meeting would take place.

After leaving my father and cousin in the exclusive office complex on the Upper West Side, I took a taxi to Gansevoort Street and slipped into the dark bar unnoticed.

Jake Pennington was already sitting at the bar. Alone. He didn’t look up when I walked in and when I stood next to him at the bar and ordered a red wine he didn’t even bother looking up from his phone. I gave him a quick sideways glance. Nothing. He was too busy flicking through pictures between sips of bourbon to notice me.

To continue my stalking undetected, I slid into one of the booths toward the back of the dimly lit bar, which gave me the perfect vantage point to observe Jake while I worked out my game plan.

As train wrecks went, Jake Pennington pretty much had it nailed. Slumped against the bar, he looked nothing like the finely tuned athlete he used to be. Nothing like the one the media and fans nicknamed Sasquatch. Sure, he was tall, with a broad back and thick arms, and his shoulders were still big and round. But he looked like he’d been run over repeatedly, and then some. His beard was scruffy along his jaw. His signature buzz cut hair was gone and now he wore it too long and messy. Not that you could see it under the Yankees cap glued to his head.

Drawing in a deep breath I slipped out of the booth and sat down on the bar stool next to him. Up close, he was . . . well, he was beautiful. His eyes were magnetic. Piercing. But they simply glanced at me as I sat next to him and then turned away from me, uninterested.

I didn’t take his lack of interest personally. I wasn’t prone to caring about people’s opinion of me, or if guys found me attractive. Especially guys drowning their sorrows in too much liquor in a seedy bar, somewhere between Chelsea and the Village.

I loosened my hair and did a quick check of my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. When I tapped Jake on the shoulder he turned back to me and I saw a flash of irritation in his eyes. Undeterred, I simply smiled and asked, “How about I buy you a drink?”

*   *   *

Chapter Two

Jake

It takes nine months to grow a life.

It took nine months to destroy mine.

With an overwhelming indifference I watched my ten-year career slip away from me, and the life I once knew simply disappear.

I hadn’t been on skates since Tyler had been killed and as a result I had lost my job. Not to mention all the endorsement deals I had leading up to the Stanley Cup.

Sports drinks. Men’s active wear. Hockey equipment. I had endorsed them all. I was every sports management team’s wet dream because I was so bankable. Not to mention, the fact that I’d endorse anything. If they paid me enough, of course. Hell, I’d even endorsed a men’s aftershave called, Baton Dur, which roughly translated into hard stick in English. That deal alone had netted me a cool three million.

But those days were gone.

Now, I didn’t care about any of it. Money. Career. Hockey. Life. Because I had lost everything important to me, like family and friends, so I deserved to lose the rest of it, too.

I squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to black out the memories. But feeling a little hazy from the bourbon, my emotional walls crumbled and the memories flooded in. Tyler’s pleading eyes. The spray of ruby red blood across the ice. Riding with Tyler’s body in the ambulance en route to St. Vincent’s. The look on Kit’s face when she arrived at the hospital.

My heart ached. Kit. Every night the same scene played out in my head.

Standing in the hospital corridor outside the ER where Tyler’s body lay. Kit sobbing against me. Her fists twisting in my jersey as she cried hard into my shoulder. If I wasn’t so numb—so completely and utterly devastated—I might have joined her. But I was too stunned to react. Too shocked to fully comprehend what was going on around me.  Only that this couldn’t be happening. That Tyler couldn’t be dead.

Kit suddenly paused, looking at my blood-spattered jersey, a horrified expression spreading across her face. She took a sudden step back, her wide eyes taking in the blood of her husband all over me.

“You did this,” she whispered, completely alarmed and taking a farther step away. “He’s dead and you killed him.”

 “Kit—” I reached for her but she flung me away.

“He’s dead because you were hungover and fell.”

“No, that’s not what happened—”

“Yes, it is. You fell and you cut his throat.”

She looked at me like I was scum.

“This is all your fault,” she suddenly cried. “All your fault!”

Kit’s best friend, Macy, stepped in and pulled her into her arms.

“Come on, Kit, you need to rest. Think of the baby.” Macy led her away from me. But Kit swung around one more time, her face a mask of tears and pain.

“He loved you. He goddamn loved you and what did you do? You fucking killed him!” She went for me then, crossing the space between us and pummeling me with her closed fists. “You killed him, you piece of shit! And now he will never know his baby girl. And she will never know how wonderful and brilliant her daddy was. Or how much he was looking forward to meeting her, protecting her, holding her . . . It’s all over, it’s all over because of you!”

Macy pulled her off me and dragged her away, and I watched with tears in my eyes as they disappeared down the corridor and around the corner. Gutted, I fell against the wall and slid to the tiled floor.

She was right, of course.

Tyler was dead and I had killed him.

If he hadn’t been late because of me, he would have been wearing his neck protection. But he’d forgotten to put it on. And he’d forgotten to put it on because of me.

Now he was dead.

As I drained the bourbon from my glass, a woman slid onto the stool beside me.

I glanced at her but turned back to the empty tumbler in my hands. Women. Just add them to the long list of things I had left behind. And this woman next to me would be no different. Even if she did have a face that made you double-take. Oh, yeah, I had noticed. She was smoking hot. But she could be the hottest woman on Earth and I still couldn’t care less.

Her voice surprised the hell out of me as she asked, “How about I buy you a drink?”

I glanced back at her and watched her signal for two drinks. There was something vaguely familiar about her and I wondered if I had nailed her? I let my eyes glitter over her again, taking in the luscious blonde hair, big brown eyes and . . . damn, she had some rack on her!

If I had any sense, I had to have at least tried whenever our paths had crossed.

But not recently. Definitely not recently.

“Mackenzie.” She introduced herself and handed me a shot of bourbon.

“Jake,” I replied accepting the shot glass. We clinked them over the bar before throwing them back. When she slammed her glass back down to the gleaming timber bar top she signalled to Pete for a refill.

I shook my head. “Oh, no. I’ve had about enough.”

I stood up and flicked a few bills onto the bar.

But blondie wasn’t taking no for an answer. She patted my stool. “Come on, Jake, have one more with me.”

One more and I’d be on my ass. But, hey, she was asking nicely. “Sure, why not.”

Again we clinked glasses and threw back our shots, and then I was ready to leave. But as I shook off the heat and aftertaste of the bourbon, it occurred to me that I knew her, I just didn’t know how. 

“Do I know you?” I asked, again taking in the beautiful contours of her lovely face and the intriguing way her lips pulled to the side as she smiled. She grinned and damn if I didn’t feel that grin all the way down to my balls.

She smiled and leaned in close. “No. But as of two hours ago, I became your agent.”

*   *   *

Chapter Three

Mackenzie

I woke up with an angry kink in my neck and a puzzled Jake Pennington standing over me.

“Um, look…” He ran an uncomfortable hand through his hair as he shifted on his feet. He was in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms, and damn if he didn’t have the finest set of abs on him. 

“You’re going to have to go,” he said.

It took me a moment to realize what was happening. I was on the couch and Jake was asking me to leave.

I sat up and immediately felt the brain-shattering aftermath of too much bourbon hit me in the head. The last thing I remembered was drinking way too much at the bar with Jake. At first he had been hesitant to talk, but after a few more shots he had begun to open up. In fact, we had gotten fall-down drunk together. Hell, we had made plans!

Now he was kicking me out.

What happened to new starts and all that? Where were the ‘fresh starts’ and the ‘new beginnings’ we had talked about after shots five and six?

“Just tell me if I owe you any money,” Jake said, looking uncomfortable again.

I blinked up at him. “Money? For what?”

Then it hit me. He thought I was a hooker.

I grabbed the cushion my face had been mashed against only a few moments earlier, and with a skill Peyton Manning would be proud of, threw it at his head. Clearly surprised and completely lacking in motor skills, he tried to avoid it and stumbled into the wall.

“You think I’m a prostitute?” I exclaimed, standing up. “Dude, I’m wearing jeans and a Hello Kitty shirt. Seriously?”

He looked a little bewildered. Not to mention hungover. With a side serving of washed up. But damn, those abs were a distraction.

“You’re not . . .ummm?”

I gave him a look that left little doubt.

“Okay. Then who are you?” he asked.

The clear look of confusion across his unshaven face told me that he still didn’t remember our conversation from last night.

I rolled my eyes. With a few shots of bourbon and half a bottle of wine banging against my brain, it was harder to cope with the train wreck that was Jake Pennington. I stood up, noticing the way his eyes rolled over me, sliding down from my boobs to my flat stomach, across to my slim hips and down my legs. He was checking me out.

“Who am I? Jake, do you remember anything about last night?”

Like seriously?

The look on his face told me that he didn’t have a clue.

The professional in me wanted to make him a cup of coffee, sit him down, and tell him to pull his shit together. 

But the bad girl in me wanted to fuck with him a little.

And if I’m honest, my inner bad girl was a little stronger today thanks to seven or eight shots of bourbon and a glass or two of wine jackhammering against my skull.

I licked my lips and shook my hair. Then adopting my most seductive moves in my non-existent catalog of sexy moves, I slinked across the room to where he was leaning up against the wall taking me all in. As I got closer, he braced himself, clearly anxious about what I was about to do. Was I a crazy fan? A one-night stand who wasn’t ready to leave just yet?

When I reached him I leaned in close until there was less than an inch of air between us and I felt him stiffen.

Leaning in as if I was going to kiss him, I whispered in his ear, “I’m your agent, asshole.”

*   *   *

Jake

My agent?

What. The. Fuck.

Because I didn’t know what else to do I ran a hand through my hair and pinched the bridge of my nose. Damn this hangover. None of this made sense.

I watched the beautiful blonde woman watching me. She had just ordered me into the shower like she was my goddamn coach. Was she kidding me?

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, her hands on her hips. “You need to hit the shower, have a shave, and get your shit together, Jake.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

“I think we’ve already established who I am. Damn it, Jake. You need to pull yourself together.”

Broken fragments from the previous night slowly pieced together in my brain. We had been sitting at the bar in Squire Tucks. This blonde had sat down next to me, offered to buy me a drink and . . . wait! Was this chick for real? Was she really my agent?

I grabbed my phone off the table by the front door and scrolled through looking for Hank’s number.

“What are you doing?” I’m-your-agent asked, looking at me as if she was irritated by the very thought of me drawing a breath.

“I’m ringing Hank. For all I know, you’re some crazy chick who likes to go around telling people she is their agent.”

“Why on Earth would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know. But I gave up being surprised by what people do and why they do it a long time ago.”

She didn’t get up or race for the door. Which was a good sign. Instead she flopped down on the couch and crossed her legs.

Her long legs.

“Sure. Go ahead,” she challenged.

Selecting Hank’s number, I hit CALL. 

Within three rings he answered. “Jake? How you doin’, buddy?”

“Not good . . . listen I’ve got this woman here and she’s claiming to be my agent. Her name is Mandy or Mindy —”

“It’s Mackenzie, genius,” the cute blonde barked from the couch.

Cute blonde? Oh, hell no…

I made a face at her and she rolled her eyes back at me.

Hank’s distinctive voice brought me back to the present. “Mackenzie? Yeah, Jake, that’s my daughter. She’ll be looking after you for a spell.”

His what . . . ?

And she’d be doing what . . . ?

“Listen, I’m just on my way into a meeting. Can we talk about this later? I will call you as soon as I am free.”

Hank Eden was your quintessential sports agent. He knew how to talk the talk and bamboozle you by talking fast.

“But I—”

“I promise. We’ll talk soon. But in the meantime hang out with Mackenzie for a bit. Get to know your new agent.”

“Hank, I don’t need—”

“But watch out. She may be small in stature but she’s sure got some fire in that mouth of hers.”

I glanced at Mackenzie who was grinning victoriously at me.

“You don’t say,” I replied.

“Okay, I will talk to you soon, pal.” He rang off, leaving me more confused than before.

Hank had given my account to his daughter?

When I placed my phone on a nearby table, Mackenzie looked pleased with herself and smiled across at me, smugly.

“Everything okay?” she asked sweetly.

“Apparently, you are my new agent.”

Her sweetness vanished. “No shit, Sherlock.” She stood up and there were those long legs again. It was almost impossible not to notice them as she walked over to me and thrust her hands back on her slim hips. “So what are we going to do about it?”

 “We?” I raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, no. There is no we.” I backed away from her. “Just like there is no hockey. No sports career. No nothing. You understand me, lady? I ain’t interested.”

She straightened and by the look on her face, the chances of her letting this go were about the same as the sun not setting tonight. Impossible.

“Why are you being so difficult?” she asked.

“Why are you being so damn pushy?” I asked back.

She rummaged around her handbag for a moment before pulling out a crumpled picture and handing it to me.

It was a picture of me. A very unflattering picture of me, actually…leaving a bar late one night, obviously sozzled and looking worse for wear. I squinted and held it closer. Hell, not just sozzled—I looked like shit.

Sadness swept through me. Yeah, I remembered that night.

I also remembered how that image had been mercilessly plastered across magazines and other news media, and how they’d called me broken, washed up, and a drunk.

Without a word I handed it back to her.

Her face softened. “I want to help you, Jake.”

I studied her for a moment but said nothing and turned away. I wasn’t going to wait around to see the pity in her eyes. I’d seen more than my share of pity over the past nine months and I hated it.

“Look. We can make this work,” she said.

“Really?” I replied. “Because I’m pretty sure that we’re not going to do anything.”

“That’s because you’re being stubborn.”

I decided to ignore her. “I’m going to have a shower. Don’t forget to lock the door on your way out.”

I started to walk away. But she followed.

All the way to the bathroom.

“You know, despite being a bit rough around the edges with the whole manners thing, you’re actually a pretty nice guy.”

I kept walking. “So are you.”

“And a comedian, too. Apparently.” She sighed. “Look, let’s just meet over dinner and talk about this.”

I turned around to face her. “I’m about to have a shower.”

But she ignored me. “You might like what I have to say.”

“Seriously. I’m about to get naked now.”

Again she ignored me. “How about I pick you up at seven?”

So I dropped my sweats to my ankles.

If I thought that was going to get a response, I was wrong.

She stalled but her eyes never left mine as she pressed her lips together. “You’re naked, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

She folded her arms. “Is that supposed to shock me?”

“I don’t know. Are you shocked?”

“Are you kidding me? After eight months with Ethan Valentine, not a lot shocks me anymore.”

I just looked at her blankly. Well, maybe not so blankly. There was probably a bit of smugness in my expression because I was pretty sure she was dying to look. But she was battling some kind of inner war taking place behind those beautiful brown eyes of hers. Pride versus curiosity. I could see it written all over her stiff face.

“I’m about to turn around and walk to the shower, and when I get there I am going to turn around again. That means you are going get an eyeful if you don’t leave.”

 “Fine.” She unfolded her arms. “But this isn’t over.”

“Oh, I assure you, this is over.” And with those parting words I slid the bathroom door closed between us.

Was I being a douche? Probably. Did I care? Probably not. Although, I wasn’t usually one for being rude. It was kind of a pet peeve of mine. Yet this . . . this woman . . . ugh . . . she was acting as if I was one drink away from catching the train to Loserville and it pissed me off.

Seriously, one picture of me looking rough and the world thought I was drowning in a bottomless pit of alcohol and self-pity.

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The picture she had shown me had been taken after I’d finished a fifth of liquor because it had been my father’s birthday and birthdays were always the worst for me. They were a constantly cruel reminder of what I had lost and every year I coped the same way—by getting nice and toasted with my good friend, Jack Daniel’s.

Last night would have been my sister Michelle’s twentieth birthday. If she had lived, she would’ve been a co-ed somewhere enjoying the highs and lows of college life, and damn if the swell of pain wasn’t excruciating every time I thought about the things she would never get to experience.

The last time I had taken a drink before that had been on what would have been my mom’s birthday. Otherwise, I didn’t drink. Unless I was out at the Moose Lake cabin. Being in Canada, it was so damn cold there that sometimes the alcoholic burn was the only thing to warm me up.

Otherwise, I tried not to turn to alcohol to get me through the despair of losing Tyler.

Not that the world believed it.

Or, apparently, my new agent.

*   *   *

Chapter Four

Mackenzie

Riding the subway home from Jake’s apartment, my mind wasn’t far from the dumbass hockey player. Maybe Garrick was right. Maybe he was a lost cause. Because if he didn’t want to help himself, how the hell was I going to get his drunk ass off the floor and back on his feet again?

And what was with getting naked in front of me?

Gazing across the aisle my eyes fell to the guy reading the newspaper. For a moment I just stared, my mind still consumed with Jake and what an ass he was, before I realized what I was staring at. The headline read: Galveston Fury in Second Scandal.

I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes, trying to read the article. Unfortunately the owner of the newspaper thought I was checking him out. He lowered the paper and grinned, wiggling his fuzzy eyebrows at me. I shook my head and mouthed a firm, “No” to which he simply shrugged and went back to reading.

I got off the subway and bought the paper from the closest newsstand to Eden, Fox & Coulter.

Garrick was with my father in his office.

“Someone didn’t go home last night,” he grinned, his bright eyes twinkling over my Hello Kitty T-shirt. “Your meeting with Jake Pennington go that well?”

“You’re so funny. I’m absolutely keeling over with laughter on the inside.” I gave him a pointed look. “While you were busy counting your chickens before they hatched, I was busy making sure that I win this bet.”

“Oh, yeah, and how do you plan on doing that?”

I slapped the newspaper down in front of my father.

“Galveston Fury in Second Scandal,” he read the headline and accompanying byline. “Four players, including star defense, benched for end of season ensures bottom of the leader board for embattled NHL team.”

He dropped the newspaper to his desk and smiled at me. My father was quick at the math. That was why he was the best in the business.

My cousin, on the other hand, needed a little more encouragement.

Garrick picked up the newspaper, arching an eyebrow in my direction. “Galveston Fury? As in Galveston, Texas?”

I nodded.

“Do they even have ice hockey in Texas?”

“Yes, asshole.”

He held up his arms as if it was an honest question. “Hey, I didn’t even know it snowed in Texas.” He threw the newspaper back down and leaned against the desk, folding his arms. He wore black suspenders over a white shirt, and looked every bit the southern gentleman he was. “I’m intrigued, cousin. How is the Galveston Fury going to save Jake Pennington?”

I grinned. “They’re not. He’s going to save them.”

*   *   *

Home was a loft I shared with two brats called Meg and Anna. Meg was your quintessential twenty-five-year-old man-eater, while Anna’s tastes were more controversial.

I’d gone to college with Meg in Phoenix and when I’d moved to New York she had invited me to share the Chelsea loft with her and Anna, whom she had met through work. Anna and I hit it off straight away and as a result, we three were as tight as sisters.

Desperate for a shower, I walked up to the front door and was about to unlock it when it opened and Anna appeared in the doorway with a beautiful blonde girl attached to her mouth. Well, I think she was beautiful. It was hard to tell when she was all over Anna’s face, kissing her so hungrily it felt like I’d walked into the middle of a bad porno.

Realizing I was there, Anna pulled away and smiled.

“Sorry, Mack. We were just saying goodbye,” Anna said sheepishly. “Gemma, meet my roommate, Mack. Mack, meet Gemma.”

Her blonde date smiled at me with kiss-swollen lips. “Hey, Mack.”

“Hey.” I nodded.

She looked from me to Anna. “So I’ll see you later?”

By the way Anna hustled her farther through the front door, I didn’t like Gemma’s chances.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it,” I said, brushing past them.

Inside I found my other roommate, Meg, at the kitchen counter pouring fresh coffee.

“If you pour me one of those I will love you forever.” I promised her as I slumped against the counter.

“You look like I feel, rough night?” Meg asked, placing a cup of black coffee in front of me.

“You could say that.” I hungrily took a sip of my coffee and let the bliss of that first mouthful settle across my alcohol-marinated brain. The hit was instant and I sighed. “What about you? Why are you so tired?”

Meg rolled her eyes and gestured toward Anna who was closing the front door. “Thanks to Jemma Jamieson over there, I got zero sleep.”

Anna joined us at the kitchen counter, grinning. “Hey, don’t blame me. I didn’t know she was going to be so vocal.”

“Vocal is not the word, Anna. The girl was a screamer.” Meg put her cup on the counter and gripped the edge as she mimicked Anna’s date. “Oh, Anna, oh, Anna, harder, yes, Anna . . . oh, God, Anna . . . I’m going to come . . . I’m going to come . . .” Meg relaxed and shook her head. “I’m in my room screaming ‘just come already so we can all get some fucking sleep’!”

Anna laughed. “What can I say?”

“How about sorry?” Meg suggested, sipping her coffee.

Anna held out her arms. “Can I help it if I am such a good lay?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Speaking of a good lay . . .” She looked at me. “Why are you just getting home now? Did your date with the hockey player go that well?”

“Oooh, yeah, the hockey player,” Anna said, settling into her chair as if she was getting ready for a really good story.

I shook my head. “It wasn’t a date.”

Meg and Anna traded glances.

“Really? Are we teenagers?” I said, pulling them up.

“Okay, then. So this isn’t some walk of shame?” Meg made circles with her index finger as she pointed at me. “You walking in here at midday, wearing the same outfit you wore out last night to meet the hot hockey player?”

“I slept on his couch,” I said, keen to shut down whatever was about to happen.

Anna leaned in, her big almond-shaped eyes flashing across at me. “Does he have a big dick?”

That was typical Anna. Straight to the important questions.

“How would I know?” I shook my head. “Why would I want to know? He’s my client, remember?”

“What’s his name again?” Anna asked picking up her iPad from the kitchen counter.

“Jake Pennington.”

“Is he hot?” Meg asked. “Hockey players are hot. All of them. I think it’s the uniform, it’s so manly and sexy. They look so big and rough.”

“I don’t know. I was too blinded by his winning personality to notice,” I lied. Of course I noticed. Jake was in-your-face gorgeous. I just wasn’t prepared to admit it.  “He’s an ass.”

“And he’s got a hot ass,” Anna said flipping her iPad around to show us a picture of Jake she’d found on the Internet.

“Wow . . . that’s your hockey player?” Meg cooed, grabbing the iPad from Anna. “Seriously, you spent the night on his couch and nothing happened? Really?”

“Really.”

“Damn. I would’ve totally climbed that man like a tree,” Anna said, snatching her iPad back.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Babe, you’re gay.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not gay.” She grinned. “I’m greedy.”

Meg and I looked at her questioningly.

“What? I like cock. I just happen to like pussy better.” She turned her attention back to her iPad.

“When was the last time you had sex with a guy?” Meg asked her.

Anna shrugged. “Two weeks ago.”

We both looked at her like she was an alien.

“What about you, Meg? When was the last time?” I asked.

She grinned. “Yesterday. With Troy.”

“Who is Troy?” Anna asked.

“That hot waiter from Mancini’s.”

“Oooh, yeah, he’s hot,” Anna agreed, still skimming through the iPad.

“What happened to Sven?” I asked.

“I decided to stop seeing him because his cock was too big.”

“Is there such a thing?” Anna asked.

Meg used her hands to indicate his length.

“No way!” Anna balked.

“I know, right? Seriously, it was like an anaconda trying to get into an anthole.”

“Too much cock for me,” Anna said before turning back to the iPad and flicking through pictures of Jake.

“I did try to stick it out though,” Meg continued. “But the last time we had sex he told me I was as tight as a little girl, and that was it for me. Like seriously, he thought that was something sexy to say? I couldn’t even finish after that. Ugh! Sometimes people should just shut the fuck up during sex.”

Anna and I nodded in agreement.

“Although, I don’t mind some nasty smut-talk when it’s actually sexy,” Meg added.

Again, Anna and I nodded in agreement.

“You should do your hockey player,” Meg said, leaning forward on the counter and smiling conspiratorially at me.

“Um, no, thanks.”

“Why not?” She asked.

“I do okay hooking up on my own, I don’t need to be the next PR crisis management with one of my clients,” I said.

Who was I kidding? It’d been weeks since I’d been laid.

Alright. Months.

Okay, it was last year sometime.

No wait. There was the college kid on the flight from Arizona to New York. What was his name? We’d flirted, thrown back a few tequila shots with beer chasers and then made out in the dim light of the plane. When we’d landed we’d found a motel nearby and spent the rest of the night fucking each other crazy. 

Fuck, what was his name?

How could I forget the college kid? He was solid. Hours of boxing practice paid off and I got the benefit of his athleticism. Twice. His cock had been huge and . . . okay, that’s why I forgot about him. College kid had a finger that liked the back door and I didn’t care how hot you were, you weren’t putting anything up there. Not that I had a problem with other people doing it—I mean, whatever floats your boat, right?—it’s just me personally who wants to throat punch anyone who tries that move on me.

I’d skipped out on him before sunlight hit the street, feeling satisfied but anxious to put the encounter behind me. I guess you could say it was all part of the reckless behavior that had peaked following the incident.

My therapist would say it was me trying to reclaim my life back. To recapture the girl I had once been—frightened of nothing and living life on a whim. Recapture the girl I’d been before a delusional co-ed called Derek Jones developed a crazy obsession with me and decided I was his one.

Before him, I had been a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. Happy. Outgoing. Friendly. Confident. Then Derek had entered my life like a wrecking ball, and almost broke me with his lunatic behavior and stalkerish craziness. It all culminated in one horrific night that left me reeling and put me on a plane with a one-way ticket to New York City.

I shook off the memory. As a rule, I didn’t think about Derek anymore. It was the only way I could cope and move forward with my life.

I slid off the stool. I needed to shower and wash away my hangover. But as I passed through the living room I decided to text Jake and try one more time to see if we could meet to discuss his contract. Maybe over dinner.

I sank into the couch and texted him.

Me:Are you still in town?

Surprisingly, he texted me straight back.

Jake: Who is this?

I grinned.

Me:Am I going to have to establish who I am every time we talk? This is your Hello Kitty T-shirt-wearing hooker.

I could almost hear his groan from here.

Jake:How did you get my number?

My shower would have to wait.

Me:Seriously?

Jake:Forget I asked. What do you want?

Me:Are you busy?

Jake:I’m jizzing on the couch.

I looked at my phone. What the fuck?

Me:Ewwww. TMI, dude.

Jake: WTF…?

Jake: Jizzing. Im jizzing on the couch.

Me:Oh, that clears it up.

Jake:Chilling! CHILLING on the couch! Stupid autocorrect.

Me:Sure. Blame autocorrect.

Jake:Autocorrect is evil.

I laughed out loud, vaguely aware of my roomies watching me.

Me: Dude, how often do you write jizzing?

Jake:Obviously too much.

I shook my head and chuckled.

Me:I don’t want to know. Are you busy? Can we talk? Dinner perhaps?

Jake:I’m masturbating chicken breasts.

What. The?

Me:Uh, ok. I will leave you alone with your chicken breasts then.

Jake: oh, fuck me!

Jake: Marinating. I’m MARINATING chicken breasts.

Me:Sure. Masturbating and jizzing…totally makes sense now.

Jake: My phone is possessed.

Me:Your phone is hilarious.

I looked up and both Meg and Anna were looking at me like I was the most intriguing thing in the world.

“What?”

“You should see the smile on your face,” Meg said.

“I’ve never seen you grin so big,” Anna added.

I rolled my eyes. “Autocorrect has turned his phone into a smut-talking masturbator. It was funny, is all.”

My roommates shared a knowing look.

Whatever.

My phone buzzed again.

Jake: If I promise not to masturbate chicken breasts and jizz on the couch, wanna join me?

I read his message and then read it again. I had expected resistance. I had expected a challenge.  I had expected him to be a giant pain in the ass. What I hadn’t expected was a dinner invitation.

Before he found his cranky pants again and reneged on his invitation, I quickly typed my response.

Me:I can honestly say I never thought anyone would ask me to dinner quite like that.

Jake:What can I say? I’m one of a cunt.

Me:Just for the record, you said it . . . not me.

Jake: FML

I fought with the laughter bubbling inside of me. At least my crazy hockey player still had a hint of humor left in him.

Me: I’m surprised by your change of heart.

Jake: Your father is quite persuasive.

I should’ve known. He had spoken to Hank.

Me: What did my old man have to say?

Jake: That I should leave my dick open for you.

I couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of me.

Me:I’m pretty sure my father doesn’t want me anywhere near your dick.

Jake: DOOR. My DOOR.

Jake:I hate my phone

Me:I love your phone. If your phone was a guy, I’d date it.

Jake: You’re sexy.

Me:Thank you.

Jake: You’re sick. SICK.

Jake: Fuck. Of course that happened.

Me:On my way. See you in 20.

Jake:Dick is open.

Jake: Fuck my lifesaver.

Jake: Autocorrect hates me.

Unable to stop laughing, I ignored the interested stares of my roommates and went to my room to quickly shower. Afterwards I brushed my hair back into a high ponytail, slipped into my favorite pair of worn jeans, a tank and a figure-hugging, zip-up jacket and pulled on my knee-highs. Twenty minutes later I rushed out the door, squishing down the part of me that was suddenly excited about seeing Jake again.

*   *   *

Chapter Five

Jake

I was trying to figure out how to turn off the traitorous autocorrect on my phone when there was a knock at my door.

I sighed. An hour or so and this would all be over. I would do what Hank had asked me to do—which was humor my new agent—and then after dinner I would call him and my contract would be terminated.

I had no interest in keeping an agent. I didn’t need one. My days as a professional athlete were done. I already owed Hank thousands of dollars and terminating my contract early was going to cost me a truckload of cash. So when Hank said he was willing to call it even if I did this one thing for him, I had accepted it gratefully. My bank balance had taken some serious knocks over the past nine months. With no income, my expenses had all but drained my nest egg.

There was a second knock on the door and this time it sounded impatient.

Why didn’t that surprise me?

When I opened it, I found Mackenzie standing back from the door with one hand clamped over her eyes. “Please tell me you have clothes on,” she begged.

I leaned against the doorframe and folded my arms across my chest. “Because I have a habit of opening my door completely naked?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” she retorted, raising one arm out in front of her as if she was feeling her way through the dark.

“Are you feeling for something in particular?” I asked.

“You didn’t answer my question. I’m just checking it’s safe.”

“By reaching out and grabbing onto my possibly naked body?” I couldn’t help but smile. “What is it exactly that you’re trying to grab onto?”

She giggled. “I’m checking for clothes.”

She wasn’t close enough to check for anything.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to take a chance and look,” I said, unable to control the amusement spreading through me.

Mackenzie let her hand drop to her side and opened her eyes, and I was momentarily stopped by how attractive she was. In my hangover I’d forgotten the head of blonde hair, the big brown eyes and the dimples that creased her cheek every time she smiled. But now, standing in my doorway, I felt that incredible smile of hers ripple right through me.

“Phew!” she said brightly as she swept her gaze up and down the length of me. But then her eyes narrowed mischievously. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, you know, with your pant-dropping habit and all.”

I flashed her a sarcastic smile. “You’re hilarious.”

She grinned and dropped her eyes to my phone. “Teaching it more bad manners?”

I sighed. “Seriously, you’re killing me with comedy.”

She shrugged. “Can I come in?”

I stepped aside and watched as she looked around my apartment.

“Wow, something smells incredible.” She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. And I couldn’t help but notice she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a jacket that did nothing to hide how petite she was. She slipped off her backpack and slung it over the back of a dining chair.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I said, closing the door behind me and walking over to the kitchen counter.

“I’m starving.”

“Good. Because I’ve cooked for an army.” I held up an open bottle of wine. “Drink?”

Mackenzie looked up from studying the huge painting above the mantel and nodded. “Yes, please.”

I took out two glasses from the cabinet below the counter and filled them until the bottle was empty, then joined her at the fireplace.

“I love this picture. Who painted it?” she asked, accepting the glass of wine.

“I got it from a local artist at the market.”

“It’s fascinating.” She smiled as she studied it again and I couldn’t help but watch those dimples flicker beside those luscious lips.

She caught me staring and took a quick sip of her wine. Her eyes shifted to the packed boxes that lined the far wall, and then cast around the room, noticing the sheets covering the rest of the furniture in the apartment.

“Has this place sold already?” she asked, and I didn’t even question how she knew my place was on the market. Of course she knew. She probably knew my underwear size, too.

“Not yet. But I’m going out of town while it’s on the market,” I replied. I couldn’t wait to get out of New York and retreat to the only place I felt like I belonged.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to stay at my grandfather’s cabin out at Moose Lake.”

“Moose Lake?”

“Canada.”

She nodded, and then decided to end the small talk. “Jake, I want to help you get back on the ice.”

I looked at her blankly. Not expecting her to launch into her arguments so quickly.  “Wow, you’re pretty much straight to the point, aren’t you?”

She shrugged. “Why beat around the bush?”

But I wasn’t keen to talk business. Suddenly I wanted to pretend that that wasn’t why she was here.

“Well, I vote we eat before we discuss business,” I said as I walked back to the kitchen and began serving up dinner.

She watched as I pulled out plates and cutlery. “What can I do to help?” she asked, leaning a hip against the counter. “But I am warning you, I basically burn water, so don’t give me anything that may end up with us calling in for pizza.”

“You don’t cook?”

“I’m lucky if I can make coffee.”

She smiled that amazing dimpled smile of hers and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Here.” I handed her two large plates. “If you take those to the table, I’ll bring the chicken cacciatore.”

She carried the plates over to set the dinner table and sat down. I joined her, bringing a casserole dish of chicken cacciatore straight out of the slow cooker.

“Oh, my God, that smells so good!” she said as I placed it down on the table in front of her. I handed her the large serving spoons to help herself while I went to the oven to collect the risotto I was heating up. I’d picked it up from Mancini’s after inviting Mackenzie for dinner.

I grabbed another bottle of wine from the wine rack under the kitchen counter and when I got back to the table I was surprised to see her plate was almost full of food. The girl had an appetite and it was oddly refreshing.

“This looks amazing, Jake,” she said as I topped off our wine.

“Thanks.” I sat down across from her, noting the subtly of her perfume as I passed by her, my mind desperately trying to ignore how it made me want to press my face to her skin so I could inhale it from the warmth of her body.

Jesus Christ, what is wrong with me?

I swallowed deep. I didn’t think those things anymore.

“Dig in.” I nodded at her full plate.

She smiled, and again those dimples creased either side of her sweet smile and there were parts of me that tingled. Parts of me that had laid dormant for the past nine months. I looked away and took a hearty mouthful of my wine.

“This is really good,” she said with her mouth half full.

I grinned but said nothing. I loved that she was so at ease around me. I was used to women trying to impress me. Out to dinner they ate salads. Or they were never hungry. I imagined Mackenzie, on the other hand, would dive in head first into a burger and come up with sauce and cheese all over those glorious lips.

Oh, fuck. 

One thing I was learning quick about Mackenzie was that she didn’t hold back. She had barely finished her first mouthful when she brought up hockey again.

“Jake, I think I can get you back in the championships,” she said boldly.

I took another sip of wine and decided to humor her. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

She rummaged through her backpack until she found what she was looking for. Looking proud, and with way more smugness than the moment warranted, she smacked a newspaper down on the table between us.

She said nothing. And for a moment we just stared at one another.

“Well?” she finally asked.

I gave a little shake of my head. “It’s a newspaper.”

She rolled her eyes and then pointed to the headline. Galveston Fury in Second Scandal.

“Those players are one more indiscretion away from vanishing in a whirlwind of sex, drugs, and bad choices.” She held up the paper and this time actually handed it to me, which I accepted with as little enthusiasm as possible.

“They need a halo over their name,” she continued. And when I said nothing, she sighed. “That would be you, Jake.”

I looked from the paper. “Me? A halo?” I shook my head, dropping the paper and dismissing it.  “I don’t think so.”

But Mackenzie pointed a finger at it. “They are in desperate need of a miracle. Don’t you see? You could be their miracle.”

Me? A miracle? Hardly.

“It makes sense,” she said.

I don’t know why I picked up the newspaper and began to read it. Maybe it was the passion in her argument. Because it was obvious she really believed in what she was saying. So I kind of felt compelled to at least read the damn thing.

Christ. The team was a mess. I’d never really had a lot to do with the Galveston Fury during my career. They were in a different conference and had never made it to any of the championship playoffs. We’d played them only a few times during the regular season and had handed their asses to them. It wasn’t hard, if memory served. Their reputation for sloppy play and unprofessional conduct off the ice had always preceded them.

When I read the latest scandal about one of their defensemen being arrested for being drunk and disorderly in public, it pretty much confirmed every suspicion I had about them being sloppy. The article read like a rap sheet of offenses.

Following their defensemen’s drunk and disorderly fiasco, their left winger got caught up in a cocaine bust the very next week. Partying at an ex-NFL star’s mansion, he’d had too much of a good time, and when the police had busted in, the left winger had been in a tub full of hookers and so high all he could say was, “I’m Batman.”

As if things couldn’t get any worse for the team, their captain was arrested soon after when his nineteen-year-old girlfriend turned out to be fifteen. And pregnant.

I dropped the newspaper down on the table.  This team was a mess.

“Seriously, Z? These guys don’t need a miracle. They need Betty Ford.”

Z?

I didn’t know where the unexpected nickname came from; it just fell from my lips. Being around Mackenzie was easy. Too easy.

“Do I need to spell this out, Jake?” she asked.

I folded my arms, amused. “I guess you do.”

She rested her arms on the table and leaned forward like she meant business. “When they see that you’re still in form—hell, they’ll fall all over themselves to make an offer.”

She sat back in her seat and looked smug, her eyes bright and her smile beaming.

I stared at her for a moment. Wait. That was it? That was her grand argument?

My God, this woman was adorable.

I decided to play along. “And how do you know I am in form?”

“You’re good, Jake. I’ve seen you play. That doesn’t just go away overnight.”

It was a cheesy response but when my eyes met hers and I saw the sincerity there my face softened and an unexpected warmth spread through me. I sat back, unable to take my eyes off her.

Thankfully her cell beeped, breaking the spell. 

When she reached into her jacket for her phone something fell out of her pocket and slapped to the floor. She quickly reached for it but I beat her to it.

Laughter rippled through me as I held up a mini-version of Hockey For Dummies.

“Really? This belongs to you?” I laughed. “My agent?”

“I grew up in New Orleans,” she replied defensively.

“And?”

“Hockey wasn’t a big deal in my house.”

I chuckled and opened the book up to a random page. Amused, I started to read. “Saucer Shot. Occurs when the puck is passed from one player to the other in such a manner it resembles a flying saucer.” I looked at her over the top of the book. “Jesus Christ! Really?”

She snatched it away from me. “So I don’t know that much about hockey!”

“This coming from someone who wants to be my agent.”

She sat up straight and gave me a big grin making me instantly suspicious.

“What?” I asked.

“You called me your agent.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Nuh-huh.” I shook my head. “I said, and I quote, ‘someone who wants to be my agent’ unquote.”

“Not just now.” Her grin was from ear to ear. “But before, when you asked—and I quote—‘this belongs to you? My agent?’”

I peeled back the minutes and damnit, she was right. So I quickly changed the subject.

“So tell me, Z . . . did you learn anything from your mini-me encyclopedia of hockey?” I asked, adoring the way her cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink.

“Sure,” she said, returning the book to the inner breast pocket of her jacket. “Page one: hockey players called Jake Pennington can be jerks and should be handled with caution.”

“Awwwwww, c’mon, Z . . . I’m just teasing you.”

She raised her chin. “Why do you keep calling me Z?”

“I guess I’m lazy.” I shrugged. “Or do you prefer, Mack? Instead of Z?”

“I suppose Mackenzie is out of the question?”

“It’s a long name. I could run out of breath before I reach the end of it.”

She scoffed. “Because Pennington is so much shorter.”

I grinned. Because for the first time in months I was actually enjoying myself.

“This could work, Jake.” She held my gaze as she spoke. “You and The Fury—it’s a good fit.”

“Oh, yeah, and what makes you so sure?”

She thought for a moment. “I have a degree on my wall that says so.”

I leaned back in my chair and laced my fingers behind my head. “A college degree does not a sports agent make.”

“No. But three years in law school is a pretty good start, don’t you think?”

“You’re a lawyer?” I don’t know why I was surprised. Considering her ability for talking.

“If I want to be.”

“So why aren’t you?”

“Because I want to do this.”

“You want to babysit a washed-up hockey player?”

Sadness rippled across her face. “You’re not washed up, Jake. You just need to find your way back.” Again, she pointed to the newspaper headline. “And this is your way back.”

I looked away. I didn’t like the way her beautiful eyes filled with empathy. Or the way I noticed the sweet beauty of her face as she looked at me, as if she could somehow understand the pain that coursed through my heart on a daily basis. Because the thought that this beauty could understand even the smallest amount of my pain made me unhappy.

“You may be right, Mackenzie. But at the end of the day, I just don’t want to play hockey again.” I stood up and collected the plates from the table and took them to the sink.

Sensing I was done talking about it, Mackenzie rose from her chair and joined me in the kitchen. The mood had plummeted.

“When do you leave for Canada?” she asked.

“Tomorrow.”

She studied a fleck of granite on the bench top before raising her head to look at me. “Are you coming back?”

I shook my head. “I’m done, Z.”

She nodded and for a moment I saw the look of defeat wash over her face. And damn, why did that make me feel like I was breaking up with her?

But one blink and that look was gone.

“Thanks for dinner, Jake,” she said. Her voice was soft and for a moment I wanted to tell her to stay. That she didn’t need to leave. That we could open another bottle of wine and talk some more.

But then I remembered the cold truth of what life was like for me now and decided it was pointless. Tomorrow I would leave New York and all the vestiges of my old life would finally fade into oblivion.

She looked at me and something happened between us, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. She went to say something but then stopped and she smiled softly. “Enjoy Canada.”

And with that she was gone.

She had put up a compelling argument but at the end of the day she hadn’t convinced me. I was done with hockey.

Yet, for some reason that was beyond my understanding, I didn’t make that final call to Hank.

*   *   *

Chapter Six

Mackenzie

I wasn’t easily deterred. And I couldn’t afford to be. If I wanted to save face in front of Garrick and my father, then I needed to get Jake back on the ice. And if that meant taking an early flight to Saskatchewan, and enduring an I-might-just-die flight in a shaky Piper Saratoga to Moose Lake while battling snow and sleet . . . then so be it.

After checking into a quaint B&B in town just ten minutes from Moose Lake, I quickly sent off a text message to my father and Garrick before driving out to Jake’s cabin.

When I knocked on his door and he answered it, his eyes immediately narrowed. To say that I was unexpected would be an understatement.

 “I think they call this stalking,” he said.

“It’s called business. What sort of agent would I be if I didn’t visit my favorite hockey player?”

“The good kind.” His beautiful eyes glittered across at me. “No phone call? Text?”

“I was afraid your phone would hit on me if I texted you. Or call me names.” Ignoring his obvious displeasure at seeing me, I held up a couple of Quest bars—which I knew were his favorite—and waited for him to invite me in. Christ, it was cold. When the Canadians put on winter they certainly didn’t hold back. “You like Quest bars, right?”

Typically, Jake was determined to be an ass. “Apparently, I prefer bourbon,” he replied sarcastically.

I pulled the bottle of bourbon out from under my arm and held it up triumphantly. “Now are you going to let me in? Or do you really want me to freeze to death on your doorstep.”

“Do I have a choice here?”

“Not really.”

He sighed and with a roll of those piercing eyes he opened the door wider for me to step inside.

The cabin was small but cozy. It was basically one room with an entire house squished into it. In the small kitchenette to the left, red-and-white-checkered curtains hung by a small window overlooking a frozen pond out in back. Across the room—and by across the room I actually mean just a few feet away—a fire crackled in a beautiful riverstone hearth in front of a lumpy couch. Under the only other window in the cabin was a large comfy bed with the quintessential patchwork quilt.

Warmth from the fire engulfed me but my teeth still chattered with the cold.

“This is nice,” I said, noting that Jake had already opened the bottle of bourbon and was pouring some into a glass. He handed it to me but I shook my head, my teeth still chattering.

“You want to talk to me, you drink this,” he said, his eyes hard. It amazed me how something so beautiful as those eyes could hold so much unhappiness.

“It’s a bit early . . .”

The look on his face was a clear indication that there was little room for negotiation.

Fine.

Bully.

I took the glass from him and without hesitation, threw back the bourbon. I waited as it carved a hot path down my throat and spread a delicious warmth across my chest. Annnnnnd, there it was . . . the God-awful aftertaste. Ugh. I screwed my nose up and squeezed my eyes shut. Bourbon tasted like ass. But at least it warmed me up almost immediately.

Jake chuckled. It was the first time I’d even seen a hint of a smile on his face since I’d arrived.

And it was fucking perfect.

“Warmer?” he asked.

It was then I realized that he’d insisted I drink the alcohol more so to get me warm than to get me plastered.

“Thank you.”

He refilled my glass.

“You know, I don’t normally drink alone,” I said.

I watched as he took another glass from the cabinet above a small stove, and added a splash of bourbon, then watched as he tipped his head back and downed the rich, gold liquid. The way his throat worked as he swallowed was mesmerizing. In fact, all of him was. From the broad shoulders and big biceps, right down to the dark beard hiding his handsome face.

Damn. That wasn’t good. In fact it was bad. Noticing how hot my client is just wasn’t an option.

I blamed the cargo pants he wore. They fit every part of him perfectly. And they had those pockets and stuff hanging off them, so he looked like he was part of SWAT or something equally as sexy. He wore a short tee over a long-sleeve tee and his hair was an inky, wild mess that tumbled past his shoulders.

The guy was genetically blessed but was completely and utterly unaware of it.

That, or he just didn’t care.

Going by his demeanor, I didn’t think Jake cared about too much.

“We need to talk,” I said.

Jake raised a dark eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” he deadpanned. He sat down on one of the dining chairs and rested an arm on the table in front of him. “It’s okay, I understand, it’s you and not me.”

I chose to ignore his obvious sarcasm.

“I have a plan,” I said happily.

“Does it involve you hopping back in your car and leaving?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

I joined him at the small table between the kitchenette and the fireplace. I shrugged off my jacket and hung it over one of the chairs.

“I want to set up a meeting between you and the Fury,” I said.

Jake sighed. “If you’re anything, you’re persistent.”

“My dad told me you never called to cancel your contract.” I waited, watching him for any signs of discomfort because he had been called out. But I got nothing. He just stared at me. Completely poker-faced. “He said that you had an agreement. That you were to listen to my pitch about representing you. And then afterwards, you could call him and he would terminate your contract. But he said you never called.”

That told me more than he realized. It told me that somewhere inside of him, Jake wasn’t ready to let go of his hockey career just yet.

But again, Jake remained poker-faced.

“I don’t think you want to give up hockey,” I continued boldly. “That somewhere deep inside of Jake Pennington there is still a tenacious desire for hockey. That maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to let go.”

He paused for a moment. And as our eyes remained fixed, and the seconds ticked by, I held my breath. I was sure he was going to budge.

Finally, Jake broke the silence.

“No,” he said, folding his arms.

I sighed and didn’t bother trying to hide my frustration.

I poured another shot, threw it back, and then pushed the bottle away. I still had to drive and any more bourbon would ruin me. I glanced out the window. It was snowing now and I would need to leave before it got too heavy. Not being a native to snow, I hated driving in it.

Jake watched me, amused. “Are you okay?”

I swallowed hard, driving the aftertaste of bourbon down my throat.

I gestured to the little window that sat over the little kitchen sink. It was now late afternoon and it looked like the snow was getting heavier outside.

“It’s snowing again,” I said, trying to hold back another cough as bourbon bit at my throat. “I’m going to have to leave before it gets too heavy.”

Jake stood up. “Well, what can I say? Thanks for stopping by.”

I didn’t budge.

Instead, I made one last attempt at getting him to at least consider joining the Galveston Fury. “Please think about this.”

“I have. And I’m not going back to hockey,” he said. “And that is that.”

He was being stubborn. This was a lost cause and I might as well leave. Which was awful because I had a huge fucking bet in play. I needed to make one more attempt at convincing him, but before I could answer there was a pounding on the door that nearly sent me skyward out of my skin. Jake looked at me like I might be mental.

Yep. He thought I was a weirdo. Whatever.

I twisted in my seat and watched as Jake opened the door where, in the next second, a ten-foot giant Canadian appeared in the small space.

“Hey, Billy,” Jake shook the older guy’s hand.

“Hey, Jake, Alice wanted me to make sure you were aware—” catching sight of me, the man stopped talking and looked apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

Jake looked over his shoulder at me.

I stood up. “That’s alright, I was just about to leave.”

The giant man looked apologetic again. “I don’t think so, young lady. That’s why I’m here. There’s a blizzard coming. A big one.”

“Blizzard?” I choked the word out.

“Going out there now would be suicide.”

“But I’m only staying at the B&B a few miles down the road,” I explained.

“That’s a ten-minute drive. You don’t want to risk it,” the exquisite looking Canadian said. “You’re both welcome to join Alice and me. We’re a couple of minutes across the pond. But Willy and Maggie have a bad case of bronchitis each, so it’s a bit noisy.”

I looked at Jake.

“Mackenzie, this is Billy Redwing, my neighbor. Billy, this is Mackenzie—” he hesitated before saying it, “—my agent.”

He ignored my suddenly smug smile. But I felt a swoop of joy in my tummy and couldn’t hide it. He had just admitted I was his agent which was a sign that maybe I was reaching the stubborn hockey player after all.

“Billy and his wife, Alice, have eight children,” Jake explained. “Willy and Maggie are two of them.”

“Our place is a bit bigger. There’s plenty of food and it’s warm. This blizzard might keep us snowed in for a couple of days.”

A couple of days?

My blood pressure went up.

I looked at Jake who was already looking at me. I gave him a little shake of my head. He must’ve understood because when he turned back to his friend he said, “Thanks, Billy, but I think we’ll be okay.”

When Jake closed the door behind Billy, I stood up.

“I have to go.”

“You heard Billy—”

“You don’t understand.” Anxiety prickled along the length of my spine. “I can’t be cooped up here for the next couple of days.”

Jake’s perfect brows rose but he said nothing. He just watched me as I dived headfirst into my meltdown.

Turning, I grabbed my coat from the back of the chair.

“If I leave now I will make it.” I thrust my arms into the sleeves. “It’s not even a ten-minute drive.”

“That’s not a good idea.” Jake crossed the room and stopped me from doing up my buttons by turning me around. Towering above me, he cupped my shoulders. “I think you’re going to have to accept facts.”

“What?”

“That you’re stuck here for the night, whether you like it or not.”

The sudden flurry of snow against the windows made me jump. And that’s when it hit. Like a wrecking ball toward my brain. Anxiety. I could feel the prickles of it spreading across my skin like a slow-moving plague.

He was going to think I was mental. He looked at me with those stupid, incredible eyes and my anxiety attack went from a Mount St. Helens to a Pompeii-size eruption.

Oh, boy.

This was going to suck.

*   *   *

Chapter Seven

Jake

Great. Not only was my agent a stalker. She was crazy, as well.

Which was just my luck. Being stuck in my grandaddy’s cabin with a beautiful woman who was on the wrong side of crazy.

But she was lucky. Because if there was one thing I knew how to handle, it was anxiety. And Mackenzie was simply having an anxiety attack.

I put my hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Z. Just breathe.”

She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled deeply.

“Just breathe.” I don’t know why I repeated myself. But I did. And then to top it off, I started to quickly inhale and exhale beside her. “That’s it. Breathe.”

But Mackenzie shrugged my hand away and looked at me like I’d just poured ice water over her head.

“What are you trying to make me do? Hyperventilate?” she exclaimed. “I’m having an anxiety attack, you weirdo, not giving birth!”

I couldn’t help but smile. She was feisty and sassy, and Christ, wait a minute—I parted her jacket to check.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed again, knocking my hands away.

“Just checking.”

She tried to be mad at me but failed miserably.

“Pervert,” she half grumbled, half giggled.

“Hey, I don’t know you. You could be having a baby for all I know.”

She was mad again. “Thanks. Now you’re implying I’m fat.”

I smiled but didn’t dispute it. Not that there was any truth in it. She was tiny.

“Oh, my God, you’re such a dick!” She wailed. As she stood up, she ripped off her coat, and pulled up the front of her T-shirt to reveal a pretty spectacular flat stomach. I won’t lie, seeing that smooth plane of tanned flesh alerted something deep inside me. But before I had time to work out what it was, Mackenzie started wailing at me again. “Look. Look!” She prodded her tight belly with her index finger and then slapped it with her palm. “Do you call that fat?”

She was right. There was zero fat. But I didn’t tell her that, instead, I chuckled.

“Hey, Z?”

“What?” she snapped.

“How’s that anxiety attack?”

Her mouth opened to give me some smart-ass reply but stopped when she realized I had successfully distracted her long enough for her anxiety to pass.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she whispered.

I smiled. Preoccupation. It was a lifesaver when it came to coping with out-of-control emotions.

I would know.

*   *   *

Mackenzie

“We need rules.” Jake said.

I looked at him like he’d just spoken alien. “Rules?”

“Rules,” he repeated. “We are stuck here for however long this blizzard lasts. It’s a small cabin.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay. What are these rules?”

“Rule number one. No hockey talk.” When I started to interrupt, he stopped me. “Rule number two. No. Hockey. Talk.”

Point taken.

“Anything else?” I asked.

He shook his head. So I shrugged and nodded. “Okay. Sounds fair.”

He glanced at me sideways. “I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t want to hear anything about playoffs, or the Galveston Fury, or saucer shots.” He raised an eyebrow as he used the term he found so amusing.

I rolled my eyes. “Why are you still talking about hockey? You’re already breaking rules one and two.”

Now it was Jake’s turn to roll his eyes. But I just grinned at him, and then for some stupid reason, I started laughing.

“Why are you so chipper?” he asked.

“Chipper?” I laughed out the words. “How old are you, Grandpa? Who uses the word chipper?”

He sighed like an irritated adult might do to an annoying child. “Okay, then. Spritely. Why are you so spritely?”

“Why are you determined to talk like an old man?”

“I’m not talking like an old man. I’m Canadian.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Maybe we talk differently.”

“What . . . grandpa-esque?” I laughed because clearly I was hilarious. But Jake didn’t think so. Again, he sighed. And I could only imagine he was thinking about what a long and painful evening it would be if we kept having conversations like this one.

So I took pity on him.

“I’m happy because I’m here with you, is that such a bad thing?” I asked.

Jake fixed me with those damn magnetic eyes.

“How do you know I’m not a serial killer?” he asked, folding his big arms across his big chest. Because if you hadn’t heard, he was big.

“Are you a serial killer?” I asked.

“Well, no . . . but you don’t know that.”

“Do you plan on starving me in a cellar pit and then wearing my skin as a suit?”

“Not today.”

I handed him the shot glass, which he accepted. “Well then, drink up, Sunshine.” I clinked his glass with mine. “Anyway, just before I came here I rang my father to let him know where I was and what I was doing. I also left strict instructions for him to send for the Mounties if he doesn’t hear from me in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Really?”

I burst into laughter. “No!”

Like I was that organized.

I grinned but Jake just rolled his eyes at me.

“But I did ring him to let him know where I was going,” I reassured him.

“You should send him a message. Let him know there is a blizzard and you’re stuck here until it passes.”

While Jake disappeared to the small bathroom off the kitchenette, I decided to do exactly that. I wanted to send one to my dad, one to Meg and Anna, and one to my mom in California. Since the incident, I was more conscious about letting people know where I was throughout my day.

Except, I had left my cell phone in my car.

I looked at the clock above the window. It was only five-thirty but it was already getting dark outside thanks to the approaching weather. Thinking I could race out to my car and be back in no time I shoved on my coat and gloves, and opened the front door. Immediately, cold air blasted my face and a strong wind hurled snow across the little front porch. My car was only a few yards from the cabin but it might as well have been a thousand miles away. As soon as I stepped into the wind it whipped me up and sent me sliding across the floorboards and down the snow-laden front steps, landing me on my ass by my car. Using the chrome bumper I hoisted myself onto my feet again, struggling against the wind and the sleet as I reached for the car door.

Pulling on the doorhandle I yanked it open, leapt inside, and slammed it closed behind me.

Inside the car it was quiet. Still. Eerie. I couldn’t see a thing because the windshield was already under a layer of snow, so I had to feel around for my cell.  I found it on the passenger seat and shoved it into the inner breast pocket of my coat before opening the door again.

As soon as I climbed out of the car, another surge of wind pushed me sideways and I fell straight onto my ass again. Dazed, I tried to get up but the wind wasn’t finished with me. Like a bear toying with its prey it rolled me over and over and over again. Ice and snow were like a rain of nails against my skin and the wind howled like a demon in my ears. Totally at its mercy all I could do was tuck my chin into my chest and hope to God I wasn’t blown away into the dark where I would certainly freeze to death.

Another howl of wind screamed past me, lifting me off the ground and rolling me farther away from the car. But like a beacon in the darkness a strong pair of hands pulled me off the ground. Before I realized what was happening, Jake threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, and carried me through the screaming wind, his strong body fighting the weather until we were safely back in the cabin.

Wind tore through the front door and rattled everything in its path as Jake set me down on a chair at the table.

“Are you crazy?” he asked, kicking the door closed behind him.

“Clearly,” I said between chattering teeth.

My jacket had protected me from the snow but my jeans were damp.

He shook his head. “Why would you do that?”

“My phone was in my car.”

“And that was worth risking your life for?”

“Y-yes!” I fought to hold back my chattering teeth as I looked at him. “I have three very demanding clients. That equates to approximately one hundred phone calls a day. I n-need my phone.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “Sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.”

“No, it’s business.” Jesus Christ, I was cold. “I’m an agent. That’s w-what I do. I take p-phone calls and make deals.”

Jake opened the door to a small linen closet and pulled out a towel.

“You should take those off,” he said nodding toward the jeans I was hopelessly trying to dry off with my gloved hands. “You’ll freeze if you leave them on.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “There’s one I’ve never heard before.”

“Again with the funny,” he said, handing me the towel. “Take them off and I’ll put them in the dryer.”

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I shimmied out of my jeans and handed them to Jake. The clothes dryer was in a little nook off from the pantry. I heard him close the door and the subsequent sound of my jeans starting to tumble.

When Jake walked back into the room I was again taken back by the sheer size of him, and just how damn handsome he was. No wonder he had the reputation of a playboy. In the last couple of days I had read a lot about him and his taunts and trysts. They were all over the Internet. How he liked women. Lots of women. How he was never short of a beautiful woman on his arm. How he could talk a girl out of her clothes with just a look.

Inwardly, I grinned. It can’t have all been lies. An hour with Jake and he already had me out of mine.

*   *   *

Chapter Eight

Mackenzie

“So who are they?” Jake asked.

“Who are who?”

“Your three clients—the ones you would risk your life for?”

 I sat back in the chair and thought for a moment. The tips of my fingers rested on the handle of the cup of hot coffee in front of me.

“Okay, so first up is Ethan Valentine,” I said.

“The quarterback?”

“The one and only,” I replied flatly. The last time I had seen him in person he had told me all the things he was itching to do to me. It was kind of hard to forget. Apparently, this Indiana farmboy hid a very voracious desire for ropes and chains. “He’s currently taking a break in New Mexico.”

“A break?” Jake asked.

“A break.”

Jake nodded knowingly. I couldn’t tell him the details because I was sworn to confidentiality.

“Who else?” Jake asked.

“Daisy Jones.”

“The popstar?”

“You know you are very good at this,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

“I bet she keeps you on your toes.”

He wasn’t wrong. Trouble followed Daisy around like a shadow. Her latest drama was getting caught in the backstage bathroom of the Long Beach Entertainment Centre with the lead singer of a heavy metal band and an ounce of cocaine. All relatively tame stuff if she hadn’t been on her knees mid-fellatio when the singer's heavily pregnant wife had caught them. The blowback was a maelstrom of angry allegations, one stalled tour, a visit to rehab, and one big, fat, angry divorce.

It had taken a lot of smooth talking on my behalf to save her biggest endorsement deal, Allstar Cosmetics. Worth several million dollars, they didn’t want their high-end product being stained by their celebrity ambassador. They wanted the pure version of Daisy Jones. Not the slut-puppy who gave blowjobs to lead singers while on her knees in a backstage bathroom.

I remembered her very brief explanation during the aftermath.

“Honey, I thought you liked women,” I had said.

She had simply shrugged. “He was there. We were high. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Many careers had been sunk because of that old chestnut.

Somehow I had saved the deal, thanks to my inherited ability for smooth talking and bullshit, and she retained her very lucrative endorsement deal. But she owed me. She owed me big time.

“And last, but certainly not least . . .” I paused for effect. “Jake Pennington. Hockey player.”

Jake folded his big arms across his chest.

“EX-hockey player,” he reminded me, sitting back and putting his feet on the chair across from him. “And I don’t need an agent.”

I finished my coffee. “We’ll see.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s the current state of play.”

Noticing his dislike for the direction this conversation was going, and remembering rules one and two, I decided to raise the mood. I sucked in a deep breath and grinned. It was time to lighten things up.

I leaned forward and poured two shots of bourbon from the bottle that still sat on the table in front of us. I needed Jake to relax.

“Okay, let’s play never have I ever,” I said handing him his glass.

He raised an eyebrow. “So we’re teenagers now?”

I shrugged. “We’re stuck in a cabin. It’s snowing. There’s not a hell of a lot to do right now.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, and he thought for a moment before he leaned forward and took the glass from me.

"Fine. Do your best,” he challenged, sitting back and resting his arm on the table.

This game was good for getting to know your companion and if I was smart I could use it to my advantage. I wasn’t sure how, right at that minute, but I was pretty sure I would recognize the opportunity when it struck.

“Okay. Never have I ever . . .” I thought for a moment, biting my lip as I considered my question. My eyes glittered across at him mischievously. “ . . . been with one of my friend’s girlfriends.”

His eyes locked on mine. And then very slowly, he raised his glass to his lips and took the shot.

I screwed my nose up. “Really? What about the bro code, and all that?” I asked, genuinely surprised that Jake had done something like that. If there was one thing I had already learned about him, it was his undying integrity and loyalty that he had for his friends.

Jake’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, there was definitely bro code,” he said. “In fact, it was done because of bro code. It was back in high school. A threesome with one of my teammates and his girlfriend. A total favor, I promise. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.”

I shook my head and screwed up my nose. “No, that’s okay. I don’t think I need to know that story, like, ever. Or any other of your horny hockey player stories.”

Jake shrugged. “Okay, my turn.” He thought for a moment. “Never have I ever . . . been in handcuffs.”

When I slowly lifted the shot glass to my lips he raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“In or out of custody?” he asked.

“Out of custody,” I replied, then winked as I slung back the shot.

Jake grinned and then took a shot himself.

“Really?” I asked.

“Come on, Z. What do you expect? Me being a horny hockey player and all.”

Boy, I regretted my earlier comment. Because now I was picturing him in handcuffs. Naked. And that was very, very inappropriate.

My brain scurried for a question. It needed it to be tame because I didn’t need any more mental images of Jake naked, or in handcuffs.  “Okay. Never have I ever . . . given someone a fake phone number.”

Jake looked at me like it was the most boring question in the world, and then did his shot.

“Well, knowing your phone and its bad behavior, you were probably doing them a favor,” I quipped.

Then remembering that giving out a fake number had sometimes been a necessity back in college, I threw back my shot of bourbon. After my fourth, it didn’t taste nearly as bad as the first. But I still screwed my face up as my tastebuds shriveled up and died a cold, ruthless death at the taste on my tongue.

I poured two more shots. Just a splash this time because I was starting to feel a little . . . relaxed.

Jake paused for a moment as he thought of a question. “Never have I ever . . .  peed my name in the snow.”

I gave him a pointed look. “Come on, rookie. How could I have? Until last year I’d never even seen sno—wait. Are you telling me you have?”

When he took a shot I really screwed my nose up this time.

I was definitely filing that away under TMI.

“College hockey game in Minnesota. We won and I got toasted. It was pure necessity, I promise.”

I pushed the mental image of him with his hand on his cock out of my head. And completely ignored the warm pulse it evoked between my thighs. The guy peed in snow and now I was turned on? Clearly I was mental.

“Changing the subject.” I said, fixing him with bourbon-glazed eyes. “Never have I ever . . . sent a dirty text to the wrong person.”

When Jake took a drink I don’t know why I was surprised.

“My one and only dick pic,” he explained. “My coach was super impressed.”

I laughed so hard I realized I probably needed to stop drinking. And then my imagination got the better of me and I started to imagine what his dick pic looked like. Instantly, my body warmed and my inner muscles fluttered and clenched with interest. Oh, hell.

Jake leaned forward. “So you’re telling me you’ve never accidentally sexted the wrong person?”

I shook my head. “I don’t sext.”

“Come on, Z. You’ve never sent some lucky guy a bit of eye candy? No sexy Shakespeare?”

“Um, no.”

He sat back and looked so damn delicious I had to exhale deeply. He was so big and so broad I suddenly wanted to reach across and press my face into the wide plane of his chest like some weirdo.

Stupid alcohol. Five shots and I was back in high school again.  

Deciding I was getting a little too intoxicated, I suggested we play another game. One that wasn’t going to get me so plastered. One that would at least give me better odds of not having to take another shot.

“How about we play truth or dare?” I proposed, desperately trying to convince myself that my body’s reaction to Jake was purely stimulated by the four additional shots of bourbon I had just consumed.

“Okay,” he said, folding his arms across his broad chest. And then he went straight for the kill. “You’re never going to give up badgering me about hockey, are you?”

Taken by surprise, I did what I did best when I was caught unawares. I deflected. Even if he was right. Because I wasn’t going to give up. I was going to wear him down—but damn, I wasn’t going to admit it.

“What happened to rule number one? No hockey talk.”

His eyes remained firm on mine. “My rules. I can break them.”

I pulled a face. He didn’t play fair.

 “You didn’t ask me for truth or dare,” I pointed out.

“Okay, fine. Truth or dare?

My eyes flashed at him. “Dare.”

He leaned forward. “Tell me the truth, if you dare. You’re not going to give up badgering me until you get me on the ice again, are you?”

“Really? That’s your dare. A question about you? Are you that full of yourself?”

“Answer the question.” Again, his eyes remained on mine.

“Fine.” I crossed my arms across my chest to mirror his body language but they both totally failed to connect and slipped because I was more inebriated than I thought. I quickly regained my composure and raised my chin. “I can be quite tenacious when I want to be.”

“You don’t say.”

My eyes fell to the bourbon in his hand. “Best you throw that back. After all, rules are rules.”

I watched him drink his shot, completely ignoring the way his throat worked as he swallowed the alcohol, or the way the light gleamed on his wet lips as he snapped the shot glass down on the table.

“My turn,” I said, dragging my eyes from his lips. “Truth or dare.”

He thought for a minute. “Truth.”

I made sure our eyes met. “Answer truthfully, have I worn you down yet?”

He shook his head. “I can be just as tenacious.”

“So what’s it going to take for me to prove how serious I am?”

He considered my question for a moment. “Give up?”

I frowned. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

He shrugged. “Okay, then. Show me your boobs.”

“No way! I’m not that drunk.”

“Then you gotta take another shot.”

Another shot would ruin me.

“Bra on?”

“Of course. I may be a perv but I’m not a complete douche.”

His eyes glittered across at me. He didn’t think I would do it—that was obvious.  And something in the way he looked at me made me want to prove him wrong. He needed to know that I wasn’t afraid to go after what I wanted. That as his agent I would go as far as I needed to go to win.

“So, let me get this straight. If I show you my boobs, you’re going to consider keeping me on as your agent.”

He looked a little too smug. “Yes.”

Going by his response, he didn’t think I was going to do it.

Without taking my eyes from his, I slowly undid the buttons to my shirt.

Jake remained straight-faced. But I would have bet a million bucks he wanted to look. Because at the end of the day he was a hot-blooded male and if I’m completely honest, my rack was a little bit awesome.

I let my shirt fall open.

“Well, are you going to look?” I asked.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, his eyes firmly fixed to mine.

“What?”

“I really didn’t think you would do it.”

“You underestimate me.”

A smile tugged on his lips. “Apparently so . . .”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“A deal’s a deal,” I said. “Are you going to look?”

Jake’s eyes dropped to my chest area.

He continued to look. In fact, he continued to look for a really long time.

Finally he looked up and grinned. “Nice rack.”

My eyes stayed on his. “I guess that means we have a deal.”

*   *   *

Chapter Nine

Jake

According to what was happening in my pants, I was twelve again and stuck in the closet with Carly Foster during a game of spin the bottle at a grade school birthday party. As soon as I saw Mackenzie’s boobs I was done for. Turned on. Check. Bad thoughts. Check. Erection. Check.

What can I say? I was a boob guy. And I hadn’t seen a pair of semi-naked boobs in almost a year.

I didn’t want to look . . . but I’m a guy so it was pretty much in my genetic makeup to look. My eyes dipped to her chest and it was damn near impossible not to notice the perfection of her ample rack. And the way the white lace of her bra set off the deep tan of her flesh. Or the fact that she was already in just a towel around her slim hips and it would only take one small tug to get her semi-naked.

Goddamn . . .

I rubbed the front of my thighs desperate to adjust the raging wood taking place in my boxer shorts. Needing a distraction I quickly changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”

Mackenzie did her shirt back up and then gave me one of those warm smiles that hit me right in the stomach.

“Mmmmmmmm, food sounds good,” she said and I noticed the slight glaze in her eyes. Yeah. She needed food.

“Your jeans should be dry now,” I said. “Do you want me to get them from the dryer?”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, I’ll go put them on.”

When she disappeared around the corner, I made a break for the kitchen, taking the opportunity to adjust the front of my cargos as I walked. I went to the refrigerator and pulled out ground beef from the freezer compartment, and placed it in the microwave to thaw. I heard the dryer stop and before I could stop myself, I pictured Mackenzie redressing in her jeans. I pictured the towel falling from her hips to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a pair of tiny panties. Yeah. It was my fantasy and her panties were tiny. I heard the door to the dryer close and the sound of her towel being tumbled, and I pictured those long legs of hers sliding into denim. She was definitely a shimmier, so I imagined her shimmying into those skinny jeans, tugging them up her legs and wiggling that perfect peach ass of hers until they fit nice and snug around her curves.

Damn. My breath left me and I had to adjust myself in my cargos, again. I needed to rub out the need I felt unfurling there before I gave myself blue balls.

Mackenzie walked back in to the kitchen, buttoning up the front of her jeans.

Yep. I was going to need a long shower.

“What’s on the menu?” She grinned at me, and again I felt blinded by those cute dimples on either side of her lips. She had pulled her rich golden hair free from its ponytail so it hung loose around her face and down her shoulders. “Do you want some help?”

“There’s a stock pot in there.” I pointed to a cupboard beneath the small island bench. “If you get the water boiling for the pasta I’ll make the sauce.”

I’m a star when it comes to making spaghetti sauce. And I’m not talking about your spaghetti-sauce-in-the-jar-type awesomeness. I mean, I’m a real fucking star and I make it from scratch. Spring tomatoes. Fresh basil. Finely sliced garlic. And a secret ingredient that always skyrocketed the taste into outer space.

While Mackenzie busied herself with getting the water boiling, I browned the ground beef in a frying pan, mixed in some fresh basil and garlic, and then added a jar of vine-ripened tomatoes I had preserved only a few months earlier.

We’ll talk about me preserving food later . . . because, yeah, I preserve shit.

“Water is boiling. Are you ready for me to add the pasta?” Mackenzie asked. When I looked at her she tucked her hair behind her ears again, and I was suddenly distracted by how beautiful she looked.

I nodded. “Pasta is in the pantry.”

“Olive oil?” she asked, and I pointed to the cupboard above the small stove.

While she got the pasta happening, I took half a small pumpkin from the refrigerator and began skinning it.

“Pumpkin?”  Mackenzie queried.

I put an index finger across my lips. “Shhhhhhh . . . totally my secret weapon.”

Mackenzie grinned. “Really? Pumpkin?”

I chopped the pumpkin into pieces and put it in the microwave to soften. “It was my mom’s way of sneaking vegetables into our meals. She always did it. Mashed up pumpkin in spaghetti sauce. Broccoli in casserole. Mixed vegetables in soup.”

“I like her style,” Mackenzie said with an impressed grin. And I was suddenly struck with the idea that my mom would have loved this girl. Out of all the women I had ever spent time with she would have loved Mackenzie the best of all. I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. I had never personally chosen one moment of time with Mackenzie. She had kind of forced every single incident on me. Yet now that she was here I couldn’t help but appreciate the time with her.

The thought was like ice-cold water being thrown over me.

What the fuck was I thinking?

This wasn’t happy families.

This was me simply trying to get through the night with my unwanted guest. I had to remember that. After the blizzard, she would leave and I would forget her.

I removed the pumpkin from the microwave. “How is the pasta coming along?”

Using a pair of tongs, Mackenzie pulled a string of spaghetti from the boiling pot and then to my complete surprise threw it against the wall.

 “If it sticks or falls off it’s not done.” Mackenzie explained. “But if it does the caterpillar crawl down the wall, you know it’s al dente.”

The spaghetti fell off the wall.

“It needs a few more minutes.” She winked and then dunked her finger into the spaghetti sauce on the stove. “Mmmmmmmm . . .  that is pretty good.”

I refused to acknowledge how fucking sexy it was watching Mackenzie stick her finger in her mouth and then slowly drag it from her plump lips.

“Just wait. You haven’t seen anything yet,” I said, taking the masher from the cutlery drawer and mashing the pumpkin, adding salt and mixed herbs as I did, and then scooping it into the spaghetti sauce bubbling on the stove.

Stirring the thick mixture, I looked across at Mackenzie who was busying herself with the pasta. She turned her head to look at me and smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back but then quickly turned back to my pasta sauce.

“You know what would go really well with this?” she said. Again, tucking her hair behind her ear and making me wish she would do that over and over again.

“What?”

She grinned. “A good bottle of red.”

That, I could do.

“You’re in luck.” I handed her the wooden spoon I was using to stir the sauce.

My granddaddy liked two things in life. Fish and red wine. Good wine. He kept a small cellar in a hole in the floor. It wasn’t anything fancy. Just something to serve his love of a good wine.  Certainly nothing to impress.

I couldn’t help but smile as I crossed the room to the area between the kitchen and the bathroom. There was a rug covering the trap door and when I pushed it aside, I realized Mackenzie was watching me from where she stood at the stove.

“Really? You have a secret cellar?”

I grinned at her “What can I say? I’m a man of many surprises.”

There were thirteen bottles in the makeshift cellar. I picked one based on the criteria I always used when picking a bottle of wine—the appeal of the label.

I popped the cork and let it breathe as I pulled two plates from the pantry.

“Ready for the pasta?” Mackenzie asked.

“Is it ready?”

“It’s crawling down the wall like a caterpillar . . . so, yeah.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Let’s do it.”

Mackenzie drained the pasta in the sink while I stirred the thick pasta sauce. Three minutes later, I was tipping my mom’s renowned pasta sauce over the top of some pretty al dente spaghetti.

“Want to pour us the wine?” I asked her.

We sat at the small table, two big plates of pasta and spaghetti sauce, and two glasses of red wine. It could be a romantic date but it wasn’t. There was nothing romantic about it.

Because she was my agent. And I wasn’t interested.

I watched as she devoured her meal.

“This is ah-maaaazing!” she said, scooping up her pasta and all that sauce using both a spoon and fork to pile it into her mouth. With her mouth full she tried to talk. “Ohmagord . . . thispastaisamordan . . .”

“You like?” I asked, desperately trying not to look at her mouth and those dimples deep in her cheeks.

She swallowed her mouthful. “Must be the pumpkin mash.” Red pasta sauce was smeared on her lips and I had an urge to reach over and wipe it off with my thumb.

But I didn’t.

Because I wasn’t a weirdo.

“Oh, my God,” she moaned as if the food in her mouth was giving her an orgasm. “I’m serious, Jake. This sauce is turning me on.”

That erection I had earlier? Yep. It was making a come back.

Hard.

I took a sip of my wine and fought with the images in my mind. The moaning. The pasta sauce on her lip. The way she kept tucking her hair behind her ear.  Jesus Christ, I was horny as hell.

I took a desperate sip of my wine. It was going to be a long night.

I needed a distraction.

And I needed one now!

*   *   *

Chapter Ten

Mackenzie

If I was smart, I would go to bed, sleep off my intoxication and stop myself from doing anything stupid.

But, of course, I didn’t.

Instead, I suggested we play more games, because clearly that was what a professional sports agent would do in this situation. But the copious amounts of bourbon and wine marinating in my veins convinced me it was a good idea. No. It convinced me it was a totally awesome idea.

Jake clicked his fingers as something suddenly occurred to him.

“I’ve got an idea.” He rose from his chair and crossed the room to the TV area.

“What?” I asked, surprised by his uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

Crouching down he rummaged through the TV cabinet. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled it out and began hooking it up to the television. He removed a DVD from a case, then threw the cover across to me.

“StarMaker?” I looked up at him. “You want to sing karaoke?”

He grinned. “Nope.” He stood up and handed me a microphone. “I want you to sing karaoke.”

I started to laugh like he was crazy and had a snowball’s chance in hell before I would sing a thing.

“You want me to get on the ice again, fine. But you have to do this first,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You mean you’ll play hockey again . . . if I sing karaoke?”

“Maybe. That depends on how well you sing.”

“You do realize that is blackmail, don’t you?”

“I like to think of it as negotiating the terms of our deal.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the microphone from him. “Whatever. Do your worst. But I have to warn you, I am pretty damn good at this.” Then summoning my inner Beyoncé, I added in a sing-song voice, “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.”

Jake turned away to fiddle with the TV remote. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just do that.”

He scrolled through the commands on the TV screen and then hit random. StarMaker selected Olivia Newton-John’s “Magic.”

Of course it did.

It had to be a seductive love song.

Where were the Metallica songs? Hell, where was Slayer?

Okay, not that I knew any Slayer.

But anything other than some sexy, come-on song would have been better. This was not the time for sexy or come-on.

As soon as those heady, seductive first notes of the song filled the little cabin, I knew I was in trouble.

At first, I hesitated. I was awkward and a little bit flat. But then the bourbon and the wine took over and I started to sing the fuck out of the song like the karaoke queen I was!

But after a minute or so, Jake shook his head and paused the karaoke.

“What do you call that?” he asked incredulously. “You look like you’re on your way to a funeral.”

“What? I was pitch perfect!” I protested.

He folded his arms across his broad chest and grinned. “Sure, you sound pretty perfect. But what’s this—” He walked around me and put his hands on either side of my hips, which immediately shot little tingles of happiness throughout my body. I shivered, suddenly wanting them to roam all over me. But Jake didn’t notice. He gently shook me to loosen me up. “You’re as stiff as a frozen shadow. I thought you said you were good at this.”

“I’ll have you know, I am a karaoke queen, thank you very much.”

“So you keep saying, but I dunno—” His bright eyes glittered over me. “I’m not feeling it.”

“Okay, hotshot, you show me how it’s done. Pitch-slap me.”

His eyes glinted up at me as an irresistible smile tugged at his lips.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Clearly, Jake and I were the same when it came to challenges. Neither one of us could turn one down.

He hit PLAY and once again, Olivia Newton-John’s seductive lyrics filled the room. Immediately, Jake proceeded to completely over perform a sexy dance that involved rocking his hips from side to side and running his hands up and down his body seductively. Apparently he didn’t take himself too seriously when it came to his karaoke and I couldn’t stop the laughter. He scooted over to me in time with the music and facing me, placed his hands back on my hips. It was like third-grade dancing all over again. Jake’s seductive hips swung from side to side, while his hands slipped up to my waist.

“Come on, baby, summon your inner Hello Kitty stripper girl for me.”

“You did not just say that to me,” I giggled. “Anyway, you thought I was a hooker, not a stripper.”

His hands on my waist made me all hot and bothered.

“Damn, Z, your waist is tiny.”

And then he said shit like that and I couldn’t think straight.

Did it just get hotter in here?

“Come on, Z, show me what you got.”

He wanted a performance? Fine. Challenge accepted.

I started mirroring his moves and my eyes flashed up at him as I walked him backwards. When it came time for the vocals again, I shoved him down on the dining chair behind him and proceeded to over perform like a Glee class on crack. Slow and controlled I raised my leg like a skilled gymnast over his body so I could straddle him, then lowered my body onto his and slid my crotch along him like I was a lap dancer from Vegas.

Holy hell, where did that move come from?

But I was too caught up in my act to worry. I was singing the bitch out of the song and reclaiming my Karaoke Queen crown. Because obviously that was important.

Jake was happy. He was smiling but it faltered a little as I gently rocked against him in time to the beat of the music.

You would think I’d be grateful the power went out at just that moment. But while it killed the karaoke machine and ended my sexually charged performance, it also left me in a very intimate position on Jake’s lap.

Silence filled the cabin except for the gentle lick of flames in the fireplace.

I glanced around the dark room and when my gaze shifted to his, our smiles faded. The moment had turned very intimate. Jake still had his hands on my hips while I was still straddled on his lap. The slow, pleasurable pressure that had begun to build back at the start of the last chorus, now pulsed and unfurled in the most intimate parts of me, making my stomach muscles tighten with need. There was enough sexual tension in the room to kick-start a porn film.

I knew it.

And Jake knew it.

And apparently so did Jake’s body, gauging by the huge erection pressing into me.

I shifted, ever so slightly, and a deep exhale escaped his beautiful mouth. My eyes dropped to his lips and I was suddenly desperate to kiss them. Just like I was desperate to feel more of what was pressing into me where my parted legs met his crotch. I swallowed hard and licked my lips to stop myself from leaning down and sealing my mouth over his.

I knew I should move. Just climb off and move away from the hot hockey player’s erection but my body had other ideas. It wanted what was pressing into me from under those sexy pair of cargos. So much so that I momentarily lost my mind and let myself imagine what it would feel like, and a traitorous moan escaped my mouth.

In a pathetic attempt to cover my sad display of rapacious want, I rushed to say the first thing that came to mind. But as soon as the words came out of my mouth I wished to God I could gather them back up and throw them back in again.

“We should go to bed,” I blurted out.

Oh, God no.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I had just invited Jake to go to bed with me.

While straddling his big erection.

His. Big. Erection.

I opened my eyes and Jake cocked an amused eyebrow at me. 

“I mean to sleep! Just . . . sleep.” I added quickly.

Heat flared in my cheeks as I climbed off his lap. But his big cock was suddenly a huge white elephant in the room, and when I say huge, I mean huge—and damn, why wouldn’t my eyes stay away from his lap?

“Sorry about that.” While his mouth said he was sorry, his grin said otherwise.

I face-planted into my palms, only raising my gaze when Jake chuckled.

“Come on, Z, what did you expect? A hot woman gyrating on his lap does something to a guy.”

And that something was huge.

“I’m not going to have sex with you!” I practically shrieked at him.

Jake’s grin barely wavered. “I didn’t realize I was asking.”

I nodded toward his lap. “That’s a pretty big invitation . . .”

“Why, thank you.”

Oh, hell.

“I mean . . . it’s just that . . .” I gave up and sighed. “Can we just go to bed already?”

Jake grinned as he stood up. “Damn, I like a woman who’s forward.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are so annoying.”

“Oh, I’m annoying? Says the woman who stalked me across two countries.”

I furiously searched for something to say, just so I wouldn’t keep staring at his cock . . . I mean, his crotch. Seriously, it was like it had a microphone and was calling out to me.

I glanced down at my jeans and shirt. They would be as uncomfortable as hell to sleep in yet dressing down to my bra and panties would be crazy.

 “Perhaps I could borrow something to sleep in?”

Jake gave me an amused grin. “Of course.”

He walked to a small dresser tucked away by the bed, and removed a folded shirt.

“The bathroom is to your right,” he said, handing the clothes to me. “I keep a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. Help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

The bathroom was small. The same checkered curtains that hung over the kitchen sink covered the small window above the claw-legged bath tub, completely blocking out the outside world. To the left was the toilet and the sink, and above the medicine cabinet a small light provided the only light in the room.

I washed my face and scrubbed my teeth, using the spare toothbrush from the medicine cabinet, and then slipped on the shirt Jake had given me. It smelled clean, like soap, but also of something else. Something intoxicating. Something deeply masculine and warm, and terribly, terribly sexy.  Him. My body began to tingle. Yes, him.

I gave my reflection in the mirror a very stern look.

“No. Just . . . no.” I raised a pointed finger at myself to emphasize my point. “You know exactly what I am talking about.”

When I came out of the bathroom, Jake had changed into a clean pair of sweats that hung low on his slim hips. He was shirtless and when he turned around, his spectacular torso came into view. I stopped in my tracks. Holy hell!

He grinned when he saw me in his flannel shirt.

I shifted self-consciously from one foot to the other. “I guess I was thinking it would be something a little more . . . hockeyish.” I said, holding down the short hem.

He rolled his eyes. “Because that’s what we hockey players do—save our hockey uniforms for sleepovers.”

I exhaled deeply, wondering about the sleeping arrangements. There was only one bed.

As if he could read my mind, Jake said, “Relax, Z. I’ll take the couch.”

It was a good, decent offer in theory. But in practice, it was a frustrating fail. Jake was way too big for the squeaky two-seater sofa, and every time he tried to get comfortable the springs moaned and groaned beneath his weight.

Lying rigid in his comfortable bed, I finally had enough and sat up. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, you can hop into bed with me.”

But Jake decided to play the martyr. “I’m fine. I will fall asleep soon.”

“When? Dawn?” I sighed. “Will you please just come and share this bed with me, Jake?”

The two-seater sofa wheezed as he sat up. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m not having sex with you.”

I watched him cross the room. “You’re hysterical.”

“I mean it. I’m not that type of guy,” he said, standing next to the bed in all his six-pack glory.

“Trust me, I’m not that type of girl.” I sank back into the pillow. “You’re completely safe with me.”

The mattress sank beside me as Jake climbed in and moved about until he was comfortable.

Awkwardness hung between us as we both lay there and stared up at the ceiling.

“Want to cuddle?” Jake finally asked, totally breaking the awkwardness between us.

I broke into laughter but threw a spare pillow at him as a warning. “Stay on your side. I warn you, I bite.”

He shoved the pillow I’d thrown at him behind his head. “Now you’re just coming on to me.”

I chuckled. “Pervert.”

He looked over and grinned, and goddamn if I didn’t want to kiss him.

I quickly turned away to study the ceiling.

Yep. I was in trouble.

*   *   *

Chapter Eleven

Jake

“Want to trade war stories?” I asked, staring up at the ceiling.

We were lying on my bed and my mind was at war with my hard-on. It wanted a distraction from the fact that a beautiful woman was horizontal in the bed next to me and the fact that I hadn’t had sex in close to a year.  The lights were still out, thanks to the blizzard, and the fire had died down so there was only a hint of light left in the cabin. Something about the situation made me want to talk—maybe get to know the woman I appeared to be stuck with for the next day or two.

She turned her head to look at me. “What makes you think I even have a war story?”

I turned my head to look back at her and for a moment I was distracted by how beautiful she looked in this light. “Something tells me you have one.” And when she looked away to stare at the ceiling, I knew I was right.

“What about you? What’s your war story?” she asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“The whole world knows my story,” I said, folding my hands across my chest. “I want to know yours.”

There was silence—except for the gentle lick of flames in the fireplace stretching out between us. Finally, Mackenzie sighed.

“What happened?” I asked.

“His name was Derek Jones.”

“Your war story involves a guy?”

She turned her head to give me a pointed look. “Do you want to hear my story or not?”

I smiled at her and then turned back to the ceiling. ‘Sorry.”

She sighed again and I was beginning to realize how much I liked the sound.

“I didn’t even know he existed,” she started and I was expecting a love-gone-wrong story about heartbreak and unrequited love. But then she kept talking and I started to feel an ugly tingle in my stomach, realizing her story was going to be so much worse than that.

“Until my last year of college he was no-one to me. But apparently I had smiled at him once and it had set off something inside of him. Something crazy. Something delusional. So when I was busy cramming for exams, he was busy taking sneaky photographs of me and plastering them to his bedroom wall.” She closed her eyes and I had a terrible feeling about where this story was heading. “I don’t remember our first meeting, but he did. And that night he decided he was going to make me his.”

“Z, you don’t have to do this,” I whispered, I didn’t want her to relive whatever nightmare I imagined she had suffered.

She turned her face to look at me. “It’s okay. Now. It’s good to be able to talk about it without the nausea and fear that used to cripple me.”

I felt an unexpected wave of protectiveness spread through me.

She sighed softly. “Derek was unwell. And in his sick mind, he and I were in some kind of relationship. He became obsessed with the idea of the two of us together.” I felt her pause and lick her lips before continuing. “I didn’t realize I was being stalked but then I started to notice strange things happening. At first, it was just little things, you know. The odd hang-up in the middle of the night. A bottle of my favorite wine turning up on my doorstep. Things being moved around in my bedroom. Then things started to disappear. A pen. A pair of earrings. My watch. Knick-knacks. Underwear. . .”

Disgust swirled in my belly and I felt my fingers curl at my sides until they were balled into fists. I couldn’t let myself imagine what he did with her underwear.

Mackenzie continued to stare at the ceiling. “I thought I was preoccupied by exams but then it all started to fall into place. When Derek’s need for my attention truly ramped up.” She gave a little shake of her head and then turned to look at me. “That’s when the real fun started.”

“Z—”

“He didn’t win,” she assured me quickly, and then she smiled, but it was close-lipped and I was pretty sure it was to reassure me and downplay the horror she’d endured. “Not in the end, anyway.”

She was quiet for a moment and we both stared up at the ceiling—me, trying to digest what she was telling me with the swell of anger in my chest at the thought of what she had endured.

Then she startled me with her next words.

“He got me,” she said simply, and when I realized what she had said and what it meant, my throat tightened. “I had been studying at the library and had lost track of the time, so it was late when I left. He had been waiting for me. Watching and waiting in the darkness. When I was walking to my car he came up behind me knocked me out and took me to the pool house on campus.” She inhaled and exhaled deeply, while I held my breath. “I woke up tied to a chair.”

I swallowed heavy and the sound seemed loud in the silence. Her words bit into me and I started to dread the details.

As a pro-athlete, I’d had my fair share of unwanted attention by crazed fans, but nothing, nothing, like this.

“He told me he loved me. That we belonged together. I pleaded with him to let me go but all he would keep saying was that he wanted some alone time with me. That we could swim and kiss, and make love in the pool.” She frowned and her words faltered a little as she recalled her horror. “I still hate the smell of chlorine.”

Nausea swirled in my belly. I couldn’t stand what I was hearing.

“He hadn’t counted on security noticing the extra light on in the building. Thankfully, before he could get me in that pool . . .” She sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know if I would ever have gotten out of that pool alive if the security officer hadn’t stopped him.”

Beside me she was as still as a church mouse. Almost detached from what she was recounting to me. And I could only imagine it was through months of therapy that let her recall such a terrifying ordeal without even shedding a tear.

“What happened to him?” I asked, thinking he had better be rotting in some jail cell somewhere.

“State psychiatrists decided he was too mentally unwell to stand trial.” I heard her swallow and sigh deeply. “That his actions were because of an undiagnosed illness and not one of malicious intent.”

“He’s not in prison?” I asked in disbelief. Anger flared in the pit of my stomach and again my fists curled into tight balls at my side.

She shook her head. “No. He’s in a private institution for the criminally insane. Even though there was some concern that he was quite sane. But his daddy is a pretty well-known judge back in Arizona. He had a lot of connections. His son was never going to do jail time.”

That anger I had in the pit of my stomach a minute ago? Yeah, it was a white-hot repugnance swirling deep inside of me.  

My arms instinctively went around her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m holding you. What does it look like?”

She didn’t fight the intimate closeness of our bodies, in fact, she relaxed and settled against me and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t the most amazing feeling in the world.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I whispered, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you,” she whispered. A safe relief settled across her face, and she settled against me again and murmured, “your turn.”

I retreated away from her a fraction. “Not tonight. We should try to get some sleep.”

I felt her relax beside me even more.

“I am pretty tired,” she murmured. “Good night, Jake.”

I smiled but her eyes were already closed.

“Good night, Z.”

*   *   *

Chapter Twelve

Mackenzie

In the early hours of the next morning I woke up and rolled over to find Jake still asleep. He lay on his back, one arm behind his head and the sheet tented around his nether regions.

Yep. He had a boner. And damn if I couldn’t drag my eyes away from it.

“Hey, roomie.”

Looking up, my eyes met Jake’s and heat immediately flared in my cheeks. He had just busted me staring at the outline of his morning wood. And when I say staring at, basically I mean gawking.

Caught in the act, I said the first thing that came to mind.

“You have a boner!”

Because apparently I had turned into Captain Obvious in my sleep.

But Jake just grinned up at me looking all sleepy-sexy and a relentless throb took up residence between my thighs.

 “Yep. But don’t take it personal, Z. It’s a guy thing.”

“Thanks, Sherlock. I didn’t think it was a girl thing,” I replied, desperately trying to act nonchalant, because the sight of his morning glory had me momentarily distracted.

He chuckled. “Don’t freak out. It’s not because I’m attracted to you.”

It surprised me how disappointed that made me feel.

“I don’t know if I should feel relieved or offended,” I muttered. 

“If it’s bothering you, I can always go and take care of it.” He grinned up at me from the pillow and my stomach muscles suddenly tightened. “Or I can just stick around and you could help me out?” His annoying boyish grin faded to a molten hot look with a cocked eyebrow, and those tightening stomach muscles? Yeah, they detonated into raging want that left me pressing my legs together to stop the convulsions. My mouth was a desert. Damn, I wanted to fuck him.

I chuckled to cover my body’s traitorous reaction. “You cannot say that to me!”

“Why? You finding it hard to say no?”

I rolled my eyes. “Someone’s feeling cocky.”

“According to you, I kinda have a right to be.” He grinned again. Big, bright, and totally delicious. “What was it you said last night? A pretty big invitation?”

Again, I rolled my eyes at him but he raised an inviting eyebrow at me, so naturally I threw my pillow at him. Unfortunately, it was a direct hit to his morning wood, and he snapped into a fetal position.

“Jesus Christ!” he groaned.

“Oh, hell!” I launched across the bed to offer some kind of assistance but stopped short of touching him. “I’m so sorry. I was . . . distracted. I was trying to change the subject.” It was a feeble explanation.

“Boy, when you want to change the subject, you sure don’t mind kicking a guy in the balls when you’re doing it.”

I winced. “I’m so sorry, Jake. Let me make it up to you.” I climbed off the bed. “What about breakfast?”

Because clearly that was going to make up for attacking his nether regions.

He looked up from the bed, unwinding his body and wincing as he sat up. “I thought you couldn’t cook?”

“I can’t. But I can give it a try.”

He shook his head. “How about I fix breakfast and you can have a shower.”

A warm shower and a freshen up sounded good.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, feeling a bit guilty.

“If I can handle a seven-foot Swedish defenseman called Bubba slamming into me on the ice, I’m pretty sure I can take a fluffy pillow to the balls.”

In the bathroom, I stripped down to my birthday suit and hunted around for my towel. Remembering, I had put it in the dryer after changing into my jeans, I scurried around looking for a linen closet or some kind of secret hoard of towels but there was nothing. Great. So now I either had to put all my clothes back on or I had to ask Jake to bring it to me.

Already naked, I conceded it was easier to brave a request to Jake than redress so I cracked the bathroom door just enough to peer out—just as Jake was pulling a fresh T-shirt over his head.

I went to say something but my words instantly vanished as my eyes drank in the visual spectacle of a half-naked Jake Pennington. Muscle pulled on muscle. Tendons maneuvered and flexed muscles onto muscles. And as much as I tried to look away, I had no chance because he had me mesmerized. Completely and utterly . . . and oh, my God, he was turning around . . .

Piercing blue eyes met mine and lingered for a moment, until one perfect eyebrow slowly lifted up.

Totally busted, heat flared in my cheeks. “I don’t suppose you could get my towel for me?”

If he knew I was basically molesting him with my eyes from the shady confines of the bathroom, then he didn’t show it. He simply handed me the towel but said nothing. And, of course, I said nothing, too, because the sight of a near-naked Jake Pennington had rendered me speechless. Where there should be words there was a big lump of nothingness. I swallowed deep and accepted the towel from him and then closed the door behind me.

Climbing into the tub, I turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm up before stepping under the spray.

Unwinding the towel from me, I tested the temperature by pushing a hand into the water streaming from the showerhead. 

That was when I looked up and came face to face with THE BIGGEST SPIDER IN THE WORLD. Just sitting there like a fat hairy Buddha on the showerhead.

Hairy and ready to kill me, it was raised on its hind legs ready to strike.

And I swear to God, this thing had fangs. Big, nasty, pop-a-cap-in-your-ass fangs!

With no hesitation, I let out a blood-curdling scream and flung myself across the bathtub as I made a hasty, slippery—and very unglamorous—retreat from the tub.

Jake burst into the room just as I grabbed my towel off the side of the tub.

“Mackenzie . . .” He looked around, alarmed, and then surprise lit up his features when he saw me hovering half-naked beside the tub.

All I could do was point in the direction of the showerhead. Tarantula-kill-a-lot was already making his retreat up the wall toward the ceiling.

Fuck. Me.

Jake looked in the direction of my pointed finger.

“That’s what all the screaming is about?” he asked, like I was being completely ridiculous.

I literally shrieked at him, “I don’t like spiders!”

“Would it make a difference if I told you the feeling was probably mutual?”

“Would it make a difference if I told you you’re wasting time and fucking Mr. Fucking Mutant up there is making his fucking escape.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Kill it!” I cried.

Jake retreated from the room—I assumed, to get some kind of weaponry—but when he returned he only had a mason jar in his hands.

“What are you going to do with that? Make it some jam?”

He looked at me like that was the most ludicrous idea in the world. “Hardly. I’m going to catch it and let it go.”

“You’re WHAT—” I scurried across the room like it would somehow seek me out when Jake tried catching it. I couldn’t bear to watch. I pulled my towel up to cover my eyes, and only when I heard Jake leave the room did I secure it back around my boobs. I heard the front door open, felt the chill of cold air as it whistled through the tiny cabin, and then heard the front door close again.

When Jake walked back into the bathroom I hadn’t moved from the corner.

I shook my head. “I can’t believe you just did that.” Another shiver ran down my back.

“Did you really want me to kill it? Just because you were afraid of it?”

When he said it like that . . . well, wasn’t I just the worst person in the world. He made me feel guilty. Like I was somehow responsible for some mass arachnid-genocide.

“I was seconds away from being dinner,” I said.

“It wasn’t that big.”

“I’m pretty sure he was the Robert Wadlow of the spider world,” I assured him. Thankfully, my tallest man in the world metaphor wasn’t lost on him.

He gave me a pointed look. “He was just seeking out some warmth from the cold.”

“He could’ve been looking for Atlantis, for all I care.” I stood up and pulled my towel around me tighter, suddenly aware of how semi-naked I was. Thanks to the blast of cold air my nipples had turned to steel. Not something I could easily hide in my towel so I wound my arms around my chest. “What did you do with him?”

“I put him outside. He’ll find somewhere warm to crawl into,” he explained, like I was somehow worried about its welfare.

“As long as that somewhere warm has nothing to do with me.” I turned around and pointed to a small scar on the back of my thigh. “Courtesy of a brown spider,” I explained. Admittedly, I had somehow managed to sleep through the attack but I am sure it would have been terrifying if I had been awake. In the morning I’d woken up in a world of pain with a red lump forming on the back of my leg. It had taken two rounds of antibiotics and my doctor cutting it open and packing it with some weird-ass seaweed gauze, for it to heal.

Jake had to lean in and squint to even see the scar.

“I can see why you’re terrified of them,” he said, bringing out his superpower sarcasm. As he straightened, he grinned.

“What?” I snapped.

“Someone as tough as you being afraid of spiders.”

I readjusted my towel around my boobs. “Then you’ll get a real kick out of my fear of pancakes.”

“Pan—” He shook his head. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“It’s a thing.”

“Sure it is.”

“Trypophobia,” I started to explain but he had already dismissed my fear of pancakes as something ridiculous.

“Any other phobias I should know about? Puppies? Unicorns? You know, all those scary motherfuckers?”

I also didn’t like sunflowers. Seriously, those fuckers were creepy. Someone once told me that they could turn their heads as you walked by and that was enough to ignite my irrational, but totally understandable, fear of them. But I wasn’t about to share that with Jake. He already thought I was a weirdo.

I also didn’t like moths, meaning Silence of the Lambs was torture for me to watch.

I folded my arms across my chest again because damn my nipples were hard. “You are the funniest man in the whole world.”

“I’m going to leave you alone now so you can shower,” he said.

My arms fell to my side. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Quite sure.” As he headed for the door he looked over his shoulder. “Want me to leave the door open a little?”

“So you can perve on my ass?” I gave him a look. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m hardly going to perve on you while you shower,” he said. And when I looked mildly offended, he winked. “I’m totally going to do that when you’re asleep.”

I threw a wash cloth at him. “Pervert.”

He flipped me a devilish grin as he reached for the door. “Enjoy your shower.”

And with that the door closed.

*   *   *

Jake

Pretend you didn’t see them.

Pretend you didn’t see them.

Oh, hell.

Of course I saw them. Two perfect nipples pressing up tight against the fabric of her towel. I adjusted myself because I was as hard as freakin’ steel. Jesus Christ, I needed to do something about that.

I had zero interest in Mackenzie. Zero interest. But tell that to my dick.

I tried to focus on making breakfast. Tried to focus on buttering toast and not picturing her soaping up her naked body under a steady stream of warm water. Tried to give the poached eggs my full attention and not picture her hands sliding across her soapy breasts and over two perfect, pink nipples. Tried to remember how long the goddamn bacon took to defrost in the microwave and not picture soapsuds sliding down the length of her perfect body, down to the crevice between her thighs. Christ. When she came out of the shower I was going in there myself and I was going to get rid of this ridiculous need once and for all.

But what if it didn’t go away. What if . . .

I frowned. Oh, hell no. I didn’t like this woman. This annoying, tenacious woman. The sooner this blizzard passed the better.

I glanced out the window. It was still snowing and there was barely a hint of light, even though the clock on the wall said eight-forty-five. The blizzard didn’t look like it was letting up and I felt a rise of panic in my stomach.

How long was I going to be snowed in with Mackenzie?

And how the hell was I going to keep my hands off her?

*   *   *

Chapter Thirteen

Mackenzie

As the hours ticked by we busied ourselves with conversation, reading, napping, and eating. Jake made us both breakfast and lunch—because he knew how much my cooking skills sucked—while I made the most of this mandatory downtime and did some reading. There was no TV reception and Jake’s grandfather had never bought a DVD player, so we were really relying on keeping ourselves occupied.

Luckily, Jake’s grandfather had loved reading and had a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf stacked with everything from Stephen King and James Patterson, to Dan Brown, Mary Burton and Patricia Cornwell. Hell, I even found an old Jackie Collins paperback amongst some hard-hitting hockey and how-to carpentry books.

Outside, snow continued to pour from the sky. Everywhere you looked it was a blanket of pristine white. My rental car was parked by the porch but it had vanished under a thick layer of snow.

I sat curled up on the sofa, my eyes glued to the pages of a James Patterson book while Jake played solitaire on the floor in front of me. Beside us, flames crackled in the open fireplace.

“Well, hell!” I exclaimed, closing the book after reading the last page. “I did not see that coming.”

Jake looked up from his solitaire game. “Good book?”

I nodded. “In hindsight, I am clearly blind. I must be, because the murderer was in front of me the whole time.”

“Sssssh, don’t tell me. I haven’t read it yet.”

I settled back into the sofa, but my eyes remained on Jake who had gone back to his game.

“Did you always want to play hockey?” I asked.

Jake looked up and thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I don’t recall there ever being any other dream.” He smiled across at me, and it was warm and beautiful. “What about you? Did you always want to be a sports agent?”

It had grown dark outside and the light inside the cabin had dimmed but it couldn’t have been more than three o’clock. In our little bubble, time had ceased to make any sense.

“As a kid I used to love watching my dad work. He was always so confident and good at what he did. I grew up with famous people coming to our house all the time. This one summer, before my mom and dad were divorced, they hosted a pool party with a lot of famous guests. I must’ve been twelve or thirteen at the time. I remember my best friend, Katie, and I were excited because there was talk that one of the Backstreet Boys was coming, and we were mad for the Backstreet Boys, so we hung around—in our bikinis, no less—hoping to catch sight of Nick, Kevin, Brian, AJ, or Howie.” I shook my head at the memory. “I can’t remember who we were expecting, now. But while we waited, the party got out of control. I remember Cassius Cannon—”

“—the basketballer?”

I nodded. “The one and only. He was there with his wife and his girlfriend. I didn’t understand it at the time but now, well, I’ve been doing this for a few years and, boy, I can tell you people are strange.” I sat up. “Anyway, Cassius OD’d on some bad shit. I remember seeing him talking to my dad and they were trying to work out him signing with Dad’s agency, when he collapsed.” I sighed at the memory. “Man, he just dropped like a big sack of potatoes. Then he started to convulse and foam at the mouth. Mom wanted to call 911 but Julius May was there—”

“—the famous surgeon? The one with the TV show?”

Again, I nodded. “The one and the same. He was a regular at all the wheeling and dealing parties. He had a shot of something in his car. I can still see him running out of the house and returning with a bag. He set up a shot of something and then plunged that syringe right into Cassius Cannon’s chest, a la Pulp Fiction style.” I shook my head, the memory as clear as if it was on Blu-ray. “It took a couple of seconds but then Cassius shot up with a rush, gasping, trying to catch his breath and moaning like a goddamn yeti.” I looked at Jake. “But you know what I remember most about that incident?”

Jake looked intrigued. “What?”

“It was what happened a few seconds after that. Cassius was still on the floor, granted he was sitting up, but my dad was standing over him so his face was level with his. And you know what my father said to him?” I paused. Still to this day, it surprised me. “As soon as Cassius came to he said, ‘so I guess we’ve got a deal, Cassius.’ They were his words. Like nothing had even happened. That death hadn’t just gotten all up in Cassius’s grill.” I scoffed. “So I guess we’ve got a deal.”

Jake balked and shook his head.

“You look shocked,” I said.

“I am.”

“Why?” He knew my father. He knew how ruthless and determined he could be.

“I thought you had better taste in music,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at me. “The Backstreet Boys . . . really?”

“I was thirteen.”

“And deaf?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Jake did, too. But when our smiles faded our eyes lingered on one another.

I had to break the spell, so I yawned and stretched. It was exhausting doing nothing. As I arched and extended my back and arms, my eyes fell to the CD player under the small TV. It was the first time I’d noticed it and it gave me a sudden need for music.

“A CD player.” I grinned at Jake and winked. “So old school.”

Jake’s gaze went from me to the old CD player.

“My granddad bought it at a local flea market,” he explained. He was sitting on the floor with his long legs stretched out in front of him. Today was particularly cold and he was wearing a beanie. “He used to have an old wireless to pick up the jazz and blues station in Saskatoon. But when that old Motorola finally gave up the ghost, we all ganged up on him and told him he had to get with the times.” A hint of a smile played on his lips and then he shook his head at the memory. “He hadn’t gotten around to buying any CDs for it. Hell, I don’t know if he even got to turn it on.” He sighed. “He died less than a week later.”

I bit my lip. How was it possible that one man had lost so much in such a small amount of time?

We definitely needed some music.

Climbing off the sofa, I scooted across the floor to the CD player. I pressed the on button, and the tray whined as it popped out to reveal one lonesome CD inside. Closing it, I hit play and Dire Straits, Romeo and Juliet, filled the room.

We were silent for a moment as Mark Knofler’s painful lyrics pulled us into the tragic love story.

I sighed and when I looked over at Jake he was already looking at me.

“You don’t like this song?” he asked.

“On the contrary,” I replied. “I love it. It is the most romantic song in the world.”

Going by the look he gave me, Jake clearly disagreed. “I think it’s more tragic than romantic.”

“You think? Why?”

“Listen to the words . . .” he said.

We were both quiet for a moment as we absorbed the lyrics.

“Romeo’s heart is breaking because Juliet has cast him aside,” Jake explained. “But he can’t let her go. Can’t move on like she has and it is torturing him to the point of desperation.”

Jake made it sound almost poetic.

“In some ways, yes. But listen to how in love with her he is.” I closed my eyes and sighed with the enthusiasm of a love-sick teen as Mark Knopfler sang about loaded dice and the impact one woman had on Romeo’s heart. “It’s so perfect.”

Jake wasn’t convinced. He looked back at the cards on the floor. “If you’re into tormenting the already broken hearted.”

I rolled my eyes and shifted position so I was on my side, my head propped up by my hand.

“Okay, then, what about this bit?” Jake said as we listened to Mark Knopfler singing about Romeo being unable to do anything but be in love with Juliet. “The guy is paralyzed by his feelings for her. How is that romantic?” he asked.

“You’re missing the point. It’s all about the feels?” I insisted. “The need. The adoration. That once-in-a-lifetime love. Juliet is Romeo’s once-in-a-lifetime girl.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “If I ever catch the feels, you have my permission to put me down. Preferably, before I start stepping out from the shade and stalking—” He stopped short when he realized what he was saying.

I smiled at him and then chuckled. “It’s okay, Jake. I was stalked. I survived.” I sat up and folded my arms across my chest. “Are you going to sidestep the word every time you come across it?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” I grinned. “Now what should we do next? Or are you not done massacring my favorite love song?”

“Scrabble?” he suggested.

I shook my head.

“Game of Life?”

Another shake of my head.

“Charades.”

I looked excited for all of a nanosecond and then sat back and gave him a disappointing, “nope.”

“You’re impossible,” he sighed.

“What about strip poker?” I raised my eyebrows. It was more of a dare than anything. I had no intention of actually playing.

“Strip poker?” He sounded surprised.

“We’ve played truth or dare. Sang karaoke.” I shrugged. “Strip poker seems like the natural progression.”

“Not a good idea.” He shook his head.

“Why?”

He fixed me with those fascinating eyes. “A snowed-in cabin. A man and a woman. Strip poker.” The look he gave me was dark and pure fucking heat. “We’ll end up naked and on that bed.”

Oh, God. I hadn’t expected him to say anything like that. And, hell, the way he said it—I wanted to end up naked and on that bed.

“You forget one thing,” I said.

“What?”

My eyes went to his. “I don’t plan on losing.”

*   *   *

We stared at each other for a moment and suddenly my mouth was as dry as a desert.

Finally, Jake looked away.

“Can I get you anything? A coffee? Wine?” he asked.

I glanced at the clock and I was surprised to see it was just after six.

“Wine,” I replied.

Jake stood up and crossed the room and it was damn near impossible not to watch him. The way he wore those cargo pants was almost criminal. He went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine out from the hidey-hole in the floor and opened it.

“I’m sorry about your granddad,” I said. “When did he pass away?” I asked. And then I realized with a sudden horror that maybe he, too, had died in the plane crash that had killed his parents and sister and that I had overlooked that detail in the stories I’d read.

“About two months before the rest of my family,” Jake replied quietly. Sadness swept over his face and he looked away for a moment, his brows slightly pulled in.

“I’m so sorry,” I said gently. “I can’t begin to even know what it must feel like. I’ve never lost anyone.”

“You’re kidding?” He went back to de-corking the wine. “You mean both of your grandparents are still alive?”

I nodded and watched as he collected two wine glasses from the kitchen cupboard and walked back to the table.

“What about breakups? That’s losing someone.” He poured the wine, adding, “Not that I would know.”

“Me neither.”

He looked at me with raised eyebrows and then looked doubtful. “Sure. A girl like you?”

“Whatever that means.”

Jake grinned. “It’s just . . . well, look at you. Girls who look as hot as you do have usually had a few cocks in their hen house.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

He grinned and went about pouring the wine.

“If I wasn’t so flattered that you just referred to me as ‘hot’, then I’d probably nudge you in the balls for stereotyping me.”

“Of course you would. I mean why stop at almost killing my fatherhood prospects with your pillow throwing this morning.”

“Fluffy pillow,” I reminded him.

He handed me a glass of wine. “Okay. So, you don’t have any breakups in the past. Is that because you’ve never dated? Or did you just get lucky and meet Mr. Right straight off the bat?”

I shrugged. “In high school I watched all my friends fall apart when it came to love and relationships. There was so much drama it was exhausting.” I took a sip of my wine and damn it was good.  “As far as relationships go I’m pretty much waiting for that cherry to be popped.”

 “So you what—fuck like a guy? Or are you celibate?”

“Boy, you don’t beat around the bush.”

“Haven’t you heard? Life is too short to talk in circles.”

“I take it as it . . . comes.” I grinned and when our eyes locked we both started to laugh. And God, he was beautiful when he laughed. His teeth were white and perfect and his eyes glittered with warmth. I didn’t care who you were or what you were into—Jake Pennington was gorgeous.

Sitting across from me laughing and sipping his wine, he looked like the old Jake I’d seen on the Internet. Before life had laid him on his ass.

He stretched and his shirt rose up giving me a sneak peak at those well-formed abs I would never get tired of admiring. He wore a belt to hold up his pants and a decorative buckle secured it over his zipper. Before I got distracted by those delicious abdominal muscles I made out the words National Hockey League etched into the pewter.

“See something you like?” Jake asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I wasn’t the type who blushed. Not usually, anyway. But Jake and his perfectly sculpted abs had my brain momentarily starved for oxygen because I forgot to breathe.

“Yes.” I met his gaze. “Your belt buckle.”

He pushed up his shirt again so I could get a better look at the buckle and damn there were those abs again. Right there in my face. Coupled with the belt and decorative hockey buckle, my body turned positively traitorous on me and began to ache and pulsate in places it shouldn’t.

“Z?”

“Yeah?”

“You can stop checking out my abs.”

Again, I met his gaze but he knew. He knew because my eyes were a dead giveaway. When faced with such a glorious sight, apparently I had the worst poker face in the world.

I sat back and folded my arms “So I was checking out your abs. Fire me.”

“No way. I’ll never fire you. I like having you as my agent. You show me boobs.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You dared me.”

“I never thought you’d actually do it.”

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

He grinned and sat back in his chair. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s play strip poker.”

I looked at him and thought of those glorious abs underneath his shirt.

He’d just seen that I had the worst poker face in the world.

I was in trouble.

Trou.Ble.

Oh, boy.

*   *   *

Chapter Fourteen

Jake

It was the second night I had a beautiful woman in my bed.

While my mind was determined to keep things as PG as a Disney movie, my body was begging me to get X-rated and touch this woman.

Thank Christ we hadn’t played strip poker and had opted for Scrabble instead.

“You owe me a story,” Mackenzie said, her voice smoky. When I turned to look at her she was lying on her back looking up at the ceiling. Noticing me looking at her she smiled and something burst inside of me. Without a word, she wiggled onto her side and as if it was the most natural thing in the world, laid her head on my chest.

The combination of her heat surrounding me, and the sensation of her cheek pressed against my chest, was almost too much.

“Everybody knows my story.” My voice was husky. Because damn, I was at war with my body.

“True,” she murmured. “But if you feel up to it, I’d like to hear it from you.”

I sucked in a deep breath. I usually side-stepped the topic. But lying with this beautiful woman in my arms, I had a sudden urge to talk to her about it. To open up and empty my heart of all the pain that made it want to burst at the seams. I didn’t understand why and to be honest, it kind of freaked me out. But at the same time there was something very comforting about wanting to share this with her. Because if I was really honest, this woman was finding her way through my darkness and where she would end up, I had no idea. But a part of me was interested in finding out.

“I moved to New York when I joined the Ice Cats but my family remained in Canada. So every now and again they would fly down for one of the big games.” As I spoke I could see the faces of my family as clear as if they were standing in front of me. Yet it had been almost two years since I had seen them. “We were close. My old man and I . . . ”

I had to pause and let the surge of grief settle when I thought of the man who had helped shape me as a man and a player. The man who had been my greatest supporter. The man who was my hero and still was, even though he was long since buried in the ground.

“. . . he was one of my best friends. Since I was born he was there for me. Supporting me in everything I wanted to do. Always bolstering me up, telling me I could do anything I wanted if I put my heart into it. I guess that’s why I was such a confident kid. I never doubted if I could do something, because I was constantly told I could. I remember my first skate—my old man calling out to me, reminding me if I put my heart into it I would be able to do it. And, damn, he was right. Those skates were like an extension of my legs and it came naturally to me.” I gave a small chuckle as I remembered my dad that day, standing on that frozen pond, laughing and clapping his hands, calling out ‘you’ll be in the NHL one day, boyo’ and ‘look at my son, the hockey player’.

I closed my eyes as the pain soared through me. What I would give for just one more day with him. For one more handshake, or hug. I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the cold ache in my throat. Mackenzie squeezed me just enough to pull me back from sinking into a deep hole of despair and my arms tightened around her.

“They were flying down for the semi-final playoffs. We were playing the Winterhawks in California. I was going to take Michelle to Disneyland. Even though she was eighteen, she really wanted to go with her big brother, and to tell you the truth, I was really looking forward to it.”

Again, I swallowed hard.

“They couldn’t get an earlier flight because of Dad’s job, so I knew I wouldn’t see them before the game. I looked for them in the crowd. But I had my head in the game so when I couldn’t see them straight away, I didn’t think anything of it. I knew I would catch them afterwards.” I inhaled and then exhaled deeply. “They told me after the game about the plane crash. It had happened just after take-off. Engine failure, they said. One minute the plane was in the sky; the next—it wasn’t. There were no survivors.”

Mackenzie held me tighter. But she also pressed her lips against my jaw in a quick kiss. It was a move that sent a strange feeling tumbling through me. I had only known this woman for such a brief amount of time, yet it felt like a lifetime.

“I’m so sorry, Jake.” Her lips grazed my throat. “That’s so incredibly sad.”

I swallowed deeply. Remembering it sucked. Remembering it sucked big time. And I usually clammed up whenever the conversation turned toward my family’s tragic passing. But tonight the pain seemed muted and I could only put it down to the ridiculous amount of wine swirling through my veins, or the fact I felt crazily comfortable with my new cabin companion.

Our heads were sunken into the pillows and faced each other.

“Sometimes the bad things that happen to us put us on the right path toward the best things that happen to us,” she said quietly.

I liked the way she looked in the dim glow of the firelight. 

“You sound like a Facebook meme,” I replied.

“I think you’re right.” She gave me a close-lipped smile, her eyes sleepy. “I think I stole it from Facebook. Maybe Tumblr.”

I smiled across at her, suddenly very tired. “Goodnight, Z.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

I let my eyes linger on her for a moment longer before closing them and drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*   *   *

It was the warmth. That was what I felt first. A sweet, comforting warmth surrounding me and filling me with contentment as I slowly began to wake up.

The second thing I felt was the weight beside me, and the arm resting heavily across my abs. 

Third was the raging morning wood just south of where her arm was resting.

But none of it, none of it, compared to the happiness that warmed my insides when I realized I was lying in bed with Mackenzie and she was curled up against me. Sometime during the night I had secured my arms around her and now her limbs were tangled in mine. Strands of her glorious hair lay like silk ribbons across my shoulder and her cheek rested against my chest, so with every sleepy breath she took I felt the gentle whisper of air across my skin.

It was heaven.

Pure. Fucking. Heaven.

For the first time in a long time, I had woken up happy. Not with the gut-wrenching ache of grief that I had woken up to for as long as I could remember. I had actually woken up happy.

Wait.

My eyes flew open.

What the fuck was I saying?

I didn’t deserve this. The contentment. The feelings. The comfort.

Hell, no.

I wasn’t allowed any of it.

Realizing with horror that I’d let Mackenzie get too close, I decided to pull back. What did I think was going to happen? We would fall in love and she would make me forget what I had done?

Not fucking likely.

Things had already gone too far.

I carefully extracted myself from her embrace and quietly slipped from the bed.

It was better to do it now than later. I couldn’t get caught up in this surreal world we had created during the blizzard. It wasn’t real.

We weren’t real.

I looked up at the pull-up bar I had nailed to the roof near the window.

Yep. It was important to remember.

We weren’t real.

*   *   *

Chapter Fifteen

Mackenzie

I woke up to the sexiest set of abdominals I’d ever seen. Jake was up and doing pull-ups across the room, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweat pants that barely sat on his hips.

My eyes started at the point where his sweatpants met the sculpted V of his pelvis, then slowly moved up to a stomach of carved muscle. I blinked. He was absolutely ripped. And try as I might, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My brain told me to look away but my eyes had their own agenda. They were going to absorb as much of this eye-candy for as long as it was on show.

I bit into my lip to contain the sigh, spellbound by the pull and flex of his muscles beneath honey-toned skin. I was mesmerized and probably being a little bit creepy lying there as still as a mouse, watching him. But, hey, I was a hot-blooded woman.

I glanced at the window. It was still dark outside. My eyes darted to the clock above the window and in the dim light of the dying fire I could just make out the time. Two-thirty-eight AM.

I sat up.

“Boy, you’re really committed to your six-pack,” I joked, wiping sleep from my eyes.

I expected some kind of smart-ass retort from him, at least a sarcastic glance, but what I got was nothing.

Nada.

Not. A. Thing.

I sat up straighter. “Jake? Is everything okay?

He stopped his knee lifts and dropped to the floor. When he stood up he kneaded the palms of his hands with his thumbs.

“I don’t mean to burst your bubble or anything, Z, but I don’t exercise to look good or be healthy. Do you really think I give a fuck about my well-being?”

The scruffy jaw, unkempt hair and look of pure distain for life on his face told me that no—he was giving no fucks. But the six-pack and the thick bulge of muscles on his arms, chest and shoulders were beacons of hope that somewhere deep inside him, Jake Pennington was simply looking for a way out of the darkness.

“You train so hard,” I said hoarsely.

“You want to know why I train hard? It’s because it’s the only time I’m not thinking about Tyler and the fact that I killed him.”

There was a strange feeling in the air. This was the first time Jake had ever brought up the subject of Tyler and his death. Since meeting him at Squire Tucks three days ago, we had both managed to sidestep it, but I knew it was never far from his mind. And what he’d just told me confirmed it.

Silence hung between us for a moment before I spoke.

“It was an accident, Jake,” I said finally. “No one blames you for what happened.”

His jaw ticked as he thought about what I said. “I do.”

I walked across the bed on my knees and reached for him, taking his hand in mine and guiding him to sit down.

“I get that you do. But, Jake, self-blame is one of the worst demons to let into your head. I know. Because for a long time I blamed myself for what happened to me. I filled my head up with a lot of what ifs and it almost made me crazy.” My fingers tightened around his. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just like I didn’t.” I swallowed hard as Derek Jones’s face briefly swung before me. “Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. And that’s the simple truth.”

His beautiful gaze had dropped to our entwined fingers, so I gently shook them so he would look at me. “You need to move forward from the self-blame and start healing.”

He stood up abruptly, breaking our handholding, and I watched, fascinated by the movement of strong back muscles as he began his pull-ups again.

I felt powerless. Yet, I needed to do something to ease his pain.

“You know, after the incident . . . I felt like what happened to me was what defined me. That when people saw me it was like “oh, there’s Mackenzie Eden, you know, the one who was stalked and . . .”

Abducted. I still had a hard time saying it.

Abducted.

Abducted.

Abducted.

I closed my eyes. Yes, I had been abducted. But I had survived.  I was surviving.

“It took me a while before I realized that I was so much more than that.” I looked at him. He had stopped doing his pull-ups and was watching me intently. Light from a dying fire bounced off his smooth skin, deepening the shadows across his muscles. As he dropped to the floor again, his muscles rippled and flexed across his belly.

His voice was hoarse. “I’m pleased you found your way out of the darkness, Z. But I’m just not there yet.”

I nodded. People healed at their own pace. “You will be, one day.”

In the glow of the fire his face softened.

“You should go back to sleep,” he said.

“Only if you do.”

He raised an eyebrow and I felt the mood lift. “Is there any point in me fighting you?”

I grinned and relaxed. “I like that you’re a quick learner.”

His smile was subtle and closed-lipped, but at least it was a smile.

He climbed into bed and secured his arms around me, and I could feel the heavy thud of his heartbeat against my cheek.

I raised my face and it brushed the fullness of his beard. Without thinking, I reached up and ran my fingers through its thickness, enjoying the softness against my skin. I didn’t say anything, I just lay there listening to the thud of his heartbeat and falling in love with the heat of his body against mine.

It was Jake who broke the silence.

 “Tyler and I used to grow beards before the playoffs. I’d just started growing mine when he died.” I felt his chest sink and expand with a deep breath. “There didn’t seem any point in shaving it off at the time. And when I realized it allowed me a certain amount of anonymity I decided to keep it.”

“I like it,” I whispered.

“I do, too. It keeps the rest of the world out.”

I frowned and rose up on one elbow, and looked down into the depths of his blue eyes. In the light of a dying fire they gleamed like dark orbs of onyx.

“What do you mean?”

I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed deeply.

“I guess it makes me feel less exposed.” He turned his beautiful face to me and the vulnerability I saw there made my heart hurt with sadness. “People can’t see me and I don’t want them to.”

I had no words. Jake felt he needed to hide from the world, like some kind of monster and the thought was no less painful than a knife through my heart. When his tormented eyes found mine I longed to ease his pain.

“Do you think you will ever shave it off?” I asked.

He was quiet for a moment.

“Maybe one day,” he said. “If I ever have a reason to.”

My heart ached. But I didn’t reply right away. Instead, I lay back down and settled against him, pressing my cheek to his warm chest. My arm went around him.

“I sure hope that’s soon,” I murmured. “Because there’s a lot of people out there and you’re one of the best I’ve ever met.”

*   *   *

Chapter Sixteen

Mackenzie

On the third day it stopped snowing. The sky remained overcast but the wind stopped howling and a stillness descended along Moose Lake. I parted the curtains to the window overlooking the little porch out the front, and peered out into the winter wonderland. Snow blanketed as far as you could see. It sparkled in the trees and glistened along the slopes leading down to the lake. It was magical. And after two days in the tiny cabin, I needed to get out there.

I woke Jake up by throwing a snow jacket at him. “Let’s go stretch our legs. I’ve got a serious case of cabin fever.”

Looking tired, he glanced out the window. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine o’clock.”

He groaned as he turned his head and opened one eye to peep out at the window. “It’s stopped snowing.”

“How very perceptive of you.” I tugged on my red coat. “Come on. Let’s go stretch our legs.”

“No coffee first?”

“Coffee is for pussies.” I pulled his arm to get him out of bed. “Come on.”

But he shook me free. “Nuh-huh. If I don’t get coffee, you don’t get snow.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved my hands into my gloves. “Fine. Have your coffee. I’m going outside.”

Cold air blasted my face as I opened the front door, stinging my skin and burning my throat as I breathed it in. It was good to be outside. After two days inside it felt like a giant breath of fresh air.

Without wasting another moment, I crossed the tiny porch and bounced down the steps into the snow. I felt like a kid. I bent over and pulled snow into my hand to make a snowball. Once it was compact and perfect, I threw it toward one of the tall pines towering over the cabin where it hit a branch and exploded like confetti.

Jake’s voice startled me from behind. “You act like you’ve never seen snow before.”

I turned briefly to look at him. He was leaning casually in the doorway with a cup of coffee in hand and perfect grin on his perfect face. A sudden rush of desire bolted through me but I quickly squished it down. Clearly I had been oxygen-starved for the past two days and now it was fucking with me.

I turned away from him and his annoying good looks and took in the glittering snowscape around me.

“Hey, I’m from New Orleans. And now that I live in New York the only snow I see is usually reduced to slush on a sidewalk.” I had yet to see Central Park blanketed in snow. But from what I’d heard, it was stunning. “But this . . .” I held my arms out and made little circles in the air as I turned around in the snow. “This is amazing.”

I had a sudden urge to do so many things. Build snowmen. Create snow angels. Toboggan.

Snowflakes fell loose from the pine tree above us and fell like sprinkles on top of our shoulders.

I raised my hands out at my side. “I feel like I’m inside a snowglobe!”

Jake’s smile was big and white in the gloomy light, and that familiar flutter of butterflies took flight in my stomach at the sight of that breathtaking smile. I sucked in a deep breath to calm them.

“Let’s go for a walk!” I suggested.

“Sure,” he said, and I watched as he took a sip of his coffee and placed the cup on the little porch railing before descending the snow-covered steps to where I was standing.

“Show me Moose Lake,” I said, looping my arm through his.

Again, his grin was mesmerizing in the pale white light of a snow-capped morning.

We walked a few yards, our feet sinking into the fresh layers of snow and our breath leaving us in frosty puffs of air as we talked.

“My grandfather built out here before my father was even born. Back then, Moose Lake was considered the middle of nowhere. Grandpa cut a path through the tall pines to make a driveway and used the fallen logs to build the cabin. Felled and treated the logs himself.”

“He sounds like a pretty amazing guy,” I said.

Jake nodded. “Oh, he was. He was always so present. So available. He didn’t say much but when he did, it was sure worth listening to.” Jake looked at me. “You know, he used to play hockey professionally in the 50s?”

“No, really?”

“Gave it all up though when he met my grandma,” he said, smiling at the memory. “She was a cigarette girl. He would watch her weave her way through the arena seats in her short dress and little hat, selling her cigarettes from a tray hanging from her neck strap. Said he knew she was the one for him. His one and only.”

“His Juliet?”

He smiled warmly and his eyes twinkled across at me. “Yes. His Juliet.”

“What happened? Did he woo her? Show off to her on the ice?”

“He asked her out and she said no because even back then pro-athletes could be rascals and some didn’t take their relationships seriously. So he promised her he would ask her out everyday until she said yes, just so she could see how serious he was.”

“And?”

“And it took precisely five months and three days for her to finally agree.” Again, he smiled at the memory. “Four months later they were married.”

“Wow. He spent more time asking her out than he did courting her.”

Jake nodded. “Yes. But when it’s right . . .”

I looked up at him. “I like that story.”

I stopped walking and my eyes settled on the frozen lake I’d driven past three days earlier.

“Welcome to Moose Lake,” Jake said.

The lake was much larger than the small pond I had seen from Jake’s kitchen window. It stretched out for miles toward a foggy horizon and was fringed by tall, snow-capped pine trees.

I let go of Jake’s arm and started walking out onto the frozen water.

“What are you doing, Z?”

“Would you believe I’ve never been on ice before?” I called over my shoulder.

“Maybe now isn’t a good time to start.”

I ignored him and focused on not slipping and landing on my ass.

“Z, I’m not kidding. You’ll break your ankle.”

I was several yards out on the ice when I turned around to look at him, my arms up at my side. “You know, this is a lot easier than you guys make it look,” I teased.

“Says the girl wearing boots and not blades.”

“You know, I think I’d be good at—”

I heard the snap, felt the crack and with a rush I plummeted into the icy water below me. One minute I was looking at Jake on the shore; the next I was plunged into an icy darkness that literally stole the breath from my lungs. I saw stars. And it was so dark I had no idea which way was up or down.

Panic tore threw me. 

I was deep beneath the ice and no one would be able to find me.

*   *   *

Chapter Seventeen

Jake

One second she was there and the next she was gone. It took me a nanosecond to realize what had happened.

“Mackenzie!” I ran onto the pond, slipping and scrambling across the frozen water toward the dark, star-shaped break in the ice.  I had to take it easy as I neared the hole, careful not to break the thin ice under me. If I went in, we were both fucked.

The water was black. Luckily Mackenzie was wearing a red coat so I could just make out the tiny ribbon of colour in the deep darkness.

Plunging my arm into the freezing water I felt for her and when my hand touched the fabric of her jacket I pulled her upwards. But she was a heavy weight and slipped right out of my grasp. Her clothes had filled with water, making it a tug of war between me and the lake water. Fear tore through me, second only to the adrenaline firing through every nerve and fiber in my body. She was unresponsive, not struggling against the pull of the water or reaching out for me, and I prayed it was because the cold had stunned her and not because I was too late and she had already drowned.

With one last reach, my frozen fingers clutched the fabric of her coat and launched her upwards. Her head broke the surface but her eyes were closed and her lips were already blue. But as soon as the cold wind hit her face her eyes opened wide and she gasped. I hauled her out, dragging her across the ice to the safety of shore and held her in my arms. Wide eyes blinked up at me and she started to shake. Getting to my feet I ran us across the snow-covered lawn and into the cabin.  All the wet parts of me were freezing so I could only imagine how cold she was feeling.

I knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Hypothermia was swift. Removing her coat, I sat her down beside the fire and grabbed a blanket from the sofa and pulled it on top of us.  I held her against me and she shook in my arms.

“It’s okay,” I tried my best to sound soothing.

She nodded and clutched my shirt, pressing her face to my chest. But her trembling was getting worse and I knew she had inhaled a lot of water.

“I’m going to run you a bath, okay.”

“N-no,” she stammered, clutching me tighter.

“It’s okay Z, you’re going to be fine. But I need to get you warm and a bath is the best way.” I didn’t tell her about needing to ring for an ambulance. I’d heard about people drowning after being pulled from the water because they had breathed in too much water and later died from it. But I didn’t want to scare her.

I brushed my hand across her face, suddenly aware of how smooth and beautiful her skin felt to touch.

“I’ll only be gone for a moment,” I said gently, not wanting to let her go but knowing how important it was to get her temperature back up.

I left her in front of the fire and went to the small bathroom in the little alcove off from the kitchen. I dropped to my knees by the tub, praying the heating system my granddad had designed to stop the water pipes from freezing over worked, and felt a rush of relief when warm water burst from the tap.

While I waited for it to fill I attempted to phoned the ambulance but at some stage the blizzard had taken out the phone lines.

Fuck.

Okay. We were in this alone but we would be fine because maybe I had miscalculated how long she’d been under and perhaps she hadn’t inhaled as much water as I’d originally thought. And I would bring her body temperature back up and she wouldn’t die from hypothermia.

I knelt down next to her as she shivered by the fire.

We were going to get through this. And we were going to get through this together.

“I need to get you out of your wet clothes and into the bath, okay? It will help get you warm.”

She looked up at me, her eyelashes still dripping with water, and nodded.

“Is this y-your way of getting me n-naked?” she joked weakly, a small grin tugging on her pale lips.

I smiled at her. Relieved she wasn’t as rattled as she could be. Winking, I said, “Well, I’ve already seen your rack.”

She chuckled softly which unfortunately set off a coughing fit. Kneeling next to her I rubbed her back until the coughing subsided and she could catch her breath. Then because her numb legs refused to work, I carried her over to the tub and stripped off her wet clothes until she was in nothing but her bra and . . . damn it, was she wearing a thong?

A lace thong?

I forced all thoughts of her underwear out of my head.

Well, I tried to. But it was kind of hard when her panties were barely there. And to be honest, if I wasn’t so worried about her well-being, I would outwardly groan at how sexy as fuck they were because mentally I was in the midst of a visual orgasm. And don’t even get me started on her ass.

But this wasn’t the time. And I didn’t let my eyes go there as I lifted her up and gently placed her in the warm water, careful to ease her in slowly so it didn’t hurt her skin. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned. “Oh, God, that’s good,” she whispered.

I was relieved. But hell, she needed to stop moaning like that.

I knelt next to the bath keeping my hand in the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Mackenzie would be numb so the last thing I wanted was to burn her. Color was returning to her lips and her skin didn’t look so sickly white. But her chin still quivered as she settled into the warm water.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, watching her. Trying to ignore the look of bliss forming across her face.

She nodded and shivered at the same time. “I’m going to be okay. If I can just get warm.”

She sat in the center of the tub, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her head fell back exposing her glorious white throat to me, and she closed her eyes.

“How’s your breathing?”

“It’s good.”

“Are you sure?”

She opened one eye to me and gave me a tired smile. “I know you’re worried. But I’m not going to drown on you, Jake. I didn’t inhale that much water. It stunned me more than anything.” 

“When I pulled you out . . . it looked like you weren’t breathing.”

“Maybe it was shock.” She smiled up at me. “Jake, you don’t need to worry about me. I am feeling better by the minute.”

Color had started to return to her complexion and her eyes had their sparkle back.

“You know what would be really good?”

“What?”

“Hot cocoa and sleep.”

I wasn’t sure if sleep was such a good idea. Was I supposed to keep her awake?

But hot cocoa I could do. In fact, I was kind of an expert at it.

While I made hot cocoa in the kitchenette next to the bathroom, Mackenzie added more hot water to the tub and sank lower into the water, resting her head against the porcelain. Again with the moaning. Every time she made those noises I felt them all the way along my dick. What the fuck was wrong with me? The poor girl had fallen into the lake, almost drowned, and all I could think about was what I would do to her to make her moan even louder.

I had officially entered douche territory.

To stop myself from being such an ass I busied myself with the hot cocoa. My mom taught me how to make it as a kid and it was the best hot cocoa this side of the border. But I hadn’t made them in more than two years. In fact, the last time I’d had one had been my last trip to Canada, a couple of weeks before the . . . I shook off the thought just as the tight squeeze of heartache spread across my chest, and grabbing the chocolate flakes from the pantry I finished off the hot cocoa masterpieces.

But when I walked into the bathroom and saw Mackenzie I was stalled by how beautiful she looked, and something in me stirred and tilted, and changed.

Oh, hell. Was this chick getting to me?

It was one thing to think about how hot she was, and maybe how good it would be to feel her underneath me. But beautiful?

What the fuck was happening to me?

I didn’t want to let anyone in. I didn’t deserve it. Not after what I’d done.

But this girl—

“Jake?” Mackenzie’s voice brought me back. “Are you okay?”

It took me a moment to realize I was standing there like a psycho, clutching her hot cocoa in my hand.

I handed her the mug. “Call me if you need anything.” And with that I walked out of the bathroom and sat at the table where I poured myself a stiff bourbon.

Things were changing.

I was changing.

*   *   *

After her bath and hot cocoa, Mackenzie dried off and slipped on another one of my flannel shirts and a pair of thick, woollen socks. She still shivered and hugged a blanket around her as I helped her from the bathroom to the bed. As she lay down, she trembled.

“It’s so c-cold.” Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt and with a small tug she pulled me down to her.

She said she was okay but I still wanted her to get medical attention.

“Ssssh.” She placed her finger across my lips and it was this simple move that stole my resolve. She blinked up at me. “I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.  I just need you to hold me.”

Such a simple request. Yet my heart banged against the wall of my chest.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against my bare chest.

“You’re so warm,” she murmured, her breath a gentle whisper against my skin. My body filled with a crazy amount of need to be closer to her. Which was impossible, because any closer and I’d be inside her.

Damn. I had not just thought that.

Yet, according to the action taking place in my sweatpants, I had.

I squeezed my eyes closed to keep the thoughts out of my head. She needed to be held. Not felt up.

But tell that to my body. While my brain struggled to remain chivalrous, my body had other ideas.

I was a man.

A man who hadn’t been with a woman in almost a year.

And now I was lying next to one of the most attractive—most annoyingly incredible—women I had ever met, and her beautiful body was all pressed up against me. Jesus, this was going to give me a serious case of blue balls.

She shuddered against me again and instinctively I tightened my arms around her.

I ran a hand across her cheek to tangle in her hair, pulling her head tighter against me and she moaned.

I bit back a groan. I wanted her to touch me but at the same time I didn’t. Because I didn’t know how much restraint I had to not touch her back. But her warmth, it engulfed me, and sucked me closer to her until I reached for her. I felt her flinch. Heard her moan as my fingers found her hipbone and tentatively rested against the smooth curve. She pressed the palm of her hand against my chest, her fingers splayed across muscle, and then slid her arm around me as she murmured something inaudible against my chest. I could feel her body waking up against mine, but mine was already wide-awake and screaming at me to touch this woman.

The warmth surrounding us was incredible. Intoxicating. Filling my mind with light. Hope. Peace. My heart was a wild cat in my chest.

She was so warm and her skin was so soft . . . and, Jesus, I hadn’t touched a woman in so long.

“You’re so warm,” she whispered against my chest. And then she pulled back to look at me. Her shivering had stopped and the intimacy of what we were doing crackled between us. Her lips gently parted and she sighed, realizing what was happening.

“Jake,” she whispered.

She didn’t move away and I was seconds away from leaning down and kissing her. Minutes away from climbing between her legs and doing all the things I shouldn’t want to do to her but desperately did. But a log exploded in the fireplace and the noise filled the room, breaking the spell. Our eyes met again, and the red-hot desire I had seen in her beautiful brown eyes a few moments ago eddied like the tide.

“I’m so tired,” she murmured.

I smiled down at her and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to my chest.

“You should rest.” With one hand I held her to me, while the other tenderly stroked her shoulder. Within minutes her breathing slowed and she was asleep.

While I was wide awake and reeling at how much I wanted this woman.

*   *   *

Chapter Eighteen

Mackenzie

I don’t know what woke me up. But the moment I opened my eyes, I realized the space beside me was empty. It was dark in the cabin, except for the soft glow of the fire. Sitting up I saw Jake in one of the dining chairs across the room, wearing nothing but jeans, his chest and feet bare. He was turned away from the fire and the glow of flames lit the deep contours of his muscular back.

He stared off into space as he absentmindedly played with something in his hand, flipping it end to end on the table.

It took me a moment to realize it was a closed straight razor. Like a barber would use.

I sat up. “Jake?”

He turned at the sound of my voice and the twirling of the razor stopped. “Hey, sorry if I woke you.”

“Is everything okay?”

When he didn’t move or answer me I pulled back the covers and climbed out of the bed.

Jake stared off into space again and the razor twirling resumed.

I went to him and he looked up at me, his sad, beautiful eyes tracking my every move. As I put my hand over his I met his gaze and something buzzed between us.

I became excruciatingly aware of his bare stomach and the heavily carved muscles and deep V disappearing beneath his jeans. I became aware of the flex and bulge of his strong biceps and the way his solid pectorals were deepened in shadow and as smooth as polished stone.

I also became aware of how his pulse throbbed against his throat as he gazed up at me with eyes full of unhappiness. 

Without another thought, I slid onto his lap to straddle him and he reached around to secure his hands around my hips. Using all of my self-restraint, I ignored the fact that the denim of his jeans and the barely-there fabric of my panties were all that separated our bodies. But it was damn near impossible when the most intimate parts of me brushed against the hard lump of his zipper. And he was warm. Oh, so warm.

I laced my hands behind his neck and looked deep into his eyes. The infinite sadness I saw there made my heart swell with pain. In that moment I wanted to take that pain away. More than anything in the world, I wanted to take all his pain from him.

My eyes dropped to his beard and I remembered what he said about it—that it was another way he shielded himself from the world that had done nothing but take from him over the past two years.

Yet now he was sitting here with a straight razor in his hand and I wondered if he was contemplating shaving his beard off.

I touched him gently.

“Do you want me to shave you?” I asked softly.

He hesitated, his sad eyes searching mine for a moment and then without a word, he nodded.

“Okay,” I whispered and reached for the shaving cream.

I had never shaved anyone before.

I had never wanted to.

But now, doing this for Jake, it was one of the most erotic encounters of my life.

There was something incredibly intimate and loving about it. Sitting on his lap. Gently coating his face in white cream and then delicately wiping it smooth with the blade. I took my time, careful not to cut him or to miss a single strand of hair. I could feel his breath on my skin, and those bright, penetrating eyes that never once left my face.

I paused to put down the razor and pick up the towel off the table, and the little change in direction sent pleasure shooting through me, giving me a glimpse of what was waiting for me if I just gave in to my body’s sudden need. But I wasn’t going to give in. No matter how much I needed the satisfaction. Because Jake was my client. And he was a beautiful, incredible man who had been wounded beyond belief, and didn’t need me complicating his life.

Using the towel, I gently wiped the left over shaving cream from his face but was stopped in my tracks by the beautiful face in front of me.

Clean-shaven and completely vulnerable, Jake Pennington was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

I sat back.

Speechless.

In that moment, every inch of my being wanted to kiss him. To touch him. To love him. The feelings were unexpected and completely foreign to me, but sitting there, intimately straddling him, I became lost in his beautiful face and couldn’t tear my eyes off him. I shivered and sucked in a deep breath to calm my bolting heart.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered as I reached up and touched a perfect eyebrow with my thumb, then trailed the backs of my fingers down his face to the sharp curve of his jaw.

He shifted beneath me slightly and a thousand tiny pulses tingled at the very core of me. The delicate fabric of my panties brushed against the hardness of his jeans and I shivered. My body was suddenly full of urges I couldn’t hide from him. I pressed gently against him a fraction more and my breath escaped me in a soft moan that was impossible to control.

Jake raised his beautiful eyes to me and they were dark and glassy, and full of heat. He wanted this. He wanted me to move against him, to move against the growing hardness behind the zipper of his jeans. His hands reached around to cup my hips, and shifted slightly. It put him right where I needed him to be and provided the perfect friction between us.

I began to slowly roll my hips and his lips parted with a gasp and his eyes begged me to keep going. Need tore through my veins.

“Jake . . .” I whispered his name shakily as every muscle in the most intimate part of me clenched and pulsed with unstoppable need. But his name was swallowed by the urgent moan escaping my mouth as convulsions gripped me. Heat and pleasure coiled and coursed through me. He was hard. So damn hard. And suddenly the rubbing wasn’t enough. I wanted him in me. Desperately. And my toes curled as I pushed down harder, my body feeling like a freight train, rushing toward an unknown destination and ready to take out anything that got in its way.

He moaned and I could see he would come undone if I kept moving against him. But I was already there. And with one slow grind against his hardness, my eyes clamped to his and I unravelled on top of him, dropping my head back as euphoria rushed through me and I came.

Bright light and pleasure erupted like lightning across the sticky plains of my brain and for one blissful moment I felt swept away on a sweet wave of bliss and not giving a damn about the consequences. Days of pent-up desire surged forth and I shuddered, moaning his name before falling against him like a ragdoll.

As the pleasure of my orgasm slowly eddied away, the cold reality of what I had just done prickled down my spine and I sat up straight. Renewed sensitivity made me flinch.

 “Oh, my God, Jake, I’m sorry—”

But my words were lost as Jake sealed his mouth to mine in a hot, desperate kiss. With a deep moan he scooped me up in his strong arms and carried me across the room to the bed, where he lay me down and slid across me, his chest gleaming like cut stone in the shadows.

His eyes were dark as he said, “Let’s see if I can make that happen at least another two or three times.”

And without another word, he leaned down and kissed me hard.

*   *   *

Jake

It had been almost a year since I’d made love and I had no idea how I was going to make it last. But I was determined. Despite how good Mackenzie felt beneath me, I would not give in to the ecstasy. I meant what I’d said, I wanted to give her two or three more orgasms. Why? Because she looked so fucking amazing when she came and I wanted to hear and see her come and come again. So I was going to do my damndest to make it last. I would think of hockey, if I had to. I would do mathematical equations in my head or try to remember quotes from the Bible if it stopped me from blowing this. Forgive the pun.

Her orgasm had made her sensitive so when I pushed into her, she cried out and gripped the sheet beneath her. Christ, she was tight. And so creamy—it was like sliding into heaven.

I couldn’t stop the moan that rumbled from deep within my chest. I pushed up on my arms to look into her eyes and they were darkened pools of heat, and the look on her face made me want to give in to every urge that was begging me to thrust harder and come. But I wouldn’t. I wanted this to last. To take time. To make it matter. And when I moved in her and gently brushed against the soft, creamy parts of her, she whimpered long and desperate, and clenched her thighs tightly around my hips. Christ, I didn’t remember it ever feeling as good as this. Ever. I dropped my head to kiss her and she kissed me back, deep and with longing, and I realized I could lose hours to kissing this woman. To making love to her. To making her moan and grip my shoulders, as I pushed deep and hard into her.

“Jake . . .” My name fell from her lips in a luxuriously rich moan and our eyes met once more as she pulsed around me, her convulsing muscles pulling my orgasm from me.

The world was suddenly white and my brain tilted on its axis as my cock pulsed into her, filling her, making her whimper.

As my climax began to wane, I collapsed on her, blanketing her with my body. Heat from our bodies engulfed us, and I became aware of our hearts thumping wildly between us. I pulled out of her and the soft little whimper that escaped her was enough to reawaken every need inside of me. A need that began to coil below my abs.

And apparently, Mackenzie was ready to satisfy her own lingering needs.

“That’s two,” she whispered huskily, rising up and sliding her legs on either side of me. “You promised me three.”

My cock leapt to life and she sank down on it.

“But I’m going to aim for four,” she moaned as I throbbed inside of her.

And we both responded with an unbridled passion that consumed us deep into the early hours of the morning.

*   *   *

Chapter Nineteen

Mackenzie

As soon as I woke up I knew something was different. The sun was out and it had stopped snowing. I was also alone.

Jake was gone.

I sat up and looked around. The cabin was empty, although there was a fresh log on the fire. I shivered and realized I was naked. That’s when the previous night’s lovemaking came tumbling back to me. Me shaving Jake and then grinding against the bulge of his erection until I came on his lap. Jake lifting me up and carrying me to the bed where he lay me down. Him ripping open the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling the thin film of latex over the head of his cock and down the thick shaft. His fierce kissing. His magnificent, naked body. His talented hands and tongue . . . his glorious cock and what he did to me with it.

My body throbbed at the memory. The way his naked body slid across mine. The rhythm of his hips as he pushed into me. The warmth of his abs against mine. The curl of his fingers as they entwined with mine above my head. The gentle whisper of his breath on my throat as he moaned desperately in my ear. Warmth spread through me and I began to pulse with the need to revisit all those things. And I couldn’t help but smile. Even if I had crossed the line separating client and lover I wouldn’t change one thing about last night.

Because in the glow of what we had done I simply didn’t care.

Heat swirled through me as the previous night continued to unfurl. The way he moved into me, slow and controlled, his deep, tortured moan warming the soft curve of my neck. The lingering scent of shaving cream on his skin. The taste of him on my tongue. The sheer strength of him as he filled me. Him tangling his fingers through my hair and the sensation of him gripping the base of my skull. The sound of his moan, deep and urgent as he came.

Grabbing my discarded shirt from the end of the bed, and other pieces of clothing littered across the floor, I dressed quickly and went to the window over the little sink in the kitchen. I wasn’t going to think about the consequences of what I had done. Not today. Not when I felt so . . . unbroken.

Parting the curtains, I looked out onto the bright wintery day. A pristine layer of snow had fallen overnight and blanketed as far as the eye could see but the sun was trying to break througfh the gossamer sky and cast a warm glow across the snowscape.

In the distance, something caught my attention out on the pond. I squinted my eyes. It was Jake.

And he was in skates.

I will never skate again.

The awareness zipped across my brain like a firecracker, and hope and promise curled in my heart. Jake was on the ice. Jake was skating. Jake had changed his mind.

I picked up my phone from the table and shrugged on my coat and gloves.

I will never play hockey again.

He had said that. He had really said that. Yet there he was on the ice.

I rushed from the cabin and frosty air slapped my cheeks so I pulled my coat around me tighter and headed out into the winter wonderland. Snow crunched beneath my boots as I passed by the tall pines flanking the pond. Smaller than Moose Lake, the pond sat on the other side of an alpine grove and was no bigger than a hockey rink

As I got closer I could see Jake more clearly on the ice. He was skating without effort, his hockey stick playing with the puck as he tore across the frozen pond with effortless speed.

When I made it to the top of a small rise just short of the pond, I stopped to watch. Without thinking I took out my phone and started to record Jake’s impressive moves. He was as fast as the wind, his feet fluid as he changed direction, stepping and turning with ease. It was like he was dancing with the puck across the ice, toying with it with his hockey stick, gliding freely across the glittering ice. He was so mesmerizing, I let my phone drop to my hip so I could take it all in. The gliding. The chattering. The hop stepping. The harsh turns that ripped up the ice and sprayed powder in a cloud across the frozen pond.

“Look at you . . .” I whispered.

Jake hadn’t lost it.

Suddenly the idea that Jake would carry the Galveston Fury to the playoffs wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

Excited, I ran down the hill to the edge of the pond and when he saw me he skated over to me. Emotion burst in my chest when I looked up into his freshly shaven face. I hadn’t seen him in the daylight without his beard. He wasn’t just beautiful. He was devastating.

“You look like you were having fun,” I said.

He grinned and it shot desire right through me. And I wondered if it would be too forward of me to drag him back to the log cabin and revisit all the things we had done the night before.

“Maybe.” He winked and then cast his eye around him as if he was taking in the beauty of the weather. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, yeah?”

His eyes glittered down at me. “Yeah. You were snoring so I—”

I gave him a friendly punch to the chest. “I don’t snore!”

He chuckled. “I am so going to record it.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “You’ll do no such thing, you weirdo!”

We smiled at each other and something shimmered between us. Something magical, something so amazing it made my stomach turn and twist with excitement. It was a strange feeling, one that was completely alien and it spiraled through to the very core of me. I grabbed my lower lip with my teeth and sucked in a deep breath as the air around us crackled with whatever was happening between us.

“So what inspired you to try them on for size?” I asked, gesturing toward his skates because I was so desperate to break the spellbinding gaze holding us. “I thought you didn’t skate anymore?” I teased, squinting up at him.

That irresistible grin of his deepened his dimples. “Z, you showed me your rack. Serenaded me with Olivia Newton-John. And then threw yourself in the pond—”

“It wasn’t so much as a throw . . . more like a plummet to my death, kinda thing.”

“Whatever. Throw. Plummet. The point is, I owe you a skate, so here I am.” On skates he towered over me and when he looked down at me his face was full of affection.  “You also kissed me,” he said softly. “So it’s the least I can do.”

The way he said it made my cheeks burn.

Flustered, I bit the inside of my mouth and managed a mumble, “You kinda kissed me.”

He grinned again. But this time there was something more to it. Heat filled his gaze and as he leaned in closer so I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. “Uh-uh. You kissed me. And then you got off on my lap.”

Now my cheeks really burned and I figured a second plummet into the icy waters wouldn’t be quite so bad about then. “We both got off with me on your lap.”

He grinned but his eyes were dark and his voice was low and husky. “And it was incredible. Watching you come as you rubbed yourself against me. Making me want you. Making me hard.” He leaned even closer. “Then making me come.”

Oh, boy.

Remembering the orgasms, my body fluttered with a thousand tiny pulses. Remembering what he did to my body as he made love to me gave me goosebumps over every inch of my skin. Muscles clenched and I felt an overwhelming need to feel him inside me again. I closed my eyes against my desire, afraid Jake would see—afraid they would betray me and reveal just how much I wanted him.

“You saved my life. So it seemed kind of appropriate,” I whispered.

His eyes glittered down at me in the early morning light. And when he smiled his teeth were white and perfectly straight as they sat on his bottom lip.

He literally took my breath away.

“Tell me, do I get to kiss you again?” he asked and I heard the hiss of air as he inhaled deeply, like the thought did things to him. “Because I really want to.”

My mouth parted, willing it to happen. “You do?”

I didn’t know why I was being so coy. But Jake Pennington did things to me that no other man had ever done. He made me nervous because he was just so damn beautiful.

“Hell, yeah, I want to kiss you…” He cocked a brow as he looked down at me, inching closer so I could feel his warmth against me. “. . . and all the rest.”

Suddenly I was a slave to the heat throbbing between my thighs, and I couldn’t move. All I wanted was for him to touch me. And more. So much more. I wanted him to take me back to that cabin and do all the things he’d done to me the night before. I was desperate to feel it. The heat. The soft warmth of his abs as he pushed into me.  The feeling of fullness when he was inside of me.

But I didn’t get to respond because five kids appeared from the pocket of trees beside the pond and skated up to us, the fifth one slamming his small body into Jake’s legs. They excitedly began to tease Jake, asking him who I was, would I play hockey with them and was I his girlfriend?

Jake did quick introductions. They were five of the eight Redwing children. The twins, Samara and Luka, were about eight or nine, and they were holding onto the youngest of the group, Locky, who Samara announced was four. Next was ten-year-old Emma, and then the oldest of the group was twelve-year-old Nathaniel.

They were masters on skates. Except Locky, who, despite being confident for his age, still looked like a newborn foal learning to walk.

“Will you play with us, Jake?” Nathaniel asked keenly.

“We could have a team of three,” Emma said.

Jake looked at me with a face that said how can I refuse?

But before they could start playing, Billy appeared, and again, I was taken back by how huge he was.

“I could hardly hold them back when they saw you were out here,” he said to Jake, gesturing to his children who were now pushing a puck around the pond.

Jake nodded toward Nathaniel who had control of it. “Looks like you’ve got a Gretsky on your hands.”

“Here’s hoping.” Billy turned to me smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides and his face bright with warmth and kindness. “Nice to see you again.”

“You, too.”

He turned back to Jake. “I need a favor.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Overnight, one of the grey pines fell down on the wood nook and it’s caved in. I was hoping you’d help me break it up and patch the roof.”

My heart dipped a little. Damn. I was hoping to get Jake back to the cabin and naked, stat. But what they were talking about sounded like it might take them a while.

Jake didn’t hesitate. “I’ll bring the chainsaw. It will make light work of it.”

“Alice said there’s a dinner and some maple syrup pie in it for you.” Again, Billy turned to look at me. “My wife’s a good cook and Sasquatch here is a fool for her maple syrup pie. We’d both love it if you’d join us.”

I looked at Jake who was waiting for my response.

“Sure. I’d love to come to dinner.” I smiled brightly.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal,” Jake said.

When Billy left, Jake glided across the small patch of ice between us.

“You’re going to love Alice’s maple syrup pie,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” His smile faded. “There’s just one thing. . .”

“What?”

“It’ll be dark when we get back,” he said.

“Meaning?” I couldn’t hide the hope from my voice.

“Meaning you’re going to have to stay another night.” The way he was looking at me and the tone in his voice told me so much more than what his words did. They told me that last night was only a hint of what was to come.

The tension in my stomach instantly vanished and was replaced by a swooping excitement.

I got one more night.

One more night with Jake.

*   *   *

Chapter Twenty

Mackenzie

After spending the day helping Billy Redwing remove the fallen tree from his outdoor firewood nook, and repairing the damage to the roof, Jake drove back to pick me up from the small, snow-laden cabin by the lake. I had spent the day reading by the fire, something I’d grown fond of over the past two days. Without phone or Internet service, there was little else to do and with the day stretching out before me I had taken another James Patterson novel from the bookcase and devoured it. At first I thought I would be restless—thought the quiet and the time alone might allow my fears and anxiety to find me—but they didn’t and I had actually relaxed. No. I had completely and utterly found my peace and quiet.

When Jake pulled in, excitement fluttered throughout my body. Just the sight of him was enough to release the butterflies in my stomach.

I watched, fascinated, as he bound up the little steps to the porch and pulled me into his arms. He kissed me fiercely, like he hadn’t seen me in days, and within seconds his kiss had awakened every sexual need in my body.

I pulled away, breathless. “Either we go to dinner, or you take every piece of clothing off my body right now and fuck me.”

Heat glowed in his eyes and he dragged in a deep breath as if he was controlling a raw urge. “Believe me, every part of me wants that.” He pressed his teeth to his lower lip and the need on his face was rampant. But it faded and he looked regretful. “I promised Alice we’d be at dinner by six and she was already putting the spaghetti on when I left.”

Disappointment coursed through me, dampening the fires Jake had only just ignited, but I recovered quickly.

“Well, we’d better get going then,” I said, smiling brightly. I exhaled deeply, doing my best to ignore the sticky feel of desire between my thighs.

Jake took a step toward me and lifted my chin. “Don’t think for a second that this is finished.”

I shook my head. “No?”

He took my hand and pressed it against his stiffening groin. “What do you think?”

He was hard beneath my palm. “I think dinner had better be quick.”

The Redwings lived across the pond and just beyond the thicket of fir trees from Jake’s cabin. There was a short cut across the pond but because it would be dark when we left, Jake insisted we take his truck. It was the first time we had ventured away from the cabin since the snowstorm and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. I needed to stretch my legs.

The Redwings home was ten times the size of Jake’s cabin. It was a massive two-story, A-frame with logged walls, exposed timber beams and magnificent riverstone columns. It was welcoming and comfortable, and filled with warm light. A massive timber table where the family ate their meals was the heart of the home.

When Jake and I arrived, eight vivacious Redwing children sat around the table chatting excitably, while their parents prepared dinner in the open-plan kitchen. As soon as we stepped into the warm home, I was seduced by the delicious aromas of rich spaghetti sauce and garlic bread.

“Just so you know, Alice’s spaghetti isn’t as good as mine,” Jake assured me as he closed the door behind us.

“Ah, that’s what he says now but we’ll see,” said a beautiful, native Canadian woman walking past us with a big bowl of spaghetti noodles.  She paused so Jake could kiss her on the cheek and then placed the big bowl of noodles in the center of the table. Turning back to us, she fixed me with a big, beautiful grin.

“You must be Mackenzie.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I’m Alice.”

Alice was stunning. Smooth, flawless skin and eyes the color of molasses. A curtain of glossy black hair hung to her waist and she had this incredible smell about her that made me think of running mountain streams and fields of blooming wild bergamot.

“Please, make yourself at home. Dinner is ready.” She smiled again, warmly, and then returned to the kitchen for a large bowl of meat sauce.

We sat at the table with the Redwing children. Their ages ranged from three to seventeen, including the twins who were ten. The oldest was Charlie, a very handsome young man who had his father’s size but his mother’s beauty.

Straight away, Jake was the center of their universe. They threw their excited chatter at him, teased him about his absent beard, and in true Jake form he was charming and comfortable, easily engaging with them, easily laughing with them. He was loved by so many and for good reason.

At one stage he looked up and caught me staring, and the laughter on his face faded. His eyes twinkled across at me and he gave me a gentle smile, which I matched with my own. Warmth spread through my chest as my heart bloomed with affection.

I couldn’t wait to get back to the cabin and explore what that was.

Alice leaned over to me. “I can see what you two are up to,” she whispered conspiratorially, and then winked at me.

“What do you mean?” I whispered back.

She nodded toward Jake who was deep in conversation with Billy and Charlie.

“That boy is crazy about you,” Alice said with a knowing glint in her eyes. “And if I’m right, he can’t wait to get you back to that cabin tonight.”

I looked at her with feigned surprise. “Oh, no. We’re not . . . I mean, we aren’t…”

But Alice just waved me off. “Oh, please. I’ve known Jake for a lifetime. And I’ve never seen him ever look at another woman the way he looks at you.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, as I chewed my homemade garlic bread, but it felt nice and warm, and precious. More precious than anything.

Dinner was raucous and fun, and rowdy. Noodles were spooned and slurped, and homemade garlic bread was pulled apart and dunked in rich spaghetti sauce. Laughter rippled across the table and conversation was as lush and delicious as the meat sauce. Billy and Alice were warm and welcoming, and their family drew us in and embraced us as if we were one of them.

And then Alice really upped the stakes when she brought out her famed maple syrup pie. One mouthful and I was in love.

“So what do you think?” Jake asked me.

“This is the most amazing thing I have ever had in my mouth!”

He cocked an eyebrow at me and leaned closer so only I could hear. “For now.”

Heat coursed through me and I had to look away before I cleared the table with my arm and took him right there on the Redwing’s table. I shuffled in my seat and sat on my hands. Tiny pulses throbbed between my thighs. I needed him.

After the dinner dishes were cleared, the kids gathered around the fire and the massive sixty-inch TV screen in the lounge room after a DVD was put in. Jake and I drank coffee at the table while Alice, Billy, and Charlie washed up. We had offered to help but Alice said guests to her home were never going to do dishes.

Jake and I watched the TV screen from where we sat. Tonight’s movie choice was eight-year-old Emma’s, so we were watching Sweet Home Alabama. When she had announced her choice, there had been groans all round because according to Charlie, she was obsessed with it.

Just as Reese Witherspoon’s character punched Candice Bergen’s character in the nose, I looked over and saw Jake looking at me.

“What?” I asked, taken back by how deep in thought he looked.  

His eyes twinkled in the soft glow of the Redwings’ logged-home. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “Set up the Galveston Fury deal.”

His words took me by surprise and I mentally took a step back.

“Are you sure?”

Jake had a way of looking at you that made you feel like you were the only thing in the entire world. His focus was completely on you.

A smile tugged at his lips. “No. But I have a feeling you’re not going to let up until I agree.”

“Jake, I—”

“I’m kidding.” He grinned. “I want you to set it up.”

I thought for a moment, suddenly feeling protective of him.

“I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready to do.” And I didn’t. I had come to Moose Lake with the sole intention of getting Jake back on the ice and into the pros. But that was before I knew him. Things were different now. His fears were real. His pain was real. He was real. The business side of things, the plan to get him back in the pros, the bet—they all seemed so unimportant to me now.

My concerns were with Jake the person, not Jake the hockey player.

“You’re right,” he said. “It will be good for me to get back to hockey.” When I didn’t look convinced, he leaned forward and put his hands on my knees. “I need this. If I want to get my life back then I need to do this.”

The fact he wanted to re-join the world and move on filled me with relief and optimism, and happiness.

My hand slid over his. “If you’re sure then I will make it happen.”

He grinned again. “Baby, I don’t doubt that for a second.”

We just stared at each other and I saw something in his eyes that I’d never seen there before.

Hope.

*   *   *

Chapter Twenty-One

Mackenzie

We drove back to the cabin in Jake’s big truck. Like everything with Jake, his truck was huge. And watching him expertly maneuver the impressive vehicle with such skill was kind of a turn on.

Sitting beside him, my stomach was a powder keg of anticipation for what was about to happen. All day the memory of his touch had lingered on my skin, filling my pores with a raw need, so much that sometimes I felt I needed to sit on my hands to keep them from grabbing him and getting him naked.

He parked the truck in the small, snow-laden garage and when we stepped out into the cold night he took my hand and held it tightly in his as he led me toward the cabin. At the touch of his hand on mine my nerves began to spin and cartwheeled like a firecracker.

I followed him up the small porch steps but he paused at the top and pulled me to him, and then under a magical starlit sky and the magnetic swirling lights of Aurora Borealis, Jake bent his head and kissed me.

The moment his lips touched mine my body took over and my mind was lost in a sea of pleasure and sensation. His lips were soft but commanding and moved in perfect synchronicity with mine. A low, anguished moan fell between us as he reached up and cupped my face instantly making my body want more, and without thinking I entwined my legs with his in an attempt to be closer.

Something crazy was happening inside me. Something insistent and urgent, and way more powerful than my common sense.  It said to hell with the rules. Not tonight. Not beneath the magic of the aurora.

My hands slid between us and found the growing swell in the front of his jeans. Jake groaned as I touched him, and feeling the sheer size of him against my palm, my pelvic muscles tightened and throbbed, desperate to feel what was in my hand.

“We need to get inside,” I moaned into his mouth.

But he pulled away to look at me and the light of the Aurora Borealis cast a strange light across our faces. Curtains of almost phosphorous greens, reds and blues glowed in the sky above us like neon swirls of magical light.

“Mackenzie . . .” he whispered my name and his voice had such a sense of desperation to it. “Tell me this is real.”

Standing there on the little, snow-laden porch with the Northern Lights swirling in the sky above us I felt swept up in the magic.

I nodded. “This is real.” And boy, I couldn’t explain it. But in that moment what was happening between us was the most real, most incredible feeling in the world and everything before, and everything after, was of no consequence to me.

Jake’s eyes gleamed in the strange light. And then he smiled and the white glow of his teeth and the dimples on either side of his glorious smile made me fall into a deep well of love for him.

Oh, hell.

I kissed him then, deep and hard, and he walked me backwards until my shoulder blades touched the rough timber of the cabin. My eyes opened. Slowly. And as his tongue filled my mouth, and his hands slid up from my hips and his moan rumbled between us, I took in the glorious sky behind him where the stars glittered amongst the glow of the aurora. Frosty air swirled around us like puffs of cold smoke and I closed my eyes, turning away from the beauty of Mother Nature to succumb to the magic of his kiss.

“Take me inside,” I breathed. I couldn’t stand one more moment without him inside me.

But Jake paused, his thumb running over my chin. “Z . . .” His breath propelled cold puffs of air against the night. “I want this to be something special.”

The need in his voice startled me. But his eyes were like magnets and I couldn’t look away.

Slowly, I nodded. “It already is.”

*   *   *

Jake

After the kiss on the porch I scooped Mackenzie up in my arms and carried her inside. Tonight the aurora was bright and we didn’t need any lights inside the cabin to see. When I set her down she took a step away from me and undid the buttons to her coat, letting it slip to the floor. Without a word she lifted her shirt over her head and then pushed off her jeans, kicking them away and standing before me in nothing but her bra and panties. All I could do was stand there and watch, rooted to the spot like a thousand-year-old oak, because, in the magical light she was simply breathtaking.

Her name was a whisper on my lips as my wildly thumping heart pulsed loudly in my ears. There was so much to say to her. So much I wanted her to know. But in that moment all I could do was take in the potent beauty of her.

She crossed the distance between us to place a finger across my lips. She had to stand on tippy-toes to kiss me, and her lips brushed gently across mine. Her touch was gentle but it conjured a tsunami of pleasure throughout every cell of my body.

“Touch me,” she whispered against my lips.

I looked deep into her eyes as the tips of my fingers found the smooth plane of her collarbone and trailed across her warm skin. I swallowed deep as they slid slowly down the length of her arm and tangled with her fingers. I pushed back the deep throb of need pulsing through my veins as they worked their way back up again and across her chest, brushing over the hardened peak of her nipple. She sucked in a deep breath and flinched, and I had to fight off every male urge in me as her tongue flicked across her lower lip and she shivered.

“I like it when you touch me,” she said softly.

My fingers slid lower, down to her waist and across her flat belly, brushing the tip of her thong as they found the top of her thigh. When they found the soft dampness of her panties, she bit down on her lip this time and I wondered just how much more I could take.  

Lace brushed my fingers as I slid between her thong and her body, and dear God, I was about to explode with need when they found her slick skin. She shivered and her lips parted with a moan as I gently pushed into her. My cock was hard and it was all I could do to stay standing as she tightened around me, her slick muscles welcoming me deeper into her. 

Her head fell back. “I need you in me,” she breathed.

I didn’t need asking twice. My mouth sought out hers as I pulled her into my arms. And as I lifted her up, she wound her legs tight around my waist, moaning as our kiss deepened and ignited into so much more. I groaned at the touch of her against the hardness in my jeans, where my cock strained and begged for me to hurry this up. I walked us across the room to the bed and gently laid her down amongst the pillows and sheets where she stretched out before me, all creamy and smooth, and my heart opened just a little bit more.

Kicking off my jeans I joined her on the bed. She twisted onto her side and her fingers brushed over my chest and down my stomach, sweeping across my pelvis to the top of my thighs. I flinched and shivered as her fingers made their way across my groin to finally curl around the hardness of my erection. Pleasure flared across my body as she slowly and skilfully began to stroke me.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her fingers tightening and her palm sliding along the length of me. “I want to feel all of you inside of me.”

We had discussed protection on the drive to the Redwings. I had been tested a month following Tyler’s death, and I hadn’t been with a woman since. Mackenzie had been tested more recently because of some insurance criteria at the agency. She was also on the pill to help with cramps, she said, so we were free to explore one another with freedom.

Her hand continued to pump slowly up and down. “I want to taste you.”

I didn’t have a chance to reply before her lips sank down onto the head of my cock and sucked me deep into her gloriously wet mouth. The sudden sensation rocked me, making me jolt and jerk, and I pressed my head back into the pillow, tangling my fingers in her hair as she licked and sucked me. Jesus Christ.

Her tongue teased and tormented me while her mouth slowly and torturously milked me.

I had to stop her when it became too much, when my balls tightened and I felt the tight coil of pleasure begin to heighten. I was going to come in her mouth and while I wanted that, fuck, how I wanted that, tonight I wanted to spend time pleasuring her. I wanted to feel her warmth tighten and pulse around me when I made her come.

“Baby, you’re going to make me come doing that,” I moaned out, my voice thick and hoarse.

When she pulled back to look up at me, I flipped her onto her back and nestled between her creamy thighs. Every inch of me was desperate to be inside her. But I was going to make this last. I was going to show her what she did to me. How she made me feel.

I gazed down at her, filled with an emotion that was as foreign to me as all of this was. I grazed my thumb across her cheek.

“You make me feel things I have never known,” I said, honestly, not knowing where the words came from but knowing that they needed to be said. “I don’t know what to do with them.” And I didn’t. I felt completely at the mercy of the feelings that were so alien to me.

Beautiful brown eyes stared straight into mine. “We’ll work that out together.”

I shifted slightly and she bit her lower lip when she felt the pressure of my cock against the sensitive softness of her pussy.

When I sank into her, she gasped and dug her fingers into my shoulders. And, God, it felt amazing being inside her. It was like plunging head first into a deep well of pleasure and being sucked deeper into an unfathomable bliss. It tore through me. Making me harder, making me pulse and throb inside of her. But there was something else. Something I was striving to reach with every deep stroke into her warm and welcoming body. I didn’t know what it was. Couldn’t put a finger on it. But whatever it was, it was like nothing I had ever known. Everything was heightened. Every touch. Every emotion. Every vibrant sensation coursing through my body felt new and vivid, and so goddamn incredible.

Mackenzie whimpered as her climax swelled in her. She was close, so I slowed my pace and pushed deeper into her, inch by inch, pressing hard against that swollen bud of nerves that was tight and bound with unreleased ecstasy. With one hard grind against her, her eyes opened wide with surprise and her muscles squeezed and clenched tight around my cock. Oh, God . . . Beneath me her body detonated with a powerful climax and my name fell from her lips in a breathless, desperate cry as her orgasm consumed her.  

I gave into my own climax then, shuddering into her with a long, unbridled moan. My head dropped as if it was too heavy with euphoria. Nothing felt as good as this. Nothing in the entire universe could compare to how it felt making love to Mackenzie and then coming inside of her. And as my orgasm cartwheeled across my brain, that’s when it hit me. I didn’t just need this woman. I was falling in love with her.

*   *   *

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mackenzie

I woke up with a sudden need to run from the cabin.

Entangled in Jake’s arms I was struck with a sudden paralyzing surge of panic that tore up my spine and prickled at the base of my skull. I lay rigid and still, crippled by the storm of anxiety taking place inside of me.

But then my phone started to buzz with all the messages from the past three days and my arm shot out to retrieve it from the small bedside table beside me. Thirty-seven messages. Most of them about Daisy and her latest drama, which involved her being thrown off a flight to Vegas for bad behavior. Now the CEO of the fashion label that paid her a truckload of money to lend her pure, innocent face to their latest perfume release, wanted to talk. It was bad news when they wanted to talk.

The last message I received was from Garrick and it had been sent the night before. It was a picture of him and my father with Purgatory, out to dinner and smiling, and it was like a giant vat of ice-cold water being thrown over me.

What was I doing? I needed to get out of there.

With my anxiety attack in full flight, I rolled out of bed, desperately trying not to wake Jake as I untangled myself from his embrace and searched for my clothes scattered on the floor. It took me a few minutes but I eventually managed to get into my jeans and shirt.

I had to go. I had to get as far away from here as possible. For Jake.

And because my cousin was stealing Purgatory right out from under my nose because I had let myself be so distracted by the glorious man lying amongst the sheets in front of me.

I stopped for a moment to draw in a deep breath and to calm my wild nerves. I had broken every rule I had about getting involved with clients and I didn’t want Jake to be the one who paid for it. He deserved better. He deserved to have his career back. Not get caught up with some mental case like me.

I grabbed my hairband from the little table by the fireplace and began to pull my hair back. When Jake moved and moaned in his sleep I jerked to a pause and waited for him to resume his deep slumber.

I didn’t want him to wake up. I sucked at goodbyes and I had a feeling that this one was going to hurt.

As I hunted for my boots I pushed back the memory of the kiss on the porch and what we had said afterwards. That this was something. That this was real. Because it wasn’t. Even though it was delicious and he had given me multiple orgasms, and it was the best sex I had ever experienced, Jake was my client—not my boyfriend. Christ, where the fuck were my boots? I whirled around looking for them. I had to get out of here. I had to get out of here now.

Finding my boots by the front door I pulled them on, awkwardly balancing on one leg as I slid up the zips.

“Are you seriously trying to sneak away?”

Jake’s voice startled me and I swung around.

Lying there tangled in the sheets and blankets, naked and wearing only a delicious, dimpled grin on his face, he looked too sexy for words. When he sat up, his tight stomach rippled with muscle and the mere sight of him sent desire spiraling throughout every nerve and fiber of my being.

Jesus Christ, he was a gorgeous human being.

“I don’t think you’ve thought your escape route out thoroughly,” he said with a grin. “You know, considering we’re fifteen miles out of town and your car is probably under a layer of snow.”

The humor left his face when I looked him in the eye and he saw the panic there. He immediately sat up straighter.

“Z—”

“I have go,” I said, and unable to bear the look on his face looked away and began to hunt for my gloves.

“Where are we going?” he asked it as if nothing was wrong, but at the same time his voice tight and braced for the bad stuff he knew was coming.

I turned back to face him. My anxiety attack began to wane but that only opened the doors for a flood of guilt to wash through me. “Jake—”

He cut me off. “What happened, Mackenzie?”

“I have to get back to the real world,” I said meekly. It was a pathetic reply. Especially since the two people in this cabin both knew I was running away.

“Don’t do this, Z.”

He said my nickname with such affection I had no choice but to look at him. He deserved to know why I was leaving but I didn’t know how to tell him.

I looked away to collect my thoughts but then cast my eyes back to him. “Last night . . . the night before . . . it shouldn’t have happened.”

Hurt rippled across his face and he grit his teeth. “Why?”

I stopped and frowned. “We both know this has only complicated things.”

He swallowed and I watched the rise of his broad chest as he drew in a deep breath. His eyes narrowed. “So, that’s it. We’re done?”

My heart ached at the thought. But what choice did I have?

I sat down on the bed—a safe distance from him.

He deserved to know that I wasn’t running because we had made love.

But how did I tell him I was running because I had fallen in love with him?

He didn’t need that complication right now.

I thought of Purgatory and momentarily closed my eyes. I needed to keep my eye on the goal and not get distracted by—by whatever this was.

Which was nothing.

I couldn’t love Jake. Because his future was riding on it.

I stood up and only half-turned to him, not making eye contact as I said, “I’m sorry, Jake. But I have to go.”

*   *   *

Jake

The slapping sting of her rejection made me suddenly acquiescent.

Right. So, I was her fling and now she was going to walk away like it was no big deal?

Pain was a tornado through my stomach. This was a big deal. To me.  It was a big fucking deal.

Whether she wanted to believe it or not, I had given her a piece of me last night and at the same time I had taken a piece of her.

This was not some casual fling.

But the look on Mackenzie’s face told me otherwise.

No. It screamed otherwise. It was right up in my face, telling me how we weren’t on the same page. Hell, gauging by her reaction we weren’t even in the same book.

She regretted what we had done and damn if that wasn’t like a knife going straight into my chest.

I had to laugh at the irony. She was the first girl I’d wanted in a long time—possibly forever—and she couldn’t wait to get away from me.

Hurt and sadness collided inside of me and it was impossible to keep coldness out of my tone. “Well, you’d better go then.”

She shifted awkwardly on her feet and shoved her hands in her back pockets. Doing this made her shirt strain against the swell of her breasts and for a fleeting moment my mind rolled back to last night, when I had slid my tongue across the ample rise of flesh and closed my lips over a perky, pink nipple.

I exhaled deeply to vanquish the memory. Now was not the time. I was being dumped. I was being walked away from and it was crushing me.

But tell that to my dick.

“Um . . . ah . . . so, I guess I’ll call you once I’ve set up a meeting?” she said.

My jaw tensed and my eyes never left her face. “I guess so.”

She turned her head to look out the window and when she frowned, I followed her gaze. Outside, her rental was lost under several layers of snow.

“I’ll take care of it,” I said, ignoring the ache in my stomach as I grabbed the shovel hanging from a nail on the wall by the door.

Mackenzie was walking out on me and I hated it, but I wasn’t going to let her kill herself doing it. I would make sure her rental car was good to drive her away from me safely.

Outside the chill of the early morning air stung my face. But it was nothing compared to the bitter cold loneliness I felt creeping back into my heart. Four days ago I had craved the isolation of the cabin. But now that I knew what it felt like with Mackenzie, the idea of the isolation terrified me.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said as I started shifting snow.

“Just because you’re running away from me doesn’t mean I don’t want you to do it safely,” I said, shoveling snow from her car.

“I’m not running away from you.”

I stopped shoveling to look at her. “Then what do you call this?”

“I was always leaving. I was supposed to go yesterday. Remember?”

“That was before . . .” I stopped. Before what? Before we fucked? Made love? Fell in love?

“Just because we had sex doesn’t mean anything has changed.”

I straightened. “Don’t kid yourself, Z. We made love. And it changed everything.”

Emotion shimmered across her face and she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“I have to go,” she whispered, more to herself than me. As if she was reminding herself even though it was the last thing she really wanted to do. And for a moment I thought she might say to hell with it and stay. But when she opened her eyes, they settled on me with a determined focus.

“Goodbye, Jake.” She opened the car door. “I’ll call you. Okay?”

No, this was not okay.

 I shook my head. “Don’t go, Z.”

She swallowed hard but didn’t say anything more. She simply climbed in her car and drove away.

* *   *

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mackenzie

Don Sandusky was the newest coach of the Galveston Fury. He had been hired by team owner, Johnny Pepper, to gather up what little respect the team name had left and shepherd them out from the bowels of the leader board. For the last five years he had been languishing in retirement after a remarkable career as a pro hockey player in the early 1980s, followed by a successful career in coaching where he led three teams to the Stanley Cup playoffs. He had retired to Florida but had been enticed away from the Sunshine State with a big fat retainer.

Don Sandusky was a man who knew hockey.

He was also a man of routine. He liked routine. He lived by routine. He was routine.

Which made my job a little easier.

Every Saturday you could find him at the Fisherman’s Friend Bar & Grill on Seawall Boulevard, downing twenty-year-old scotch and watching ESPN while chatting with Old Murray, the bartender.

And this was exactly where I found him.

Sliding onto the stool next to him, I ordered a brandy from Old Murray and took in the game on the TV set above the bar.

I ordered another brandy for me and a Glenfiddich for Don.

“And what do I owe this pleasure?” Don asked me.

No words passed between us as Old Murray poured our drinks, and then pushed them across the bar.

“Are you a reporter?” Don asked.

“No.” I handed him his scotch and we clinked glasses. “Sports management.”

“Ah,” he nodded and threw back a mouthful of the scotch. “Worse.”

He stood up to leave, throwing a few bills down on the bar.

I had to think quick before he walked out. “I think I can help the Fury win a spot in the Stanley Cup playoffs.”

That stopped him. Well, it piqued his interested, at least. He turned skeptic eyes toward me.

“Oh, yeah? You got a magic wand, lil’ lady?”

I shook my head. “No. I’ve got something better.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Jake Pennington.”

He scoffed. But I could tell I had his attention because he leaned against the bar.

“That drunk? His time is done. He’s got no form left. Last I heard he was lost in the bottom of a bottle.”

I smiled. “He’s in the best shape of his life.”

Another scoff. But Don still didn’t leave. “Sure he is.” I pulled my cell from my bag, found the recorded footage of Jake’s pond game and placed it on the bar next to the crusty old coach.

He couldn’t help himself. Two seconds of watching it and my phone was in his hot little hands and his eyes glued to the screen.

The clip was three minutes and forty-two seconds long.

I had him within the first minute.

He eased himself down on the stool next to me, intrigued with what he was watching.

When the clip finished he handed me the phone back. “Okay, you have my attention.”

I offered him a knowing smile. “I thought I might.”

“I’ll meet with him.”

I tilted my head. If he thought I was going to be a pushover, then he was wrong. “No. He doesn’t come down here without an offer.”

Don pushed up on the bar to stand. He was going to leave.

“You’re three down, Don. Your star defense is buried so deep in a cocaine and hooker scandal he’s going to need a map to get back. You have a winger with a serious drinking problem, not to mention poor fashion sense. And your captain is facing time for sexual misconduct with an underage girl who is now pregnant with his baby. Two of your major sponsors are already gone and Johnny Pepper is understandably pissed. Every time your team fucks up, it costs him money. Not to mention pushes him three steps back from the Stanley Cup. You’re at the bottom of the leader board, Don, and everyone knows it. No one sees you as a threat. You’re just there to make up numbers. Why, the New York City Ice Cats even told Time they were going to mop the floor with you guys just to have something to do.” I watched as pride and pain conflicted in his wise old eyes. “Come on, Coach, what better way to stick it to everyone than by having Jake Pennington step out onto that ice as a Fury. Isn’t it time you mop the floor with these smart-ass, show pony teams that think they are so much better than you? Now I know you have untapped funds now that your star is toast and you have two wingers facing jail time. And I know for a fact that if you wave Pennington in front of Johnny Pepper he’ll get a boner for the idea.” I threw back another mouthful of brandy, letting my argument marinade inside the coach. “Jake comes down here, leads your team through the last nine weeks of the season and you pay him an even mil. He gets you to the Cup playoffs and it’s one and three quarters.”

I had done the math. There was still time for the Fury to make it to the Cup playoffs as a wild card. If they had Jake.

Don’s eyes glittered across at me. Suddenly he burst out laughing like I was a freaking stand-up comic. “You’re kidding me, right?”

I stayed stoic. I had never made a hockey deal in my life and I was probably way out of my league. But I wouldn’t let Coach think that for a minute. I knew Jake was worth it.

My eye contact didn’t waiver. I even folded my arms and gave him a confident, close-lipped smile.

“I may have a great sense of humor, Coach. But I never joke about business.”

His smile faded as he thought for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed and he asked, “What makes you think Pennington can get our team to the playoffs?”

I selected another clip on my phone. It was the one of Jake fooling around on the ice. Actually, he’d been showing off more than anything—tearing across the frozen pond and then quicker than a blink of an eye he was skating backwards. The clip was only thirty-six seconds long, but it was half a minute of proof that Jake still knew what he was doing on the ice. The speed and skill was still there. He had only needed to get his passion back.

And I had a feeling it was on its way.

“I know he can. You’ve just got to ask yourself if you’re ready to get there.” I tapped the bar with a perfectly manicured fingernail. French polish. They were my only attempt at being girlie. “What do you say, Coach. We got a deal?”

“You know, my daddy always said a handshake was as good as a signature on a piece of paper,” Coach said in his thick Texan drawl. 

“My daddy said a deal wasn’t a deal until you signed on the dotted line.”

Coach laughed and then nodded. “I like you.”

“I’ll like you a whole lot better when I drop by your office tomorrow and you have a contract waiting for me.” I stood up and threw back the last of my brandy. “Let’s say around two o’clock? Does that work for you?”

He thought for a moment and then nodded in defeat. “One big one for the season and the Cup playoffs.”

“One and a half.”

“One one,” he countered.

“One million two hundred and fifty,” I countered back.

“You have a deal.”

We shook hands. “See you tomorrow.”

As I began to walk away he said, “Just so you know, I would’ve given you one five.”

I turned and winked at him. “And I would’ve agreed to an even one million.”

As I turned and walked out, I couldn’t help but grin. People thought the big deals were made in skyscrapers inside glass and chrome offices by executives in Armani suits using gold pens to sign multimillion-dollar contracts. So far my two biggest meetings in this business happened in a bar. Sports deals in a bar—the irony wasn’t lost on me. My way was a lot more fun.

*   *   *

Johnny Pepper was an eccentric oil tycoon worth billions. A cigar chain smoker with only a whisper of hair left on his head, he was as tall as an ewok and when he spoke he sounded as if he had drank bleach and broken glass for breakfast.

He was also a control freak.

So it was no surprise to find him waiting for me in Coach’s office the next day when I stopped by to work out Jake’s contract.

In fact, it was exactly what I had anticipated.

And needed.

Because Johnny Pepper needed to be more than aware of Jake Pennington and I needed to get him excited about Jake playing for the Galveston Fury. The quicker he realized how important Jake was to the Fury, the better.

That goal took me all of two minutes. As soon as he saw my footage of Jake on the ice he picked up his phone. “Dusty, get the jet ready. We’re going to New York.”

*   *   *

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jake

Leaving the cabin and the best four days of my life behind me, I returned home to find a party in full swing at my apartment in New York. An old high school buddy was staying in my apartment for a couple of days while his house got fumigated, and in an attempt to cheer me up and pull me out of my I killed my best friend funk, he’d decided to throw me a party when he heard I was coming back.

Which was the last thing I wanted.

As I walked through the front door Avenged Sevenfold blasted from speakers throughout the apartment. Every light in the joint was on and there were people everywhere. A couple was making out on the couch in the family room and another up against the wall in the hallway. In the kitchen two girls had a guy bailed up against the counter and were telling him off. They pointed their fingers at his chest and their heavily made up eyes were wide as they yelled at him.

I found Josh on the patio by the barbeque, with a girl under each arm.

“Hey, buddy!” He ditched the girls and strode across the impressive outdoor living area to give me a big hug. Because the central heating was turned up, half the people there were barely dressed. It was like a pool party without the pool. In winter. Josh was dressed in a bright pink and yellow Hawaiian shirt and boardshorts. On top of his unruly hair was a “Gone Fishing” slouch hat.

He greeted me with a hug and then pointed to my shaved face.

“Dude, you’re not rocking the fuzz,” he said, and then standing back shook his head. “Jesus Christ, you really are a handsome sonofabitch.”

I smiled, but it was half-hearted. Because I was half-hearted. Because the girl I was falling in love with had run away from me.

“Good to be home?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, but I think I might hit the sack.”

Josh looked alarmed. “Dude, look at what’s going on around you. It’s a party, man. Time to let your hair down and have a bit of fun!”

I looked around the apartment at all the people. I didn’t want to party. I wanted to find Mackenzie and pull her to me, to kiss and touch her, to spend the rest of my life making love to her.

I watched as two guys I didn’t even know fooled around with a blow-up sex doll on the sofa. One drew a giant penis beside her mouth while the other one lost his shit laughing.

I shook my head. I should’ve stayed at the cabin. But I couldn’t bear the emptiness and the solitude with Mackenzie gone.

My heart ached.

I missed her.

And it was ridiculous.

I told myself I was crazy. That after four days together, my feelings toward her were irrational. Hell, they were downright crazy talk. But no matter how much psychoanalysis I put myself through, my feelings remained the same—I was really into her.

A girl joined us. Her name was Leila and she was beautiful. And clearly interested. We had met a couple of times through Josh but we’d never gone there and it was obviously something she wanted to change. Josh departed, clearly leaving us alone because of some pre-arranged request by her.

She curled her bare arms around me. “Welcome home, Jake.”

I looked down at her. “Thanks.”

She licked her lips and ran a finger up and down my arm, fluttering her eyelashes up at me as she gave me some serious come-fuck-me-eyes.

Maybe that was the answer. Get over my feelings for Mackenzie by getting under someone else.

And damn, this girl was gorgeous.

There was only one problem: the thought made me sick to my stomach. Why? Because I didn’t want anyone else.

Yeah, but the girl you want doesn’t want you.

A wave of fatigue washed over me.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I said, untangling myself from Leila’s arms.

“Maybe I can come and help.” She threw me an inviting look—one that left no question as to what she wanted from me.  And, damn, did I mention she was gorgeous? Long lashes fluttered again. “You know, I could help you with those places you can’t reach.”

The old Jake would’ve been in there like dynamite.

Then I thought of Mackenzie and how she’d walked away and my gut ached with loneliness. A loneliness I could no longer bear.

Maybe the old Jake was right.

Maybe the love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude was the safest of all.

Because the new Jake was miserable.

*   *   *

Mackenzie

I clutched my cell in my hand as I spoke quietly and quickly into it. “I have no time but I need a quick debrief.”

On the other end, Meg chuckled. “Where are you?”

“On a plane to New York.”

“I thought you were in Canada? With the hot hockey player.”

I grimaced as I thought about Jake and how I left him back at the cabin, and turned closer toward the little window of the jet. “I was but then I flew to Texas.”

“And now you’re on a plane back home?”

“Well, it’s a Gulfstream jet, actually. Johnny Pepper is flying me to New York for a meeting with Jake.”

“Johnny Pepper?”

“Oil billionaire. He owns the Galveston Fury.”

“Oil billionaire. Private jet. Hot hockey player—I want your life.”

“No, you don’t. Because I’m a horrible person.”

“Uh-oh. What happened?”

When I paused, Meg put two and two together.

“You slept with him!” she exclaimed, excited. And I swear I could hear clapping.

I sighed. “I did something terrible.”

The clapping stopped. “Oh, honey, what happened?”

“We were snowed in. There was a fire, and wine . . . not to mention a near-death experience . . . and Jake is such an incredible person—”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Me. I’m the problem. We made love all night and then . . .”

“And then?”

Remembering the look on Jake’s face as I drove away I squeezed my eyes shut. He would never forgive me. “I just left.”

Saying it out loud was like just a big reiteration of what a cold-hearted bitch I was! My chest tightened with regret.

Again, I sighed. “What’s wrong with me, Meg?”

“You panicked.”

“I ran away,” I corrected her and another wave of guilt washed over me. “Because I’m a coward.”

“Hey, that’s my friend you’re talking about. You go easy on her.”

We were quiet for a moment as I fought with the ache in my chest. I missed Jake. I was falling in love with him and it hurt to be so far away from him.

What had I done?

“What are you going to do?” Meg finally asked.

I fought with my feelings in some attempt to maintain some kind of professionalism. It didn’t matter how I felt about Jake. It didn’t matter that I longed to be back in that little cabin with him. It didn’t matter that I ached to be in his arms again. To inhale his warmth and protectiveness, and the intoxicating scent of him. Because I had a job to do. And I owed it to him.

I had made a commitment. And a bet. To get him back on the ice. Not just to him. But also to Garrick and my father. This was, after all, business.

I straightened in my chair. We should never have complicated things.

I should never have complicated things.

I had to get my head back in the game. It wouldn’t be fair to Jake if I didn’t.

“I’m going to do what I set out to do,” I said.

“Which is what?”

I sighed because my heart wasn’t in it anymore. “I guess I’m going to make him a star.”

*   *   *

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mackenzie

We arrived in New York early. I had called Jake numerous times throughout the previous evening and during the flight, but he wasn’t answering. He was hurt. Or pissed at me. I got it. But we had to put our personal situation behind us if we wanted to get him back in the pros. I needed him to be ready to dazzle the eccentric billionaire who was his ticket back into the league.

While Johnny and his entourage took care of business on the other side of town, I took a cab to Jake’s loft. When I knocked no one answered but when I tried the door it was unlocked, so I walked in.

“What the hell?” I said when I saw the state of his apartment. It was like a keg party had exploded in the lounge room.

I called out Jake’s name but my voice was an unanswered echo.

I cast an eye around me, stunned by the empty bottles of champagne, wine and liquor, and the upturned chip bowls and crushed beer cups, and felt a growing unease unfurl in my stomach. Cheetos crunched beneath my feet as I walked through the kitchen toward the bedroom.

“Jesus Christ!” I barked when I almost went butt-over-head thanks to an ill-placed sex toy on the floor. I grabbed onto the doorframe to the bedroom to regain my balance. Farther down the hall, a naked sex doll lay on her back, her legs out wide and her fake mouth frozen in a permanent O. Someone had drawn a giant penis on the side of her face in permanent marker.

Seriously, what the hell had gone on here last night?

I shook my head, trying to dislodge my confusion as I turned the doorknob and opened Jake’s bedroom door.

I don’t know what I expected to find when I opened that door. But seeing Jake in bed with a naked woman wasn’t it. Not even close. And I likened it to being slammed in the stomach with the business end of a hockey stick.

Twice.

He was lying on his back, the sheet pulled down to his waist and revealing a perfect six-pack that rose and fell with every breath he took. The beautiful brunette next to him had a body to die for with killer legs and even more killer boobs—this I could tell because as she lay there unconscious everything was on display. And when I say everything, I mean everything. Girlfriend favored a wax of the Brazilian kind.

I tried not to notice just how hot and delicious she was, but it was kind of hard not to notice when everything was up in my face.

They must’ve really exhausted themselves the night before because neither of them moved when I yanked open the blinds. That thought alone was enough to make my stomach clench with raging jealousy.

Picking up a discarded pillow from the floor, I aimed it at Jake’s head.

“What the fuck—” He sat up abruptly, looking dazed, but then seeing me standing at the foot of his bed, the surprise on his face settled into a dark irritation.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his jawline tense.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you since yesterday afternoon and all morning,” I said accusingly. My eyes shifted to the brunette next to him. “But clearly you’ve been busy.”

He followed my gaze and almost jumped back in surprise when he saw the woman lying very naked in the bed next to him. For a moment I thought he didn’t expect to see her there, but then realized I was the one he didn’t expect to see in his bedroom. Obviously he knew she was there. He’d fucked her there.

Again my stomach clenched. This time more painful than the first.

The woman stirred and lifted her head. Seeing me in the room didn’t appear to concern her because she didn’t even bother to try and cover herself.

Why wouldn’t she cover herself? Girl, put it away.

But she didn’t. Instead she turned to Jake. “Is she your wife?”

Jake shook his head and without removing his eyes from me he replied, “Worse. She’s my agent.”

The resentment coming off him was like a furnace.

Right, asshole. Because I’m the one lying in bed with some naked girl I just stuck my dick into.

I matched his resentment because the jealousy lighting up my insides was raging out of control. But then I remembered why I was there and how I was indeed his agent and nothing more. So I buried my jealousy beneath a façade of professionalism, only too aware that it would return with a vengeance when I tried to drown it in red wine later.

“Can we talk?” I asked.

Jake seemed determined to keep hating on me. He folded his arms across his broad chest, making those biceps twice as big. “Talk away.”

My eyes shifted to his guest and then back to him. “Alone?”

The brunette didn’t need him to say anything. She climbed out of bed—doing nothing to cover her nakedness—and headed for the door. “I need to pee anyway.”

Silently I watched her leave the room, fully aware that Jake’s penetrating stare hadn’t left me. When she closed the door behind her I swallowed deeply trying to dislodge the hurt in my throat.

Alone with Jake, it was harder to keep my emotions in check.

“I suppose that was for my benefit,” I said, trying to sound professional. But it was damn near impossible to keep the hurt out of my voice. Especially under the scrutiny of Jake’s beautiful eyes. I could feel him still looking at me. Studying me. Watching me as I slowly unraveled in front of him.

Damn him.

Damn him for being such a beautiful, amazing jerk.

Even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. Technically.

I was the one who had pulled away in some insane attempt to keep things professional between us. I was the one who had stopped this from going any further, even though my heart and soul was desperate for more.

But clearly I had been right in resuming a professional and not a personal relationship with Jake. And, apparently, he was happy with the arrangement, too, because two seconds away from the cabin and he had already stuck his dick in someone else.

I scurried to regain my composure in front of him.

No matter how I played this, it was going to suck.

*   *   *

Jake

How did I tell her nothing happened between me and Leila? That when she’d hit on me at the party I hadn’t been able to do what usually came second nature to me. That all I could think about was her. Mackenzie fucking Eden. That when I closed my eyes all I could see, think and feel was her. Her eyes. Her smile. Her smell. The way the dimples on either side of her lips flickered when she spoke. Her—fuck—her everything!  She had turned me into a fucking psycho. I wanted her so bad it was killing me. But I couldn’t have her. She had made that perfectly clear and I was at a loss of what to do.

Basically, I was screwed.

And not in the way I wanted to be.

Truth was, I had taken a sleeping pill to get some sleep while the party went on outside my bedroom door.  I had no idea Leila was even in the bed next to me until I woke up to find Mackenzie in my room looking like she’d just walked in on some kind of orgy. The last I had seen of Leila before now was when she had been making out with a guy and a girl in the kitchen.

My first instinct was to defend myself. Explain what had happened. I knew it looked bad. But then some part of me wanted her to think something had happened—after all, she didn’t want it, so why would it bother her? Faced with a little competition, maybe she’d realize how she really felt about me.

Then I remembered that I was actually an adult and not a teenager and mentally told myself to grow the fuck up.

But now my girl was in front of me, angry as hell and . . . was she holding back tears?

I ripped off the covers and went to her. She was hurt and she was about to cry and I wasn’t going to let her. Not over something that never even happened.

As I reached her, her eyes went as round as saucers.

“You’re wearing clothes,” she whispered as the first tear broke on her cheek.

I looked down at the sweats I was wearing. “Yeah. I put them on before I went to bed last night.” I raised her chin so she would look at me. “Alone.”

“But that girl—”

“She must’ve come in during the night.” I looked her right in the eye. “I was just as surprised as you were to see her lying there.”

She gave me a doubtful look. I knew it sounded lame, but it was the truth and if there was one thing I hoped Mackenzie knew about me after four days trapped in a snowed-in cabin together, was that I wasn’t a liar.

I took a step back. “Want to tell me why you care either way?”

She looked up at me and bit her bottom lip. But instead of words, Mackenzie did the last thing I expected her to do . . . she gave into her tears.

Not waiting a moment longer I pulled her into my arms and held her against my chest, long enough for her tears to stop. God, it was good having her in my arms again.

Pulling back I looked down at her and carefully wiped her tears away. There was so much I wanted to tell her. How the four days trapped in the cabin with her had been the best four days of my life. How I missed everything about her. How my bed felt cold and empty without her, even though we’d only spent four nights sleeping side by side. How I couldn’t stop thinking about her and how much I wished we could go back to that cabin and lock ourselves away from the outside world. How I wanted more than anything to peel every item of clothing from her body and spend the evening exploring every lovely inch of her body with mine.

But I didn’t. Because when I opened my mouth to speak, she closed it with hers. Her mouth sealed over mine, her tongue sliding past my lips to hungrily dance with mine. I saw stars. Real stars. Because she felt and tasted so good, and because more than anything in the whole world my heart wanted this kiss. Instinctively, my hand went up to cup her jaw to hold her face to mine as our kiss deepened and roared into life.

She moaned and it got me so hard I actually flinched with need.

Breathlessly, she pulled away. Light danced on her wet lips as she asked, “You really didn’t do anything with that girl?”

Her need for reassurance surprised me. But it also lit me up from the inside because it could only mean one thing. She wanted to be with me. I was more to her than just her client.

I pulled back to look into her beautiful face and gently ran my thumb across her cheek.

“You’re the first woman I’ve been with in almost a year, Z. You think I could come back here after the best four days of my life and just fuck someone else? Give me a bit more credit, baby.”

She smiled through her tears and the sight of those dimples on either side of her glorious mouth sent me over the edge. I pulled her to me again and kissed her hard. Again, desire flared between us and I walked her backwards pressing her up against the wall as our kiss deepened.

But forever the sports agent, Mackenzie broke off our kiss.

“As much as I want this, you have to get ready,” she said breathlessly. She looked up through lashes and her blue eyes gleamed with desire. “Johnny Pepper is wait—” she gasped when my fingers slid between the denim of her jeans and the tiny lace panties she wore.

I dropped my lips to the smooth flesh of her neck and trailed kisses up to her ear. “You want me to stop?”

“I think I will die if you do,” she whispered. And then my fingers moved lower to slide through the moist, soft folds of flesh and she gasped.

“Tell me to stop,” I whispered against her ear. As my fingers slid into her she moaned and dear God, she was wet. So damn wet. My balls tightened and my cock went as hard as steel, and begged me to do something about it.

“Oh, what the hell,” she moaned and all thoughts of Johnny Pepper and sports contracts were forgotten as she fiercely kissed me. Her kiss was deep, and long, and so full of promise it was dizzying.

Within seconds, I had her out of her clothes and in my bed. I kicked off my sweatpants and I climbed over her as she lay naked and glorious amongst my sheets. God, I was so hard and so damn happy to see her, it wouldn’t take long. I buried my face in her neck and sank my lips against the smooth plane of her throat, my mind dizzy with the intoxicating scent of her skin. She wrapped her strong legs around my hips, pulling me closer so all the good parts of me were touching all the good parts of her. It was a move that almost brought me undone. My body screamed at me for release.

And then she moaned my name and that was it. That was all I needed. With one thrust I was in her, and dear God, it was the most fucking amazing feeling I’d ever known.

And because it was so damn amazing, I came undone pretty fast. But it was okay, because Mackenzie came undone even faster. Within minutes she was writhing beneath me, clutching my ass as if she could somehow get me deeper into her and begging me to fuck her harder. And then she cried out, over and over, as she came all over my cock.

It was more than I could stand. Her tight pussy. The moaning. The scratch of her nails down my back. The fact that I was so into this girl I didn’t know what to do with myself. I shot into her like lightning, and I’m not even ashamed to admit it, because, Jesus Christ, I was so in love with her I didn’t care about anything else in the goddamn world.

In that moment, all I knew was her.

In that moment I knew all I wanted to know was her.

I cried out, scrunching the sheets in my fists as I came. My body shuddering as I gave into the ecstasy of my orgasm before collapsing against the woman I now knew I had fallen in love with.  We took a moment to catch our breath and wait until our heartbeats evened.

Nestling into the crook of her neck I couldn’t help but grin.

“You are so grinning right now,” Mackenzie said.

I nodded but was rooted to the spot. “I so am,” I murmured against the warmth of her shoulder. I was standing at the precipice of happiness and euphoria when I was in her arms.

I felt her grin and I looked up. I was still inside her but neither of us was in a hurry to change that.

“So I guess that ends your whole client-agent argument,” I said, hoping that bullshit reason for our separation was behind us.

She half-nodded but looked up at me with wide, questioning eyes. “If that’s what you want, Jake.”

I pushed up on my forearms to look at her. “What I want is to be with you, Z.” I smoothed down her hair and looked down onto her beautiful face. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Her big, dark eyes gleamed up at me. “You know this is crazy, right?”

“Maybe. I don’t care.” Happiness bloomed in my chest when I realized how free we were to explore our relationship now that she was willing to. “I want you and I don’t care what it takes to make you mine.”

She grinned and then her smile faded and her face grew serious. “How do we make this work?”

Peace and contentment settled over me as I looked into those deep brown eyes. Suddenly, life was looking really good. “We’ll work it out,” I said, very aware of my pelvis against hers and the heat swirling between us.

“It’s going to take some work.”

“I don’t care what it takes,” I said, meaning it. “I’ll do whatever I need to.”

“I will be in New York—“

I kissed her. I knew she would be in New York while I was in Texas somewhere, but who the hell cared; I was determined to make it work between us. I had spent years without her—I knew what I preferred.

She stretched out beneath me and the feel of her creamy body turned my semi-hard cock, rock solid. I moved and feeling how hard I was she whimpered. With barely a movement, I pressed harder and the pressure against those magical bundle of nerves made her whimper even louder. 

I kissed her deep and our bodies began to slowly move with one another.

Her second orgasm descended on her and she let out a long, luxuriously rich moan and clenched violently around my cock. It was more than I could take and within seconds I was following suit, moaning into the warm crook of her shoulder as ecstasy overwhelmed me.

As our pleasure eddied away and our heartbeats leveled, we began to laugh. That was a first. Two orgasms in rapid succession of one another.

What this woman did to me was crazy. Addictive.

“I could get use to this,” I said, kissing her again.

It was that moment Josh decided to wander in. Dressed in old pajama bottoms and a grubby robe, he was eating cereal and didn’t seem at all worried that I was in bed with a woman, naked, with the sheet barely covering us.

“Wow. Who’s this?” he asked, scooping a spoonful of milky cereal into his mouth.

I grinned down at Mackenzie and without lifting my eyes from her beautiful face, replied, “This is my girlfriend.”

Josh almost choked on his cereal. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” I looked up and smiled, and then pretending as if I’d just remembered it, added, “Oh, and she’s also my agent.”

*   *   *

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jake

Three days.

Seventy-two hours.

Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes.

That’s how long we stayed in my apartment together. Talking. Kissing. Making love. Eating together. Showering together. Then making love again because, Christ, this woman was so damn amazing naked I couldn’t keep my hands off of her.

We watched television. Made meals. Then, when the groceries ran out, we ordered in takeout just so we didn’t have to leave the sanctuary of my apartment.

Outside it had begun to rain, but inside it was warm and cozy. Which was good, considering the amount of time we spent without clothes.

I was a slave to her and I didn’t mind one little bit.

Our lovemaking knew no bounds and just when I thought I was satiated, I’d wake up and realize my body was thirsty for more. I would realize there was no other place I would rather be than right there with her and the need to make love to her again would consume me. I didn’t want to let her go—I couldn’t let her go.

They were three magical days to rival our first four days together at Moose Lake. They also made me wonder how I’d ever existed without her.

On day four, the real world re-entered our existence, and we flew to Texas to meet with Johnny Pepper and the new coach of the Galveston Fury, Don Sandusky. I knew Don. He was a legend. And that got me excited.

But I also knew the Fury, and they didn’t get me excited.

They had a reputation as the sloppiest team in the NHL, and later, when we went to watch them practice, I could see why.

We arrived mid-training session and Coach Sandusky started with introductions.

First up was Hank, a tank of a man from Sweden. I mean, hell, I was six-foot-seven and this guy towered above me like a goddamn giant. He wasn’t a handsome man but he was one big wall of solid muscle, and apparently it didn’t matter to those girls watching from the opposite end of the rink what he looked like. They never made it past that torso of pure muscle and strength. He might’ve had an IQ of twelve but he was a genius on the ice. He was the Fury’s muscle. Big and braun. But he was slow. Too slow.

Second up was the star forward, Casanova. No, seriously, that was his name. And he was Casanova by name and by nature. I wasn’t into dudes, but geez, this guy made me look like one of the ugly stepsisters. And going by the reaction of the group of women at the far end of the rink when he stepped out onto the ice, he was a favorite among the puck bunnies.

Next up was Cowboy. A native of Texas and the quintessential farm boy who just happened to be faster on skates than on a horse. But only just, apparently. He was also a favorite of the group of girls who hung out behind the glass at the other end of the rink.

Not all the team were present. But other players who’d made themselves available included a British D-man called Jupiter, a newly-appointed right winger called Michael Angelo (seriously!), and an aptly name goalie called Loki the Destroyer. I had played against Loki during my last season with the NYC Ice Cats when he was playing for the Minnesota Menace. The kid was crazy as a cut snake but he was freakishly fast.

Mackenzie and I watched their scrimmage from behind the boards.

Cowboy flew across the ice then smashed into the plexi behind the net.

I looked at Mackenzie. “Yee—fucking—hah.”

When Loki the Destroyer threw his stick to the ground and went chest to chest with Jupiter, I turned away.

“This is the team you want me to join?” I asked.

“This is the team you are joining.”

I shook my head and folded my arms. “Fuck!”

Mackenzie gave me a friendly punch to the arm. “That’s the spirit!”

I gave her a sideways glance. “I’m serious, Z. I’m not some magic fix for these guys.”

“And no one is expecting you to be. You just need to play. Just be you.” She smiled up at me. “The awesome you. Not the pain in the ass you.”

I sighed and turned back to the ice just in time to see Cowboy get in a tangle with Casanova and the two tumbled to the ice.

That’s when I realized . . . I’d taken a gamble and landed right at the bottom of the leader board.

*   *   *

Mackenzie

Because Galveston didn’t have an ice arena, and the nearest option was Houston, Johnny Pepper simply built one.

At first he’d had trouble getting the necessary go-ahead for the construction and it looked like he would need to set up his hockey team in Houston. But Johnny Pepper would rather cut off his right arm than do that and rumor had it, he had to pass over some serious cash to speed things along.

When the approvals for construction went through, Pepper Industries built a state-of-the-art ice center to rival all the major sporting arenas, such as Madison Square Garden in New York, and the Joe Louis Arena in Detroit. It was rumored to cost more than two-hundred million, which apparently wasn’t even a dent in Johnny Pepper’s oil fortune.

Johnny had hoped the new arena and all the big money would result in the Galveston Fury becoming leading contenders for the Stanley Cup.  But after six bad seasons, it looked like all the money in the world couldn’t turn it around for the directionless team.

Now, it seemed, he was pinning all his hopes on a grumpy coach fresh out of retirement, and an ex-hockey star who wasn’t quite sure what the hell he was even doing there.

Jake and I, and a NHL certified member of the legal team at Eden, Fox & Coulter, joined Coach Sandusky in his office to deal with the paperwork. Now, Jake was signing on the dotted line. I sat next to him, watching him with pride as he made a season commitment to the Galveston Fury. He looked up at me and winked and for some stupid reason, tears began to form at the back of my eyes.

Jake Pennington was back.

Before Coach Sandusky signed, he asked if he could have a few moments alone with Jake. I had looked at my gloriously handsome hockey boyfriend, who nodded.

After saying goodbye to my colleague from the agency, I waited in the rink where four Fury players were participating in some kind of scrimmage. When they noticed me watching them, three of them skated over to me.

“Well, hello, lovely lady,” the tallest of the players greeted me with a flirtatious grin. “They call me Jupiter and these two hairy louts here are Casanova and Cowboy.”

The hockey players sized me up and I sized them up right back. Although, with Jupiter, it was more like he was checking me out.

“I’m Mackenzie,” I said, shaking his hand. “Jake’s agent.”

Jake and I had agreed to keep our involvement quiet for the meantime. To his new team, I was simply his agent.

“Jake Pennington? Ah, yes, Coach told us he was coming onboard.” Jupiter said. He looked and sounded like Tom Ellis from Lucifer. Same dark hair and poise. Same sing-song cadence of an English accent. Even their mannerisms were the same. “And you’re his agent? That’s so sexy.”

“Ignore him,” said the man I now knew as Casanova. He took my hand and kissed it. “He thinks everything is sexy. But then again, since it involves a beautiful woman I must admit he got it right this time.” Casanova was smooth and I couldn’t help but smile at how charming he was.

Casanova was the Rob Lowe of the group. Devastatingly good looking but without a single shred of arrogance about it. You could tell he knew he was hot—I mean, he’d have to be blind not to know it—but he certainly didn’t seem affected by it.

I turned to look at Cowboy who was leaning against his hockey stick.

“Hey, darlin’” he said with a wink. He was attractive but not in the league of the others. Until he smiled. Then that boy was beautiful.

The fourth hockey player stayed out on the ice but kept circling past us like he was working up to a driveby. He was obviously sizing me up as he did slow passes by us, and going by the look on his face he was suspicious of me.

“Who’s that?” he called out to Casanova, Cowboy, and Jupiter as if I wasn’t even there. Subtlety obviously wasn’t his strong suit.

“This is Mackenzie,” Jupiter called back.

The lone hockey player did another circle, his inquisitive and wary eyes fixed on me.

“What does she want?” he called across the ice—again, as if I wasn’t even there.

“She’s Jake’s agent,” Jupiter replied.

Another circle later and the lone hockey player pulled his mask down and skated off without another word.

“And that charming and charismatic young pup is Loki the Destroyer—resident number one goalie,” Jupiter said.

“Friendly,” I replied, a little confused by Loki’s attitude toward me.

“Don’t worry, he’s just socially awkward,” Casanova explained. “He’s wary of strangers and he doesn’t like change.”

“It takes him a while to warm to people,” Cowboy added.

“Kid is as crazy as a fox,” Jupiter said. “But a damn good goalie.”

Jake returned with Coach.

“Well?” I asked.

“It’s done,” Coach said, giving Jake a pat on the back.

Jake looked at me. “Looks like I’m moving to Galveston.”

Our eyes lingered for a moment as his words sank in. Jake was actually going to play for the Galveston Fury. It was really happening.

“Welcome to the Fury, bro,” Cowboy said, offering Jake a hand.

“Thanks, man.”

Casanova and Jupiter followed suit.

“I think this calls for a celebratory drink!” Jupiter said, clapping his hands together, and we all agreed.

We ended up in a saloon-style bar called Stars & Stetsons, a quintessential Texas honky tonk where the smell of old leather and timber lingered in the air, alongside the pungent scent of stale alcohol. On stage, two guys and a girl sat on stools with their guitars, singing a country song I didn’t recognize. However, Cowboy did, and he started singing along loud and proud.

Casanova immediately lined shots up on the bar and we all did them. I lost count after the fourth.

Later, when Casanova, Cowboy, and Jupiter joined the band on stage to help sing Linda Ronstadt’s Blue Bayou, I asked Jake what Coach had wanted to talk to him about.

“He wanted to know where my head was at,” he said, flinching at how bad his teammates were singing. They were out of key and totally failed to hit any of the high notes in the song. “He wanted to know how I felt about joining the team. Where I was at with Tyler’s death.”

“And?”

“I told him the truth. That I’m good. That it had taken a while but I was on the road to recovery. And it’s all true, because I am.” He gave me an unguarded look. One full of affection. “Because of you.”

I shook my head. “No. Jake. It’s because of you.”

His hand slid to mine. “Don’t underestimate what you’ve done, Z. I’m here because you believed in me.”

Loki came crashing into us, breaking the moment between us. He was full of beer and determined to burn a hole in the dance floor. When I looked back to Jake, he winked at me and I realized with absolutely clarity that I was crazy in love with him.

Later, when the band started to sing Glenn Campbell’s Galveston, we were all drunk enough to sing along. Out of key but united as one bad voice we all sang with pride, our arms draped along one another’s shoulders as we massacred the classic. But as bad as we were, everyone in the bar seemed to appreciate it, and before long they were all singing along, too.

When the song finished, Jake came up behind me and leaned into me.

“I’m dying to touch you,” he whispered into my ear, sending shivers up my spine.

I couldn’t help but smile. I was dying for him to touch me.

“Nice to know that singing country music makes you horny,” I said, enjoying the heat of his body up against mine.

His lips grazed my throat as he leaned in. “No, my girlfriend does.” He guided my hand to his groin and held it hard against the hardness there.

I twisted around to face him and he gave me a look so loaded with heat it made my toes curl.

“Come on. I’m ten seconds away from kissing you so if you want to keep our façade up any longer we’re going to have to leave,” he said.

“Oh, yeah, and what happens when we leave?”

He pressed his lips to my ear. “I’m going to fuck you, baby. And I’m going to keep fucking you until you scream my name. Do you understand? Over. And. Over.”

We made a hasty retreat from the saloon and raced back to the hotel where Jake did exactly what he had promised, right into the early hours of the next day.

*   *   *

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mackenzie

“And here we are again. Another meaningless hockey game with the Galveston Fury. I bet you’re looking forward to the next sixty minutes, Bob.”

“About as much as I look forward to a hole in the head, Jim. Those Fury are as exciting to watch as—wait a minute, am I miked up? Is this thing on?”

—Jim Keeper and Bob Murdoch, seasoned sports casters for CBO Television and callers of the Galveston Fury games for seven years.

Jake’s return to the ice was unannounced. He just appeared on the ice when the Galveston Fury faced off with the Oregon Outlaws.

It was my first game watching the Fury and the crowd was thin. Just like the love for the home team. It seemed even the hometown had given up on their guys and watched them with the same lackluster interest as the rest of the world.

“The last time I was this nervous I was facing a man with a gun in his hand,” Coach quipped. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, feeling just as nervous he was, and he winked at me.

Jake appeared on the ice and my heart burst with pride. He was so big and strong. He was already broad shouldered and wide-chested, but in his hockey uniform he was downright huge. He looked like an impenetrable wall of solid muscle and strength.

I squeezed tighter on Coach’s fingers and he looked at me, an affectionate look creeping into his eyes.

“You know, I haven’t had a chance to say it before now, kid, but thanks.” He was awkward in showing any type of emotion but it made it all the more appreciative. “If you hadn’t walked into the bar that Saturday afternoon . . . well, I think we have a lot to be thankful for.”

I grinned but damn if my nerves weren’t taking off like a firecracker. 

“He’s a special guy,” I replied, watching as the man I had fallen in love with glided across the ice. I turned back to Coach. “Hey, he’s got this.”

Just before the start of the game, while the music still blared out of the state-of-the-art arena sound system and the two teams warmed up on the ice, two older men appeared at our side.

They were Jim Keeper and Bob Murdoch, sportscasters for the Galveston Fury. Dressed in suits, but both looking slightly disheveled, they didn’t seem very interested in the game they were about to call.

“Rumor has it you have a new player,” Jim Keeper said. He had a head of shocking white hair and was the more distinguished of the two.

“Oh, yeah, and who would that be?” Coach asked, his eyes fixed firmly on the ice.

“Jake Pennington,” Bob Murdoch replied.

Judging by both of their demeanors, neither of them believed it.

“Seems like the grapevine has it right this time,” Coach said.

Jim and Bob traded looks.

 “So you’re saying that is Jake Pennington out there?” Jim Keeper asked, unable to contain his surprise.

“The one and only,” I replied proudly.

“And he’s playing for the Fury?” Bob Murdoch asked, just as surprised.

Coach gestured to the number nine jersey on the ice and both men turned to look.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” Bob said shaking his head.

We all watched for a moment before Jim turned back to Coach. “Well, good luck, buddy. Can’t get any worse, I suppose.”

I watched the well-seasoned sportscasters walk away and sighed. Did anyone have faith in the Galveston Fury?

I looked at Coach who looked nervous.

“Do you think your boy is on point, kid?” he asked.

Hiding my anxiety I winked and grinned. “Don’t worry, Coach. The Fury have got his.”

And they did.

They beat the Oregon Outlaws in a landslide six to one victory.

In the commentator’s booth, Bob Murdoch summed up the feeling in the arena perfectly, “Holy freakin’ smokes, the Galveston Fury actually won.”

*   *   *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mackenzie

“And welcome back to game four of the mighty Galveston Fury versus the Minnesota Menace. And what a game it’s going to be.”

“You know, the Fury really need to win this if they want in on those playoffs.”

“And the key to winning is . . ?”

“Not losing, Jim.”

—Jim Keeper & Bob Murdoch, profound sportscasters for CBO Television

Over the next six weeks, the Galveston Fury moved through the leader board, slowly making their way toward the top.

To say Jake was in form was an understatement. He was like a tornado on the ice. Focused and determined. The media was quick to jump on his story and within two games he was being hailed as The Comeback Kid.

But for all the excitement surrounding his return to the ice, Jake’s focus remained on his team and the ultimate goal: the Stanley Cup. If they won the next two games, it would put them in contention for a wild card placement into the Stanley Cup playoffs.

Seasoned and more than experienced, he saw the weakness in each player and set about helping them overcome what was holding them back on the ice.

With Loki the Destroyer, it was his anger issues and lack of restraint that led to his aggressive behavior on the ice. So Jake spent some time with him off the ice, taking him to Tai Chi and yoga classes to help the volatile goalie cope with his rage and violent tendencies.

Loki had also suffered a terrible groin injury several months earlier and even though it had healed, psychologically he was being held back by fear. He’d once been known for his quick splits and quick puck blocking moves, but now Loki was more likely to freeze when a puck came flying at his crease. Until Jake took him to Pilates classes.

The change was almost immediate. 

Because Jake spent a lot of time with Loki, I got to know him as well, and we formed a strange, unique friendship. He felt like a younger brother—the strange, weird brother you lock in the basement—but a brother, nonetheless.

Loki collected goalie helmets and spent a fortune on them. Every game saw a different helmet with a new character painted onto the carbon fiber shell—from Sylvester the Cat and Kermit the Frog, to the more terrifying yeti, skull, and Lucifer masks.

Casanova’s fall down was more off the ice. Puck-bunny addiction. It was a lot harder to treat and almost beyond Jake’s capabilities.

So he got Casanova right where his heart should be. His pride. He had a friend put together some of the best footage of past Stanley Cup wins and after getting Casanova drunk on his favorite scotch, he made him watch it, frame by ostentatious frame. Jake had managed to get Casanova so excited about the possibility of winning the Cup, the legendary lothario had signed an agreement to not dabble in any puck-bunny activity until after the playoffs.

Cowboy was impressed.

Hell, I was impressed. Casanova’s exploits were legendary. Even to a rookie like me.

With Hank the Tank, it was his lack of speed on the ice. Oh, he had the size and braun but it slowed him down when it counted. So, Jake got up early and helped Hank improve his speed with predawn time trials and sprints every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Next up was Jupiter. Sweet Jupiter. The British charmer was lovely. Whenever I was around the team, he always paid special attention to me. He had no idea that Jake and I were anything more than agent and player, because Jake and I had decided to keep our personal involvement a secret for the time being. So, he was flirtatious and charming, and made no secret that he was interested in me. Jake did, however, get him to give up his penchant for fine scotch during the conference campaign.

One day when I was watching a scrimmage on the ice, and Jake had already gone to the locker room to change, Jupiter decided to make a move and asked me out on a date.

I had to think quick.

“I don’t mix business and pleasure,” I said, trying to sound direct but at the same time trying to let him down gently.

“That’s good, because the way I see it, Jake is your business and I am more than willing to be your pleasure.” His smile was disarming. Playful. Lethal. “How about dinner?”

“Thanks for the offer, but—”

I was about to tell Jupiter that I had a boyfriend but Loki interrupted us, calling out to me across the ice. “Kenzie! Look!” He held up his newest helmet. “It’s a real Loki mask!”

He put the intimidating green mask on and started to do a little dance across the ice. I broke into laughter.

Jupiter winked at me and started to skate off. “Just so you know, I’m going to keep asking until you say yes.”

He was gone before I could reply.

Later when I told Jake, instead of laughing it off like I thought he would, his eyebrows drew in and he looked serious—almost sulky—as he listened to me. We were in the massive two-story home he was renting in Galveston. It was huge, with high ceilings, tall walk-through windows, and a wide wrap-around veranda.

Jake was lying on his bed, propped up against his pillows, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweats that sat low on his hips.

“You’re frowning,” I said, after telling him about Jupiter.

“My teammate is hitting on my girlfriend,” he replied, his eyes dark as he watched me walk toward him. “I know I’ve never had a girlfriend before, but I’m pretty sure me wanting to rip Jupiter’s face off right now is about normal.”

I couldn’t help but grin. I’d never seen the jealous side of Jake before and it was kind of a turn on.

I climbed on the bed but stayed at the edge.

“You know, you don’t have anything to feel jealous about,” I reassured him. “Jupiter hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“He wants to fuck my girlfriend,” Jake said frankly.

I crawled across the bed and slid my legs on either side of his abs to straddle him.

“Well, at least he wants to take me to dinner first,” I joked, but Jake barely cracked a smile and I was a little taken back by how deep his jealousy went.

He flinched as my fingers found the warm planes of his abs.

“He called me beautiful,” I teased, heat instantly pooling in the places I wanted Jake to satisfy when I shifted against the growing thickness in his sweatpants. When I splayed my fingers across his chest I felt his heartbeat speed up.

“That is because you are,” he replied, fixing me with his dark eyes. “I don’t think there is one guy on the team who hasn’t imagined you naked.”

I leaned down and brushed my lips against his. “Well, aren’t you the lucky one then because you get to see me naked whenever you want to.”

I pulled away to look at him and his hands slid up my hips to hold me in place.

“Whenever I want to?”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Whenever. You. Want. To.”

Slowly, I began to undo the buttons of my shirt, my eyes remaining firmly focused on my boyfriend who was now fully hard beneath me.

When I peeled off my shirt and dropped it to the floor, I saw lust flash in his eyes. I shifted against him and pleasure rippled across his face. Again, his lips parted and a small puff of air left his mouth.

“I want you to give me what only you can give me,” I breathed.

I pushed the band of his sweatpants down and took him in my hands, and he shivered beneath my touch, a small moan escaping his parted lips as my fingers curled around him. He was so big and thick and my body throbbed with the need to have him inside of me.

Rising up on my knees I adjusted my thong to one side, and then slowly—very slowly—sank down onto his thickness, drawing him in and swallowing him wholly.

Jake’s head fell and his eyes rolled back.

“Oh, baby . . .” he moaned, his jealousy seemingly forgotten.

I closed my eyes as I settled around him and a million tiny pulses of bliss fluttered through me. He filled me completely, his hardness and his size fitting me perfectly in every way, and I needed a moment because it felt so good.

Then very slowly, I began to rock against him and the pleasure was immediate. In this position, every sensitive nerve was caught up in a tidal wave of friction. No matter how I moved, no matter what direction, no matter how deep or shallow my hips moved, the sensation was cranked up to an intensity I had never experienced before.

My head fell back and his name fell from my lips as I moved against him. Oh, God.

I straightened to meet his dark gaze, and a billion stars of euphoria exploded in me as I took in his expression of uncertainty . . . of vulnerability.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he breathed deeply. “Just mine .  .  .”

I didn’t say anything, instead, I let my body do the talking. I clenched around him tighter, gripping him, showing him how in this moment I was his and only his.

And then I watched as he closed his eyes and his fingers pressed into my hips and his body responded to what I was doing to him. His brows drew together. He pushed his head back into his pillows and his mouth parted with a long and drawn-out moan. Running his powerful hands up my back, he pulled me down to him and shuddered, moaning my name into my shoulder as he pulsed inside of me.

Pleasure tore through me like an atomic bomb. Watching him come, hearing him breathe my name as he was consumed by ecstasy was too much and I was rocked by a climax so powerful I cried out, dragging my nails down his chest as I came.

When I pulled back to look at him, I was stalled by the look of vulnerability still on his face. I stared into his eyes and I could see the emotion there, unveiled and running deep.

I pressed my mouth to his. “I’m yours,” I whispered against his lips. “Yours and only yours.”

Jake’s voice was hoarse. “I hope so, Z. Because every part of me belongs to you.”

*   *   *

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mackenzie

The following morning, Jake went out for coffee and breakfast while I slept in. I’d stayed up late the night before trying to defuse the impact of Daisy Jones’s latest drama. She had rear-ended someone on her way home from a nightclub and then failed the mandatory sobriety test afterwards. The ramifications were going to be huge. Especially with her endorsement deals, considering one of them was with SafetyFirst, a national vehicle safety brand.

I had rang John Johnston, her manager, and told him we needed to meet. Daisy was unraveling and we needed to get her the help she needed before she had some kind of breakdown. Her well-being was my priority, while her ability to go on tour in two weeks was his.

We had argued and he had pulled rank. I was only her agent while he was her manager. He told me to shut the hell up, so I told him to go fuck himself. Daisy needed something, and she needed that something quick.

Daisy wasn’t answering her phone so I left her a ton of messages to call me. When she didn’t, I’d waited up, pacing and worrying, a thousand different scenarios rushing through my brain as to why she wasn’t answering her phone. Finally, a little after one o’clock in the morning, her father rang me to let me know she was safely tucked into bed.

Exhausted, I’d climbed into bed next to a sleeping Jake and fallen asleep curled into his warmth.

Hours later, the sound of Jake closing his bedroom door woke me up.

“Hey, Sleepy,” he said gently. When I briefly peeked through tired eyes he was sitting on the edge of the bed, a box of Krispy Kreme in one hand, and to-go coffee in the other.

I closed my eyes and smiled to myself. I was a damn lucky girl.

“Is that Krispy Kreme?” I asked, opening one eye.

“Yep.”

“And a coffee with creamer and two sugars?”

“A-ha.”

I opened both eyes. “Am I dreaming?”

“Na-ah.” He grinned. “Am I the best or what?”

I sat up and grinned back at him. “You are seriously the best!” I watched as he opened the Krispy Kreme box and six shiny, original, glazed donuts came into view. “God, I love you.”

Jake paused and turned to look at me, his eyes as wide as saucers, his eyebrows raised.

Mine went just as wide when I realized what I had said.

Immediately, my mind snapped wide awake. “No, I don’t. That’s not what I meant,” I backpedaled quickly. I closed my eyes and mentally face palmed. When I opened them again, Jake was grinning up at me.

“I don’t love you,” I assured him.

His grin grew wider. “Yes, you do. You totally love me. And you should, because I am so damn lovable.”

I rolled my eyes at him, “And not to mention modest.”

 I reached for a donut. But he yanked the box away. “Nah-uh. Not ‘til you say it again.”

When he pulled out an original glazed donut and held it even farther away I gave up. “Fine,” I said. “I love you.” I gave him a pointed look. “Now can I have the donut?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not ‘til you say it like you mean it.”

I slumped my shoulders. “You’re mean.”

“No, I’m not. I think we’ve already established how lovable I am.” He held the donut to his mouth. “Now say it, or the donut gets it.”

I sighed. Defeated. The safety of my donut depended on it. Rising up on my knees I looked him in the eyes and placed my hand over his heart.

“Jake Pennington—sexiest hockey player of all time—not only do I love you . . .” I paused, my eyes on his, “but I am crazy for you.”

As I spoke Jake’s face grew serious. All the humor left his eyes and I watched as his pulse pounded against his throat. The moment had turned serious. Beneath my hand, his heart sped up. I smiled and went to pull my hand away to reach for my donut but he quickly pressed it back down to his chest.

“Do you mean that?” he asked softly. 

I looked at him and love burst from my heart, flooding every pore of my being.

“More than you could know,” I replied.

His eyes searched my face, searching for any sign I was playing around. But I wasn’t. I was crazy in love with him and I didn’t plan on fighting it anymore.

Finally, he smiled that big bright smile of his, and handed me my donut.

I grinned as I bit into it, and then pressed sugary kisses all over his beautiful mouth with my original glazed-covered lips. He laughed and pulled me down to him, flipping me on my back and kissing me hard and long.

He didn’t say I love you back but I didn’t need him to. I had a feeling my hockey player was already crazy in love with me.

*   *   *

Jake

I was crazy in love with her.  Mind-blowing, crazy, all-consuming in love with her. And she was so easy to fall in love with because she was beautiful and sexy, and funny, and I couldn’t get enough of her.

In all the chaos of playing for a new team and training hard for a conference win, she was my sanity. My ground. The days I came home to find her sitting on the porch reading, or napping in my bed, or in the kitchen attempting to make some kind of edible meal, were the happiest days of my life. I would scoop her up in my arms and spend the next few hours slowly making love to her until we were both spent.

It was an incredible time. Everything was so new. Our relationship. My job. Where I lived. And best of all, I got to do it all with her. Together we explored Galveston and I began to fall in love with the island where everyone was so warm and welcoming. We lost hours exploring the nineteenth-century charm of historic, downtown Galveston, sightseeing and drinking in the sunshine and activity around the bustling seaport, and the different bars and restaurants that peppered the eclectic town. And it was easy to be seduced by the lazy, calmness of living on an island where it took you no more than twenty minutes to get anywhere you wanted to go. It was a stark change from New York.

We traveled all over the country together and man, I can’t tell you how good it felt knowing she was right by my side.

And at the end of the season when we placed fourth on the leader board and secured our wild card entry into the Western conference campaign, there was no-one else I wanted by my side.

When she was gone I missed her. Like my right arm. But then she’d fly in and when I’d pick her up from the airport she’d run toward me and leap into my arms, and wrap her legs around my hips as we kissed like we were absolutely thirsty for each other. And I was thirsty for her. Always. When we were apart I longed for her. When I was training, I was counting the time until I was with her and could do all the things to her that my body begged me to do.

It was also a magical time of getting to know her body. A time of learning what she liked. Of what made her moan that long, drawn-out moan of hers as she writhed and came undone in my bed. We spent hours exploring one another’s bodies in the shadow and light of my bedroom. Touching. Licking. Caressing. Discovering. It was an incredible time. One that filled me with a vibrant happiness that I didn’t even know existed before her. We would make love and she would evoke things in me, make me feel things I had never imagined, make me hope for things that I had given up wanting or believing in when my life had taken its downward spiral. She made me want to breathe again. 

She was my everything.

I knew she loved me and I longed to tell her that I felt the same way. But I had never traveled down that path before, had never said those three words to a woman before, and I had no idea how to say them.

Until one night.

It was at the magnificent Galveston Festival of Lights that I turned to my amazing girlfriend and finally told her that I was in love with her.

We had just brought ice creams and were strolling hand in hand through the resplendent forest of lights when I stopped walking. Mackenzie swung around, her ice cream paused mid-lick as she looked at me questioningly. “Everything okay?”

Standing there, in the glow of more than a million lights she looked like an angel. A beautiful, mesmerizing angel I now knew I couldn’t live without. My heart swelled in my chest.

“I love you,” I said. As simple as that.

Mackenzie looked at me with surprise. “What?”

I didn’t move. “I love you.” And I meant it with every atom of my being. I shook my head as if I couldn’t quite believe it. “I’m so in love with you, Z.”

A slow smile spread across her beautiful face, and light from overhanging light-icicles bounced off her incredible lips as she closed the space between us.

“You love me?” She looked up at me, her dimples deep in her cheeks on either side of her lovely mouth.

I slid my arm around her waist. “Baby, I’m so crazy in love with you I can barely think straight.”

She bounced up on her toes to kiss me and I pulled her up into my arms and kissed her hard. Her ice cream toppled to the ground and we both turned to see it splatter across the concrete. When she turned back to me she stared into my eyes.

“I love you, too, Jake. More than I could ever show you.”

We made our way along a pathway paved in fairy lights and animated light displays, and in my room back in the house on Seawall Boulevard, I made love to her long and slow, savouring every inch of her, relishing every touch of her skin against my skin, every touch of her tongue on mine. It was so damn magical I felt swept away by all the sensations.

As she lay in my arms afterwards, I felt an overwhelming feeling of joy in my chest. Despite the cold weather outside, sweat beaded on her forehead from our lovemaking.

“I never thanked you,” I said, wiping a lock of her blonde hair from her eyes.

“Thanked me for what?”

As I gazed down at her I tried to make sense of all the new emotions coursing through me. My emotions were running deep tonight. “For giving me a reason to breathe.”

Lines creased her brow. “You didn’t need me to do that, Jake.”

I looked down at her beautiful face.

“That’s the thing, Z,” I replied. “I did.”

*   *   *

Chapter Thirty

Mackenzie

In May, I was back home in New York setting up a sponsorship deal between Jake and the leading mens’ toiletry brand, Chisel. They knew Jake’s story, knew he was being touted as the latest come-back kid and were keen to have him advertise their line of shaving products.

While home, I was also getting in some much-needed catch-up time with Meg and Anna in the form of some seriously fun girls’ nights out.  Anna was dating a girl called Violet and a guy named Oscar, and neither had any idea about the other. While Meg was nursing a mildly broken heart over a guy called Boomer, who had wined and dined her for three weeks and then took her home to meet his stepmom. Who Meg suspected was a little more than his stepmom.

“Stepmom was three years younger than him,” Meg had explained. “Daddy is rich and likes them young.”

“But what made you think there was more between the two of them?” I had asked.

“Pretty much when she tongue-kissed him hello.”

“Riiiight.”

After a very awkward half-hour where stepmom and stepson were very touchy feely with one another, Meg had excused herself to use the bathroom, escaped out the front door of the exclusive Upper West Side apartment, and deleted Boomer’s number from her phone.

Now she was absolutely convinced there were no suitable, un-weird single men left in New York.

“Seriously, Mack, that’s the only criteria I have—that they are un-weird!”

Seeing her frustration, I thought of Jake and how lucky I was to have such an incredible man in my life. Love and longing flared in my chest. I hadn’t seen him in almost three weeks and I physically ached for him.

The day before I was due to fly back to Galveston, I was reading over the Chisel contract with a cup of coffee in my hand. Meg was in the shower, while Anna entertained Violet in her bedroom.

My phone rang. It was Macy Carmichael, Daisy’s publicist.

She didn’t waste time with greetings.

“Goddamnit, Macca!” Macy was Australian, and from the very first moment I had met her she had shortened my name to Macca. “Talk some sense into that girl, will you, before I throttle her for being such an imbecile.”

Inwardly, I grimaced, bracing myself. “What has Daisy done now?”

“She’s goddamn gone and dyed her hair blue!”

She did what?

“Goddamn blue!” I could feel Macy’s irritation seep through the phone. “I swear to God, Macca, that kid is doing my head in. You need to reign her in or you’ll be sending my Christmas card to Rikers.”

The moment she hung up, my phone rang again. It was Daisy.

“I hate everyone,” she snapped in my ear. “I hate John. I hate Macy. I hate—”

“Do you hate your one-point-two-million-dollar Bella Dea deal, as well?” I asked abruptly.

I could tell she was taken back. “What?”

“You know, that very lucrative endorsement deal you have with Bella Dea hair products. The one where you tell everyone how you owe your beautiful honey-blonde hair to their Blonde Goddess range. Remember the very famous catch phrase, Daisy? Blondes really do have more fun.” I put on her Nashville accent as I repeated the catchphrase in the renowned TV commercial, and mimicked her famous giggle at the end. Everybody knew the commercial. Everybody knew that giggle. “Do you really think they’re going to want you to do that while your hair is blue?”

“I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t. And it’s getting tiring.” I flicked through my business card portfolio at my desk. “I’m sending you a number for a hairstylist in Beverly Hills. He’s expensive as hell but that’s because he is so goddamn good. Phone him. Fix your hair and don’t ever—and I mean ever—do anything to your hair again. Do you understand what I’m saying, Daisy? Don’t make me come to LA and drag you there myself!”

She raised her voice in a final show of defiance. “It’s my hair!”

To which I raised mine back. “No, it’s not, Daisy. It’s Bell Dea’s hair. All one-point-two million dollars of it! So, unless you want to hand back all that glorious cash, fix your goddamn hair.”

Frustrated, I hung up. Seriously, when was she ever going to learn?

Pinching the bridge of my nose I began to mentally count down the hours before I saw Jake again. I was tired and stressed, and I needed him.

The sexts he sent me weren’t enough. I needed my man to fuck me.

A knock at the door made me jump. Mentally sorting out what bottle of red wine I was going to open, I crossed the room and opened the front door and was surprised to see Jupiter casually leaning against the doorframe.

And he was baring gifts of wine and flowers.

Of course he was.

“Jupiter, what a lovely surprise,” I said, rustling up as much enthusiasm as I could on a day like today.

He grinned that charismatic grin of his. “I’m taking you out. Now I know how you don’t like to mix business with pleasure, but technically I’m not on the job. I’m in town on personal business. So how about it, fancy hitting the Big Apple with me?”

I sighed. It was definitely time to let the secret out of the bag.

“How about you come in,” I said, opening the door wider. “I think there’s something you should know.”

We sat on the window seat overlooking the Village. Outside the shadows were growing long as the sun began to disappear into the horizon.

“So where are we going for dinner?” Jupiter asked confidently in that glorious British accent.

I grimaced. “See, that’s the problem.” I sighed, not relishing the idea of letting him down. “Jupiter, you’re so adorable but I already have a boyfriend.”

He looked aghast. “A boyfriend?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He took a moment to register what I had said.

“Damn.” He sighed. And then asked cheekily. “Is it serious?”

I thought of Jake and my heart sped up. “Yeah, it’s serious.”

Jupiter’s eyes went to town on my face. “Well . . . he’s a lucky guy. My hat goes off to him. He’s found himself a wonderful woman.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

Jupiter exhaled deeply. “Well, then, this suddenly seems wildly inappropriate.” He held up the wine and flowers. “Perhaps I should be going and we could both pretend this never happened.”

He stood up to leave but I stopped him.

“There’s one more thing . . .”

He looked at me. I had to tell him because when Jake and I went public with our relationship, I didn’t want there to be any weirdness between us.

“My boyfriend . . . ”

“Yes,” he prompted.

“. . . well, it’s Jake.”

It took him a moment to process what I was saying.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“Jake,” I repeated. “He’s my boyfriend.”

He looked surprised, as if it didn’t make any sense to him. “As in the Sasquatch?”

Again, I nodded. “The one and only.”

He slowly lowered himself back down onto the sofa. “Well, I’ll be goddamned. That sneaky little bugger.”

That was when Meg decided to wander in dressed in a fluffy pink robe with a towel wrapped around her head. She had a white face mask smeared across her skin making her look like something from a Day of the Dead celebration.

“You must be Mackenzie’s hot hockey player,” she said, not at all concerned about how she looked. 

Jupiter leapt up. “Not Mackenzie’s hot hockey player, but a hot hockey player, nonetheless.” He grinned and extended her his hand. “James Charles Arbour, how do you do?”

“Meg Brown,” she replied, giving me a quick glance as she questioned why she had just given her surname to this complete stranger.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Meg Brown.”

“Likewise.” My best friend said slowly. And I could see it slowly tick over in her mind that this gloriously beautiful man standing in front of her was not just beautiful and sexy, but quite possibly available. Then she realized that she was standing there looking decidedly unbeautiful and unsexy in her robe and towel.

Her eyes widened and she reached up to touch her face. “Oh, hell.”

But Jupiter was clearly not put off by any of it and that night he took Meg out to dinner. At two-thirty in the morning when I got up for a glass of water I heard some tell-tale noises coming from her bedroom that told me their date was going extremely well.

I grinned as I skipped past her bedroom door on the way back to my bedroom.

Meg had found her suitable, un-weird guy after all.

*   *   *

Chapter Thirty-One

Mackenzie

The next day I flew into Galveston. It was time everyone knew about me and Jake.

Landing just before lunch I took a cab to the rink where the Fury were mid-training, and walked onto the ice and right up to Jake where I leapt into his arms and mashed my mouth to his. I was done with this façade, and judging by the way Jake was kissing me back, so was he. It had been pointless.

I vaguely heard a hockey stick drop and a couple of gasps from his teammates. Michael Angelo wolf whistled. While Loki sounded confused as he asked, “Isn’t she his agent?”

But I was too consumed by the pair of strong arms around me, and the sweetest pair of lips sending shivers through my body, to notice much else. I felt Jake grin so I pulled back.

“Is that obvious enough?” I asked.

“I think they get the picture,” he replied, his smile as bright as a floodlight.

Coach’s voice interrupted us. “When you kids are ready, you think we can get back to hockey? This isn’t The Bold and the Beautiful, you know.”

Still secure in Jake’s arms, I turned my head to him, unable to stop grinning. “Is that your favorite soap, Coach?”

Coach looked unimpressed. “You’re fucking hilarious, kid.”

“Sorry, Coach.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No, seriously. I’m sorry, because I have to steal Jake away from you for the rest of the afternoon.”

“You do?” Both Jake and Coach asked at the same time.

I looked at Jake, packing as much heat in my eyes so he knew exactly what sort of afternoon he was in for, and he grinned.

I turned back to Coach. “Yeah . . . it’s, um . . . business. And it can’t wait.”

Coach pointed a finger. “He’s back here at eight AM tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!”

“You got it, Coach,” Jake said, grinning.

Coach wandered off, shaking his head.

I looked at Jake and then kissed him. “I missed you.” And then I couldn’t stop kissing him because it felt so damn good to be in his arms.

He skated us over to the edge of the rink. “I’m so damn hard right now,” he whispered in my ear, setting off every sexual charge in my body.

“Good because that’s about to come in real handy, real soon,” I said, finding his lips again.

I slid down from his embrace, making sure I moved slowly over the firmness in his shorts before finding my feet. Raw need was rampant on his face. We hadn’t seen each other in almost three weeks and I was desperate for some naked time. And going by the heat in Jake’s eyes and what was happening in his shorts, he felt exactly the same.

“You need to get me back to your place quickly,” I said.

“Baby, I’ve already planned the fastest route in my head.”

Less than twenty minutes later, we were rushing up the front steps of his house and then crashing like pinballs down the hallway as he kissed me fiercely en route to his bedroom. We fumbled with one another’s clothes, desperate to get the other naked.

“I want you so badly,” he moaned urgently between kisses.

“Then show me,” I breathed as he pulled my bra from my body and flung it behind him. Securing his hot mouth to mine he lifted me up and walked me to his bed where he thrust himself hard and deep into me. Instantly filled, a breathless cry left me, and I gripped his round shoulders as he began to satisfy me as only he could.

I had learned a good lesson while we were apart. Three weeks was too long to be without him. Because as much as Jake needed me; I needed him more.

*   *   *

Three days later, the Galveston Fury beat the Yellowstone Yetis to win the Western conference. This meant, the Fury were going to face off with the winners of the Eastern conference for the Stanley Cup.

The NYC Ice Cats.

*   *   *

Jake

Stanley Cup pregame light shows were legendary and the Galveston Fury versus the NYC Ice Cats pregame show was no different. The darkness of the arena was lit up in colourful glory by a multi-million-dollar lighting system

Like the Detroit Redwings had Al the Octopus, the Fury had a slinky, black-as-coal panther called, Priscilla. During the light show, Priscilla would appear on the ice as a 3-D projection, her big black paws slapping on the ice as she walked slowly across the rink. When we heard her roar, it would be time for us to enter the rink.

In the tunnel waiting to enter, I sucked in a deep breath to settle my thumping heart. Out in the arena it was a frenzy as the light show tantalized the crowd and Robbie Williams’s Let Me Entertain You blared through the speakers. We heard the renewed thunder of the crowd as Priscilla appeared on the ice, her heavy purring heard over the music. I looked at my teammates. We were all nervous as hell, but after a pregame rev-up from Coach we were ready to do what needed to be done.

But for me this was something different. This was the moment I had waited for for a long time.

Three months of hard work had all led to this one game. This one moment in time where I would face-off with Salazar—the player who I felt was just as responsible for Tyler’s death as I was. If he hadn’t gone after me and knocked me down that morning my skate would never have slit Tyler’s throat.

Priscilla’s mighty roar vibrated around the arena signaling to us that it was time, and again the crowd went crazy.

Casanova grinned and patted me on the shoulder, while Cowboy and Michael Angelo whooped and cheered.

Loki secured his helmet at the crown of his head. “Let’s go get those motherfucking pussies,” he crowed. 

As soon as we appeared on the ice, the crowd went wild. And I mean, wild. Their cheers reverberated throughout the arena, and as we circled our end of the ice I felt the energy of our fans flood every pore of my body. The roars, the cheering, the clapping, the spectacular light show—it was like a fuel line to my heart.

At the end of the song when the broad-beamed floodlights came on and all the flash and pizzazz disappeared in readiness for the game, I dragged in a long breath and then slowly exhaled. Biting back my nerves I glided across the ice to where Ayton Salazar waited for me.

His cold, shark eyes landed on me.

“Welcome back, widowmaker,” he jeered.

I leaned forward and winked at him.

Time to wipe the floor with his smug face.

*   *   *

Chapter Thirty-Two

Mackenzie

I was terrified, buzzing and excited all at the same time.  My heart was doing a crazy little dance in my chest as I stood on the sidelines of the rink and watched the Fury enter the rink. Around me, the light show bounced off the ice and the ceiling like fireworks. Excitement charged the air and the arena was a sea of red and black Galveston Fury jerseys.

There was so much hype around the first game of the best of seven. The NYC Ice Cats had lost the previous year’s Stanley Cup to the LA Lynx and they were hungry for the win. While the Fury wanted to prove that it was no fluke—they had earned their place in the top two.

It was the underdog stepping up to the top dog. Of course, there was no way the Galveston Fury would beat the NYC Ice Cats. No way. But everyone loved the idea that the team who had marinated for years at the bottom of the leader board was set to take on the championship favorites. 

It was your classic David and Goliath story. And everyone was going crazy for it.

As Jake skated onto the ice, the fans went crazy. They banged against the boards and screamed his name. Signs popped up in the crowd, welcoming Jake back to the playoffs—some even offering some kind of sexual favor or declaring their love for the returning hero. Jake looked focused as he took it in, his expression a perfect poker face, but I knew his heart would be thumping wildly and his nerves would be firing. He hid it well, but acknowledged his fans with a nod and a blink-and-you’d-miss-it salute before joining his teammates.

As the hype of the dazzling pre-game light show ended and the teams got ready to faceoff, Jake glided over to face the captain of the Ice Cats. Anticipation flared in my stomach.

You’ve got this, babe . . . you’ve got this.

The game was fast paced and Jake did not disappoint the crowd with his on-point performance, scoring two goals with two assists. It was a faultless game right up until the third period when one of the opposing team’s D-men came at him and they both went down. I saw the crash, saw him smash his shoulder to the ice as they fell in a tangled heap.

The penalty put the Fury in a prime position, and ten minutes later they won the game three to one.

The arena erupted with excitement. On the rink, gloves scattered the ice as the Fury celebrated their win.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” said a familiar voice next to me. I turned to see Bob Murdoch standing next to me. I had been so absorbed in the game I hadn’t even noticed him.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I replied.

After the game, the team had a few media commitments. It was almost an hour before I saw him but when I did I ran to him and he lifted me up in his arms and spun me around.

“I was going to ask you if you were okay,” I laughed as he placed me back down.

Jake’s smile was big and deliciously perfect. “Man, that felt good.”

“How’s your shoulder? It looked like a you took a pretty big hit to the ice.”

He shrugged it off. “It’s fine.” His eyes twinkled down at me and there was a familiar heat there. “Come on, let’s go back to my place and celebrate.”

Back at his apartment, I tended to Jake’s cranky shoulder. He sat on a stool in front of me, his skin warm from the shower, his hair still damp, and I kneaded and worked his muscles, my hands sliding over his golden skin and pressing deep into the crevices of his deltoids. He groaned at the relief.

I had a jar of massage cream in my bag and went to get it. But Jake grabbed my wrist. When I looked at him, I saw the heat in his eyes. I thought the game would exhaust him but I was wrong. It had turned him on. Despite his tangle with the overzealous D-man. Despite his sore shoulder. He tugged me back to him, securing his arms around me and pulling me down to him. His kiss was rough. Hot. Needy. He licked into me, the palms of his hands pressing into my jaw as he held my mouth to his.

There were no words. Just need. And when I pulled back, Jake growled and pulled me back to him, ripping open my shirt. I gasped and he grinned wickedly as his eyes glittered over my breasts.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he breathed.

“No.” I raised an eyebrow.

“At the game . . . you weren’t wearing it?” He asked, seemingly mesmerized by my breasts.

I gave a little shake of my head. “No.”

With a coarse rush of breath he moaned, “That’s so fucking sexy.” And he pulled me onto his lap and kissed me fiercely, his big hands holding my face to his. “You turn me on so much,” he murmured against my throat.

Energy spun around us in the room and instantly my body wanted him. I reached for him and he lifted me up, hooking his big arms behind my knees to carry me over to the bed. He lay me down and hovered above me, kissing me as he expertly peeled every item of clothing from my body. When he had me naked, his eyes took in every inch of me. His towel was gone, and I watched with needy desire as his cock dipped and lifted at the sight of my nakedness. He forced open my legs, exposing me completely, and he growled like a man possessed with need as he placed his bulk between my parted thighs, and his tongue licked over the very beginning of me. I flinched and moaned, my desire hitting a new level of desperation. His big hands gripped the back of my thighs, his fingers pushing deep into my muscles as his tongue licked and fucked me.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he groaned, trailing his tongue along my sex to my thigh. He pressed his face against my skin and I shivered, needing him, wanting him, wanting his cock inside me. His tongue traced an invisible path from my thighs to my belly, his gentle lips brushing across my skin, lighting fires along the length of me as he made his way up to my breasts. When his mouth closed over one nipple and then the next, I arched my back and moaned. And then his fingers took up the plight to tease me; sliding into me with a slow torturous rhythm, and it was all I could take to not beg him.

And then his cock was there. His big, gloriously hard cock. Holding it tightly at the base he rubbed the smooth head against the very sensitive part of me, pushing through the slickness, parting me, rubbing me, torturing me.

“Fuck me . . .” I finally begged, my body creaming with an urgent need to be filled with what was teasing me.

With one swift movement he rammed into me, thrusting a moan from my lips and taking the air from my lungs in surprise. He gripped my arms, and pressed strong fingers into my skin as he ploughed into me once more. His body was a mountain. A wall of cut muscle. And his bulk provided the perfect force behind each thrust. 

“You make me so hard, baby,” he breathed, his hips lunging toward mine, his cock pushing me toward the edge. “I want to feel you come. I want to feel your tight pussy when you come all over me.”

It was all I needed. He had taken me to the edge and now his words pushed me over it. My climax hit me like a tidal wave, whipping me off my axis and shooting me into outer space.

“That’s it, baby.” He pressed in hard, grinding against me, his brows pulled together as pleasure overwhelmed him. “You’re going to make me come.”

My orgasm rolled through me, on and on, and my muscles convulsed violently as he milked me with his words and his moans. He tucked his arms at my side, his body a slick and warm plane as he continued to fuck me with perfect rhythm. I wound my trembling legs around him, welcoming him deeper into me.

“Oh, Z . . .” He dragged in a deep breath and then thrust my arms above my head, holding them down. “I love fucking you,” he gazed down at me with hooded eyes, then squeezed them shut and his face shimmered with pleasure. “. . . what you do to me . . . I can’t get enough.”

I thought I was spent. Thought I was done. But a slow stream of hot sweetness flowed through me, gathering speed and heat and potency as it coiled around my clit and in one bright, devastating moment erupted into an almighty release of ecstasy.

I pressed my head backwards into the pillow and let out a long and rich moan as my second orgasm wrecked me.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed, grinding harder to make my orgasm draw out.

When it got to be too much, he pulled out and pressed the head of his cock into the soft folds, spilling come onto the wet lips of my sex. He shuddered and jerked, moaning as he milked himself onto me, every shudder bringing more.

With a groan he collapsed beside me and wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me to his thundering chest and pressing his warm lips to my temple.

He took a moment to catch his breath. For his heart to settle.

“You give me strength,” he whispered, his breath like a warm feather against my cheek.

I was so comfortable and hazy from my orgasms that I didn’t want to move. “What do you mean?” I murmured against his hard chest.

“What you do to me. I’ve never felt like this before.” His hand came up to tangle in my hair and gently massage my skull. Goosebumps rippled along my arms. “You make me feel strong.” He pressed another kiss to my hair and I felt him relax into the pillow. His head tilted back as he stared up at the ceiling. “You need to know . . .”

“What?”

“You are my everything now.”

*   *   *

Mackenzie

Three days later, the Fury handed the Ice Cats their asses in a fast-paced game that saw the Fury take home the win, four to one. Four days after that, they did the same thing in game three at Madison Square Garden.

Back at his apartment after the game, I stood on the little balcony overlooking the Village and watched the dying sun settle over the city. Jake came up behind me and began to lay a trail of kisses along the back of my neck and shoulders.

I turned in his arms and he kissed me deeply.

When he broke away he looked at me intently, “You know, things are going to get crazy if we win the Cup.”

I nodded in agreement. “I think they have already.”

His eyes glittered over my face as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Are you okay with it?”

Again, I nodded. “I am if you are.”

He grinned and then his eyes dropped to my lips and the way he looked at me sent all types of crazy throughout my body.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he said, his hands sliding up the length of me. “It wasn’t so long ago that I didn’t think my life could ever feel this good again.”

I laced my fingers at the back of his neck. “You deserve it.”

He pulled away and I watched as he crossed the room to where an impressive wall cabinet reached from the floor to the high plaster ceiling. He opened one of the many small little drawers and pulled out a small box.

Crossing the room back to me, he handed it to me, his eyes twinkling.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Open it,” he urged.

I pried open the lid and my breath trapped in my throat. Sitting on a bed of black velvet was a gleaming, silver charm bracelet.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, gingerly touching the shiny silver links with the tips of my fingers. It was stunning. A small, platinum heart hung off one of the links and engraved into the metal were the words, Something Real. My heart lurched. He had had this made for me. “I love it.”

His smile was gentle. Soft. Almost shy. And for a fleeting moment I realized he had probably never done anything like this before.

I tenderly touched his face. “Thank you.”

He bit his lower lip. “Here,” he said, delicately lifting the bracelet from the box and fastening it around my wrist. When I held my hand up to look at it, his eyes shone across at me.

“I love you, Z,” he said warmly and all the butterflies in my stomach took flight.

“I love you, too, Jake. So much.”

He leaned down and gently brushed his lips to mine and love burst out from my chest in a wave of warmth. But it wasn’t alone. Because rising up from deep within me was a gut-tightening surge of guilt.

*   *   *

Chapter Thirty-Three

Mackenzie

The headline read: Jake Pennington: From Nothing to Number One.

My father threw the paper down on his desk.

“Congratulations, kid,” he said with a big smile.

I didn’t share his enthusiasm. In fact, I couldn’t even manage a smile.

My eyes shifted to Garrick.

“I want out of the bet,” I said.

Garrick looked like I’d just told him Madonna was retiring.

“You’re kidding me?” He scoffed but then realizing I was serious, his grin faded. “Wait, you’re serious? You’re backing out?”

I nodded. “It was wrong to begin with.”

I shoved my hands into the back pocket of my jeans.

Garrick started to laugh. “Well, I’ll be! You like him.”

When I said nothing, my cousin’s smile faded and he gasped. “Oh, my Lord, you’re in love with him!”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

My father said nothing. But his wise eyes reached across the room to me and I knew in that moment that he knew how I felt about Jake. Instead of the frown I half expected, he gave me a gentle nod.

But Garrick wasn’t going to let me off so easy. In fact, he was highly amused. He clapped his hands together as he walked toward the edge of the large, mahogany desk, leaning against it and shaking his head with an odd mix of disbelief, smugness and an emotion he wasn’t accustomed to . . . appreciation.

“My cousin, in love with the hockey player!” he said with another shake of his head.

“Yep.”

“What a shame. You know you totally kicked my ass with this bet.” He folded his arms. “Are you sure you want to bow out?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and chuckled, looking down at the gold ring on his finger. “You did the impossible and made Jake Pennington hot property again. Purgatory was yours on a platter. It was a bet well played, my friend.”

“What bet?”

Hearing the voice behind me, I swung around and saw Jake in the doorway.

For a moment all three Edens in the room were speechless.

Horror tore through me. I’d forgotten Jake was coming in to see my father today.

Oh, God. How much had he overheard?

“This was a bet?” His brows knitted together and he shifted on his feet, looking confused.

I could almost see the cogs turning over in his brain. He was going to misunderstand this.

Slowly, I shook my head. “Jake . . . ”

He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath through his nose before opening them again. “A bet?” he asked with disbelief.

Shame mixed with panic. “Yes,” I whispered.

Fuming, he locked eyes with me and then without another word he walked out.

I went after him and by the time I caught up to him, he was already in the foyer, empty but for the two of us.

“My father wanted to release you from your contract. He said you were done,” I called out to him. I hated saying the words because I could see that they hurt him. His back went rigid, his head dropping slightly and I was filled with an overwhelming need to protect him. “But I didn’t believe that.”

He stopped at the front door and sucked in a deep breath, then taking a step back from the door he turned to face me. “What was the bet?”

I was afraid he was going to ask me that. I didn’t want to tell him. It seemed so cold now—so callous.

When I hesitated, his sharp voice reached for me across the distance between us.

“What was the bet, Z?”

I swallowed hard. Maybe I could make him understand. Maybe I could make this right. But looking across at him and seeing the hurt on his face and the pool of heartache in his eyes, I was pretty sure I would never be able do that. If I had a million years, I still wouldn’t be able to do that. I stepped closer to him but he stepped back, shaking his head.

“I told him I could bring you back. He didn’t think I could,” I said quickly. “He said he was going to let you go. I saw it as my chance to prove myself. To show him that I was good at what I do.”

His eyes closed again—squeezed shut, as if to ward off the pain of my words—and when he opened them again, he couldn’t look at me. His eyes were cast down and he stared at a spot on the ground.

“What did you stand to get out of this?” he asked, his voice broken.

“Jake—”

“Tell me!” he demanded.

“He would give me Purgatory.”

His eyes shot to mine. “The MMA fighter?”

I nodded, full of shame. I had used this beautiful man and his tragedy to gain a better position in my father’s business. At the time I hadn’t looked at it like that, I had simply seen the opportunity to show my father what I could do. I hadn’t taken the fact that Jake was a living, breathing—feeling—human being into consideration. I would never have done that if I had stopped to think about it long enough. But hindsight was a bitch and I couldn’t go back and change what I had done. I had gotten carried away, and in the process I had hurt one of the most amazing people I had ever met. The guilt was overwhelming.

“I’m so sorry.” And, dear God, I was. I would give anything—anything—to take the pain out of those beautiful eyes.

He glared at me, his eyes narrowed and sharp as he stepped toward me.

“Well, I’m the best in the world, so I guess that makes you good at what you do.” He looked at me with such disgust my insides twisted with pain. “Congratulations. Enjoy Purgatory. Because you just lost me.”

He turned to leave.

“Jake, no. Please don’t.” Fear turned to tears. I grabbed his arm but he shrugged me off, dragging his lip under his white teeth as he tried to regain control of his emotions.

“Tell me one thing—was fucking me a part of the plan to get me back on top?” he asked.

“What? No! How could—”

He cut me off and took angry steps toward me until I was backed up against the wall.

“Was making me fall in love with you a part of your plan?” His palms slapped the wall on either side of my head as he leaned in even closer, his big muscular arms caging me in. “Was ripping my heart out just a bonus?”

“No,” I breathed desperately. How could he think that? I had given him my heart. I was so in love with him I couldn’t remember what it felt like to not love him.

“I told you that you gave me a reason to breathe,” he agonized, his voice hoarse and full of pain. “That you were my everything. Do you get that? My everything. And now I find out it was all because of a bet.”

I swallowed hard. He was my everything. And I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

“You must’ve laughed all the way to the bank,” he scoffed, pushing back from the wall. 

“That’s not true.” I whispered. “I’m in love with you.”

For a moment his face softened and his eyes filled with desperate hope, like he wanted to believe me more than anything in the world. But then his anger was swift and fierce as it returned.

“I loved you,” he breathed angrily, emphasizing the word love in past tense, and my heart broke. “I wanted to give you everything and anything, because you gave me back my reason to live.  But it was all a lie. Nothing but a cold and calculated lie to prove a point to your father.” He pointed a finger at my chest. “Well, you can take your daddy issues and go. You’re fucking fired.”

He turned away from me and went to leave.

“You’re firing me?” I cried, stepping toward him.

He swung back and with his face only an inch away from me, he fumed, “And why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re upset about me firing you. Yet you barely batted an eyelid when I said I loved you.”

Panic tore through me. Without thinking I grabbed his face and smashed my mouth to his.

And for a moment he let me kiss him. His surprised moan rumbled between us as our tongues collided and our mouths moved urgently together. He reached for my face and cupped my jaw with his big hands, moaning desperately as he walked me back to the wall again. I mirrored his hold on me and my fingers pressed into his jaw, urgently kissing him, desperate to show him how I felt about him.

I broke away from him to look in his beautiful eyes and tell him exactly how I felt. That I was in love with him. That he meant more to me than anything in the world. But when I saw the hurt on his face I faltered and had no words.

Unfortunately, Jake did. And as pain replaced desire in his eyes he released his grip on me.

“I’m done.”

And without another word, he walked out.

*   *   *

Chapter Thirty-Four

Mackenzie

I tried getting a hold of him but he refused to take my calls. So I sent him text messages—which he ignored.

I wasn’t really the type to sit back and wait for things to happen, so I caught a cab to his house.

Filled with anticipation I knocked on his door and waited, my heart going crazy inside of me. When I heard the lock being released, blood rushed through my ears and my stomach swooped. But when the door opened it wasn’t Jake standing in front of me. It was Chloe. Puck bunny extraordinaire.

I was taken back.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, looking at me like I had killed her cat. With a shake of her blonde hair she closed the door a little, making sure I couldn’t see inside. “What do you want?”

“I need to speak to Jake.”

“He’s in the shower.” Her eyes flashed across at me. “You know how it is.”

My face went stiff while my heart beat wildly with jealousy.

Looking at Chloe—barely dressed and with I’ve-just-been-fucked hair—my hands fisted at my sides.

Yeah. I know how it is.

“I’ll be sure to let him know you stopped by,” she said with a smirk.

And then tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, the bitch closed the door in my face.

I took a step back, momentarily blinded by the heartache tearing me up on the inside. The idea of Jake with another woman blew my heart to smithereens and sent my emotions into overdrive.

I practically kicked in the front door. Thankfully the super-smart puck bunny hadn’t locked it but even so, I was pretty sure I would’ve found my way inside either way. With fierce determination I stormed through the house until I found Chloe and Jake in the lounge room.

Jake was on his phone and looked surprised . . . no, shocked . . . when he swung around and saw me.

I looked at him and then to Chloe.  Right. So he was going to fuck her tonight?

No fucking way.

He would have to fuck her over my dead body.

Jake’s beautiful eyes locked to mine and he mouthed, “What are you doing here?”

I looked at Chloe and then threw him a pointed look. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

He gave me a look that said “Whoa . . . don’t you dare jump to conclusions!” and then swung back to his phone call.

Chloe and I eyed each other like the enemy.  She thought she had the upper hand with her bleach-blonde hair and big boobs but I was here to tell her otherwise. Jake loved me and I was desperately in love with him. And I was here to make sure he was aware of that fact.

When she smirked at me, I snapped.

“Get out,” I yelled at her. “Get the fuck out before I throw you out!”

Her pumped-up lips dropped apart and she looked like I’d just told her they’d stopped selling hair bleach. Then her eyes narrowed and scowled at me.

“Go for it. I’d like to see you try. Jake invited me—you, on the other hand—”

I didn’t give her the chance to finish. Twenty-five years of play-fighting with Garrick had given me some killer moves and I had her arm behind her back in one swift move.

“Hey!” she protested, struggling as I forced her out of the room and toward the front entrance. “Get your fucking hands off me before I—”

“Before you what?” I snapped. “Poke me in the eye with your boobs? Get the fuck out.”

She tried to shrug me off but my adrenaline had given me superhuman strength.

“Who do you think you are?”

I pushed her out the front door.

“I’m his goddamn agent.”

It was the perfect Hollywood movie moment. Topped off by me slamming the door in her face.

Swinging around, I saw Jake standing at the end of the hallway, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open. He’d finished his phone call and was looking at me like I was a mixture of crazy and out of control.

“What the hell, Z?”

I strode over to him, armed with a pointed finger that I thrust into his chest.

“You really want to stick your dick in that?” I fumed.

“No. But I’m pretty sure Casanova was hoping to. You know, considering she was his date.”

As if on cue, the toilet flushed down the hallway and a few moments later, Casanova appeared behind Jake.

“Hi, Mackenzie.” He looked around for his date. “Hey, where’s Chloe gone?”

As the reality of the situation descended on me, I started to feel a little less sassy and a hell of a lot more stupid.

In my display of jealousy I had thrown Casanova’s date out the door.

“Um . . .” Sheepishly, I pointed over my shoulder and cringed. “I think she might be outside.”

I could feel Jake’s penetrating gaze but refused to look at him.

“Outside?” Casanova looked confused.

Still Jake said nothing but his gaze was red-hot on my scorching cheeks.

I said the first thing that popped into my head, “How about you pour us a drink and I’ll go and get her.”

“Oh, good, you’re coming to dinner with us?” Casanova asked cheerily—typically oblivious to what was really going on around him.

My eyes shot to Jake, who raised his eyebrows at me.

His expression was a mix of rampant disapproval and a smug interest to see how I was going to get myself out of this situation without looking like a complete ass.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I replied.

Jake rolled his eyes.

So, I scowled at him.

To which he walked off, following Casanova into the other room.

I stared at the front door for a moment, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling deeply before I opened it.

Chloe stood on the top step, glowering. Her eyes immediately narrowed as I feebly attempted to laugh the whole thing off.

“So, apparently I was a bit hasty in throwing you out the front door.” Was my serious attempt at an apology.

Chloe thrust her hands to her hips. “Oh, you think?”

I didn’t have to try too hard at looking apologetic, because deep down I really was sorry. Embarrassingly sorry.

“I might have overreacted. And in hindsight I shouldn’t have done that,” I said with genuine regret.

Chloe relaxed a little and folded her arms across her perfect boobs. “Sorry?”

I nodded. “Incredibly.”

“Jealous?”

“Slightly.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “In love?”

I sighed. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

A tiny smile tugged at her lips, and then she smiled brightly. “Forgiven.”

I exhaled with relief. “Thank you.”

As she stepped past me, she grabbed me by the hand. “Come on. Let’s go get you your hockey player.”

She dragged me behind her and I followed unconvincingly. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go get me a hockey player . . . like it’s that easy.”

Chloe swung around. “Oh, honey, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s how to get a hockey player.”

She winked. And I knew I was in good hands.

*   *   *

Jake

Dinner was agony.

My heart ached. Having Mackenzie sit so close to me was torture. Pure fucking torture. And her smell. I didn’t know what perfume she wore, only that it made me want to bury my face into the exquisitely soft spot between her jaw and throat and inhale it right off her skin.

So I ordered my bourbons in rapid succession. I needed to dull my senses. My need. My pathetic, teenage heart. Only I hadn’t had a drink since joining the Fury and embarking on a campaign to get them to the championships, so the hits of alcohol went straight to my head.

“So, Mackenzie, what’s it like being a sports agent?” Casanova asked, oblivious to the nightmare taking place around me.

“It’s interesting, to say the least.”  She smiled and the dimples that creased the spot on either side of her beautiful mouth made my chest tighten. So, I sought comfort in the fact that—judging by the look on her face—Mackenzie was in her own world of awkward right now.

“Apart from Sasquatch here, who else have you represented?” Casanova asked.

I watched her. Every inch of me desperate to touch her just one more time.

“Before Jake, there was Ethan Valentine—”

“The quarterback? Man, that dude has a throwing arm!” Casanova fan-girled.

“I also manage Daisy Jones,” Mackenzie said.

Casanova looked even further impressed. “The pop princess? Boy, I bet she’s a handful.”

“Enough with the business talk,” Chloe interrupted, leaning forward on the table so her arms pushed up her ample boobs. “Mackenzie, is it true that you and Jake got snowed in at his fishing cabin in Canada?”

My eyes shot to Chloe. What the hell? What sort of out-of-the-blue, random question was that?

I glanced at Mackenzie, not wanting to make eye contact but at the same time wanting to see her reaction. She simply smiled softly and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was genuine regret written all over her beautiful face.

I threw back my fourth bourbon.

Regret? Nah. She was too damn calculated for that.

“Yes.” Mackenzie’s voice was gentle. And then she turned her head slightly and her eyes found mine. “For four days.”

I looked away and signaled for another drink.

“Wow. Four days is a long time to be stuck with someone in such a small space. Whatever did you two do to pass the time?” Chloe asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Again, my eyes shot to her. What the hell was she up to?

Mackenzie cleared her throat uncomfortably and I couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

“It’s amazing how well you get to know someone, that’s for sure,” Mackenzie said. If she looked at me I didn’t know because I refused to look at her. “You can’t help but to get to know them in such an intimate environment.”

I started to speak before I could stop myself. “Oh, I don’t know . . . some people are pretty good at hiding who they really are . . . regardless of how intimate they are.”

She gave me a black look, which I matched with my own dark look.

“So what else did you do?” Chloe asked with gleaming eyes. I wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear or what she was doing but if she thought she was going to get something out of me then she was wrong. I was keeping quiet.

Well, that was the plan. But then Mackenzie went and brought up that damn Dire Straits song. 

“There was no TV. No music,” she paused and then added softly, “well, except that one CD single of Dire Straits, Romeo and Juliet.”

“Oooh, I love that song,” Chloe cooed. “It’s so romantic.”

I couldn’t help myself and scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Jake and I differ on that,” Mackenzie said quietly. She was trying to soften the fact that I was being an ass.

I slung back the rest of my drink.

“There’s nothing romantic about one-sided love,” I snapped, crunching on the ice in the bottom of my now drained bourbon glass. I was determined not to look at her but as soon as I started talking I couldn’t help it. My eyes went straight to hers. “Especially when the person who is in love is being blatantly used by the person he’s in love with.” I didn’t mean to make it so personal but the liquor swirling in my veins had weakened the wall keeping my anger and hurt at bay. And once I started, I had a hard time stopping. “I mean, she said she loved him. But it was only because she was using him.”

“That’s not true!” Mackenzie exclaimed, almost launching out of her seat, much to Chloe and Casanova’s surprise. Realizing her over-the-top response she sat back and said calmly, “Maybe if Romeo hadn’t been so worried about something that happened in the past—”

“In the past,” I scoffed. I know I said I didn’t want to look at her but I was too damn deep into this argument to back down. I’d be damned if I was going to let her win this one. So I met her eyes and held them. “It was hardly the past.”

“Yes, it was. And if Romeo could’ve just stopped feeling sorry for himself for five damn minutes and listen to her—”

“She broke his heart!” I erupted, surprising the hell out of Casanova and Chloe, not to mention a table of diners nearby. I took a deep breath and lowered my voice, speaking quickly. “She used him. She sold him out.”

Mackenzie spoke just as quick. “Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out so bad if Romeo had given the woman he loved a little more credit.” Her eyes were dark, her face stiff with emotion. “That perhaps everything she did, she did for him.”

I couldn’t help but scoff again. “Don’t kid yourself. Juliet was only ever looking out for Juliet.”

“Maybe Romeo didn’t really love her. I mean, he said he did but when it came time to trust her he took it all the wrong way and threw a tantrum.”

She thought this was a tantrum? I was heartbroken! I glared at her, hating that I missed her so much, hating that I would give anything to be kissing and loving her right now. I hated how much this hurt.

“Well, I guess Romeo never really knew Juliet after all,” I said.

“No, he just didn’t give her a chance.”

“Wow, you guys have really given this some serious consideration,” Casanova chimed in.

Both Mackenzie and I looked at him. He didn’t have a clue what was going on but based on the look of discomfort on Chloe’s face she had worked it out. She nervously played with her earring as she said, “Anyone interested in ordering dessert?”

Mackenzie threw her napkin onto the table and stood up. “I think I should leave.”

“No.” I stood up and also threw my napkin onto the table. “I’ll leave.”

“Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?” Mackenzie snapped, no longer able to keep her anger in check. “One more thing to add to your pity party for one.”

“Well, one is the safest number, after all. Less people to betray you that way.”

“I never betrayed you. I was doing my job.”

“Did your job involve making me fall in love with you?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

My restraint was gone and I rushed forward with my words. “You came after me with everything you had, Mackenzie. You had something to prove to your father and you weren’t going to let anything or anyone’s feelings get in your way.”

When a waiter walked past with a tray of drinks I grabbed one and slung it back. It was straight scotch and it burned a deep path to my belly. It also fueled my malevolence.

“You did whatever it took to get me back on the ice,” I continued, slamming the empty glass onto the table. Then like a real dick I leaned in and added quietly, “In and out of bed.”

Anger flared in Mackenzie’s eyes. But I didn’t give her a chance to respond. I’d already done enough damage. I’d already sank as low as I could get and I hated myself for it.

So I threw a wad of hundreds onto the table and stormed out to find another bar.

Unfortunately, Mackenzie decided to follow me. She caught up with me out on the street.

 “You don’t get to call me a whore and then walk away.”  She swung me around to face her. And then she shoved me in the chest so hard it nearly sent me on my ass. But it was well deserved. I had insinuated that she’d whored herself to get me skating again, and I’d made a spectacle of myself. All because I was a drunk ass. A drunk, brokenhearted ass.

Anger swept through me. Anger at myself for being the cruel and loathing asshole I was. Anger at Mackenzie for breaking down the walls and making me love her with all of my heart. Anger at the goddamn world. Anger at being alone because in one fell swoop my family was taken from me. Anger at Tyler dying and the fact that it was my skate that killed him.

Anger at the fact that I was so damn in love with this woman I didn’t have a clue of what to do.

I hailed a cab.

I needed to get home before I did anything else stupid.

*   *   *

Chapter Thirty-Five

Mackenzie

Jake was drunk.

Falling down drunk.

I couldn’t walk away from him when he was in such a bad state. So ignoring his protests I followed him into the taxi and then endured a deafening twenty-minute silence back to his apartment.

Once inside, I helped him into his bedroom, barely capable of holding him up. We stumbled through the door and fell against the wall. For a brief moment, Jake’s eyes unglazed and he looked down at me, cupping my face in his big hands. His forehead fell to mine and he squeezed his eyes shut, the heat of him engulfing me.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispered desperately.

“I’m in love with you, too,” I whispered back, feeling a tiny flicker of hope in my chest.

I was hoping this was the start of him forgiving me.

“But you’ve broken me,” he moaned.

And just like that the flicker was gone.

His words killed me and reminded me of what I’d done to him. He would never forgive me for what I had done. I could hear it in his voice and my heart twisted with pain. I needed to get him into bed, roll him on his side and then leave.

He needed to sleep it off and I needed to get the hell away from him so I could drown in my own guilt.

Using all my strength I dragged him over to the bed but crumbled under the six-foot-seven wall of muscle that was Jake Pennington, and we fell to the bed. Jake was a dead weight on top of me.

Of course this was happening.

Feeling his weight on me was a sudden turn on. One leg was trapped under him while the other fell to the side, putting him against the spot that suddenly ached for him. As if he realized, he looked up, his lips parting and his eyes filling with a sudden need.

“Oh, Z . . .” he moaned, grabbing my face and pressing his lips hard against mine. His mouth was insistent, opening my lips and thrusting his tongue in. It stole my breath from me and set every cell in my body on fire with a need for more. His hips pressed down, giving me no choice but to feel what our kissing was doing to him.

He was drunk and he hated me and I knew it was wrong. But my body didn’t know any better and it wanted him. It wanted him to peel my clothes from my body and fill me with his cock. It wanted his weight on me, heavy and solid, sliding against me as he embedded himself deep into me. It wanted the comfort and reassurance of the love making that had once been all and everything to me.

Oh, God, I missed him.

Jake inhaled thickly, shifting so he could press all the good bits of him against all of the good bits of me, and the throb between my thighs far outweighed the argument in my head. I wanted our clothes gone but I knew it would be wrong, so I settled for pretending I could stop this at any time and kept kissing him, his moans fueling my fire.

But as quickly as he started kissing me, he stopped and rose up on his palms like he was doing a push up above me, and fixed his glazed eyes to mine. Bicep muscles bulged on either side of my head and his chest was a thick wall of muscle before my eyes.

“I fucking loved you,” he said with an edge to his voice that dampened every ember of desire in my body. “Fucking. Loved. You.”

I could only stare at him as his drunk eyes roamed my face.

“But it was nothing but a bet . . .” he whispered, frowning and looking confused. “How could it only be a bet?  I don’t . . . I don’t understand . . .”

I took his chin in my hand. “What I feel for you has nothing to do with any bet. Do you understand me?”

He exhaled deeply, looking slightly weakened by my words. He wanted to believe me but he was at war with himself over it.

Clumsily, he climbed off me and sat at the end of the bed. He shoved his hands through his hair and then dropped his elbows to his knees. I waited a moment and then slid over to sit next to him, not touching him but aching to do so. I wanted to wrap him in my arms and soothe the pain from his body. I wanted to somehow transport us back in time to the cabin when it was only us, when I hadn’t hurt him and he had felt inspired and motivated by me—not hurt and broken by me like he did now.

“What have you done to me?” he whispered, running his hand through his hair. The pain in his voice stole the air from my lungs and sat like a weight on my chest.

I was so sorry. So very, very sorry.

“And I dreamed your dream for you, and now your dream is real . . . how can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals?” he sang softly.

“Please don’t,” I whispered. I couldn’t bear to hear him sing our song like that.

“Why not?” he spoke quietly, but his voice was cold. Ice cold. “Because isn’t that exactly how it is, Mackenzie? Wasn’t I just one of your deals?”

His tormented eyes found mine and I could see his pain etched firmly in the sharp contours of his face.

“That’s not true.” My own voice was meek. Regretful. Full of shame. Threatening to break beneath a heavy load of remorse.

He looked away. “You need to go.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to, Jake. Please let me stay with you. I need to make this right.”

He shook his head and drew in a deep breath as he squeezed his eyes closed, waited and then opened them again.

He turned his head and in a moment of clarity his eyes found mine. “We’re done.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Don’t say that.”

He looked away. “Goodbye, Mackenzie.”

The way he said it. The tone. The finality. It told me what I dreaded the most. That when he said goodbye, he truly meant it.

I stood up.

And not bothering to hide my tears, I walked away.

Two days later, the Fury lost game four to the Ice Cats, three to two.

*  *   *

The day after the Fury lost to the Ice Cats, I flew to LA to have lunch with Darryl Stanton Williams.

AKA Purgatory.

AKA a giant hulk of a man.

AKA a giant hulk of a man who happened to be a really nice guy.

I was surprised.

We sat in the late morning sunlight at the Garden Bar & Restaurant in downtown LA. He wore a handsome suit custom-made to accommodate his massive size, Paul Evans Italian leather shoes, and gold on almost every finger. In the ring he was all bravado and show biz, but outside of the ring he was a gentle giant with impeccable manners and an obvious respect for women. He was nothing but a gentleman to me.

It made what I was going to say all the more difficult because I knew I would have enjoyed working with him.

But I wouldn’t be.

“I’m sorry, Darryl. I know my father said I would be handling your contract but I won’t be.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I’m committed elsewhere.” I cleared my throat. “It was meant to be a short-term thing but it turned into something a little more long-term.”

He nodded and sunlight gleaned on his aviator sunglasses.

“Well, that’s a shame, Mackenzie,” he said, his voice deep and masculine. “I was really looking forward to working with you. I’ve heard good things. And seeing what you did for Jake Pennington . . . man, who wouldn’t want to work with you? You’ve made the whole sporting community stand up and take notice. I could really use someone like you in my corner.”

Inwardly, I sighed at the mention of Jake. But then, I always sighed when I thought about Jake. It was the only way I could push back the heartache.

“I appreciate you saying that, Darryl,” I said, taking a sip from a tall, frosted glass. It was filled with sparkling water and chopped pieces of orange, cucumber and mint. “I hope this doesn’t reflect badly on my father’s agency.”

He shook his head. “Nah. Of course not. I’ve been dying to have your old man represent me for as long as I can remember.”

I relaxed. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “But you could do me one favor.”

I smiled and nodded. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

Less than five hours later I sat in the back of a limo, dressed to the nines in a Valentino floor-length dress and clasping an Alexander McQueen lace butterfly clutch as we pulled up outside the lit-up LA Live complex.

We were at the ESPYs.

And I was Purgatory’s date.

*     *     *

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jake

For the fiftieth time in five minutes I struggled with my tie in the hallway mirror. Why the fuck hadn’t I decided on the bowtie instead?

Rapidly losing my patience I ripped it loose and pulled it over my head to try again, just as the doorbell rang.  We were at Johnny Pepper’s mansion in Calabasas, just outside of Los Angeles. We were in town for the ESPYs . . . Johnny had flown Casanova, Cowboy, and myself out to California to represent the Fury at the glittering sporting event.

Even though red carpet events weren’t my thing, I was desperate for the distraction from my pre-game five nerves. We had lost game four and I blamed myself because I had been so damn distracted.

Taking my fifty-first shot at getting my tie to look halfway decent, I opened the door and came face to face with a stunning woman standing on the doorstep. Dressed in a tight pink and aqua dress, glittery heels and big, bouncy, blonde hair, she had Cowboy written all over her.

“Well, hi there, handsome,” she drawled. Her smile was big, and cute, and she had the whitest teeth I’d ever seen in my life. She was a few years older than Cowboy’s usual dates, probably somewhere in her early forties, although she was so well put together it was hard to tell. She was also sexy as hell, and clearly knew it. 

“Let me guess, you’re here to see Cowboy?” I asked.

She looked at me seductively. “I sure am, honey.”

“I’m Jake.” I offered her my hand, which she took. “Nice to meet you.”

“Well, now. The pleasure, it seems, is all mine,” she replied, her voice thick with a southern drawl and as smooth as warm whiskey. “I’m Lucile.”

“Lucile, that’s a pretty name.”

Lucile smiled that big Texas smile of hers. “Why thank you, honey. Now are you going to let me inside? Or you planning on leaving a girl out here on the doorstep all night?” She winked and there was so much fake eyelash happening I swear I could feel it flap like a fan.

“Of course.” I moved and opened the door wider so she could step inside. “I don’t suppose you know how to tie a tie?”

“Oh, honey, if there’s one thing I know my way around it’s a man’s tie.”

Okay, this woman had so much sex going on I felt dirty just standing next to her.

“Great. I’m kind of having a hard time with this one.” I pointed to the limp tie around my neck. Because apparently she wouldn’t have worked that out herself. Inwardly, I grimaced because this woman was like a sexual driveby and I really didn’t know what to do or how to act around her.

“Oooh, well now.” She winked and cocked an eyebrow at me seductively. “One tie, one hard time. Sounds like a perfect evening to me.”

I swallowed hard and then froze. Was Cowboy’s date coming onto me?

“Mom! Are you hitting on my teammate?” I heard Cowboy yell from his bedroom down the hallway.

Wait. What?

“Oh, relax, Bartholomew,” Lucile called back to him calmly, stepping toward me and taking me by the tie. As she wrapped and tugged at it she winked at me. “My boy is so touchy sometimes.”

In under a minute my tie was perfect. Lucile patted me on the shoulders and took a step back to look at her handiwork.

“There. Perfect.” She winked again, and her smile was warm and affectionate. 

“Wow, Mom. You look sensational!” Cowboy swooped in and gave his mom a peck on her smooth cheek.

“Well, don’t you look handsome,” she replied proudly to her son, then turning to me added, “My son is such a good boy.”

Cowboy looked almost coy around his mom.

“Should we get a drink before the car arrives?” he asked.

“Good idea,” I agreed, and followed them into the kitchen.

Casanova had his head buried in a newspaper at the kitchen counter and looked up when we walked in.  His eyes rolled over Lucile in appreciation as she and Cowboy walked past him to the bar.

“Who’s that?” he mouthed to me.

“Cowboy’s mom,” I mouthed back.

Casanova’s mouth dropped open. “For real?”

I nodded, just as Lucile looked around and smiled.

“Don’t tell me you two handsome boys are dateless tonight?”

Casanova looked at his watch and stood up. “Nope. In fact, I’m on my way to pick Chloe up from the hotel.” 

Lucile turned to me. “What about you, handsome?”

“My date is on her way.”

“You’re not picking your lady up?” Lucile sounded surprised.

“She kind of insisted on picking me up,” I replied.

“Jake’s date is Ana Karena, current womens’ WWF champion,” Cowboy explained to his mom as he handed her a glass of champagne. “And if two-hundred pounds of pure muscle says she’s picking you up, then she is picking you up. No argument.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. I excused myself to answer it and found Ana Karena standing on the doorstep.

And she looked incredible. “Wow!”

“Hey there,” she grinned and stepped inside.

Ana Karena was a stunner. Tanned. Strong. And with bright blue eyes. She was at the peak of her career and totally committed to her sport. I would lay money on it that she had been at the gym as late as an hour ago.

“Sorry I’m a bit late,” she said. “I was at the gym and didn’t realize the time.”

I kissed her cheek. “You’re not late.”

Her eyes rolled over me appreciatively. “You know, you don’t scrub up too bad.”

I offered her my arm. “And you look sensational.”

She nodded. “I know.”

This year, the ESPYs were being held at the LA Live complex in downtown Los Angeles, which was a little under an hour’s drive away. We took a limousine, courtesy of Johnny Pepper, which gave Ana and I the perfect opportunity to catch up.

Ana’s girlfriend, Krystal, was an archaeologist and currently occupied at a dig in Spain. Ana filled me in on their plans to build a holiday villa in the Mediterranean, while I filled her in on Mackenzie. Which kind of took up the entire drive from Calabasas into downtown LA.

The sun had set by the time we had arrived and as we approached LA Live the dazzle of lights and flashing cameras lit up the darkness. Reporters lined the red carpet leading into the mammoth entertainment complex, and as soon as Ana and I exited the limousine, they swooped in.

We paused to do the obligatory poses—ignoring the questions being fired at us—before moving inside.

Once inside, there was more mingling.

“Look, there’s Brianna Bronco,” Ana said, leaning into me as she pointed out her rival in a bright yellow slinky dress. “Goddamn, what is that girl wearing?”

“Z would look amazing in something like that,” I whispered back, without thinking. “Did I mention how tiny she is?”

“Yes, you did,” Ana replied flatly.

“Except, she wouldn’t wear yellow. Hell, I think she is afraid of the color yellow. Did I tell you how she has all these weird-ass phobias?”

“Yes, you did.”

“See that woman over there . . . the one in the midnight blue thingie—”

“That’s a pantsuit, Jake.”

“Yes, that. Well, she kind of looks like Mackenzie. Except Z has longer hair. And more blonde. And she has these great dimples. And much more—”

When I started to use the universal hand gesture to signal a big rack, Ana interrupted me. “Shall we go inside?”

An usher in formal attire greeted us and showed us to our seats. We were in the third row, in between an Olympic swimmer whose name escaped me, and wouldn’t you know it, Ethan Valentine.

“Z is Ethan’s agent,” I whispered to Ana while nodding toward the burly NFL player sitting next to her.

“Of course she is,” Ana muttered, looking ahead.

I sat back in my chair. The room was filling up and there was an energetic chatter in the air. But conversation between Ana and I seemed to have stalled.

“You know, when we were snowed in, Z had this funny—”

“Oh, my Lord, Jake! Stop. Just . . . stop. Before I grab you in a headlock and throw you down.”

What the fuck?

I looked at her, surprised.

“Don’t look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Mackenzie this, Mackenzie that. And don’t get me started on all the Z nonsense you went on about during the car ride here.” She wacked me over the head with her clutch but then her face softened and she sighed. “Why are you here, Jake? Go to her. Forgive her. Tell her you love her and then put this all behind you.” She smiled softly. Well, as softly as a six-foot, two-hundred-pound WWF diva could. “It’s the only way you are going to be happy again.”

“Leave? I’m not going to leave you here by your—”

“Jake, I am begging you . . . go and find her. Make it right. You will never be happy until you sort this clusterfuck out.”

She was right, of course. And now that I realized it, finding Mackenzie and telling her how much I loved her seemed like the most important thing in the entire fucking world.

I quickly kissed Ana on the cheek. “You’re the best. Are you sure you don’t mind me taking off?”

She shooed me away. “Go. Before I kick your ass.”

I kissed her again. “Krystal’s a lucky gal.”

She grinned. “Why are you still here?”

“Going.”

“Good.”

I worked my way through the crowd toward the doors leading out to the foyer when I ran straight into Casanova.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” he asked.

Rushed and breathless, I barely slowed down to answer my teammate. “I have to find Mackenzie.”

Casanova grinned. “Well, you won’t have to go far, she’s right over there.”

As if the stars had aligned in that one perfect moment on our doomed relationship, there she was…Mackenzie, the woman I was in love with, walking into the room on the arm of another man.  And when I say man, I mean, Purgatory was the epitome of masculinity. The Greek god of supreme male hotness. The Adonis of Sports.

Yeah, sure, I was taller (and, let’s face it, waaaaaay better looking) but this guy was pure testosterone. His muscles had muscles. His testosterone had testosterone. Hell, his dick probably had its own moon.

I was rooted to the spot as I watched them stop for photographs. Mackenzie stepped closer to him and looped her arm through his, that dimpled smile of hers deep on her beautiful face.

Every hair on my body bristled at the sight of them. And before I realized it, my hands had fisted into balls at my side. Clenching my teeth, my eyes bounced back and forth between Purgatory and the woman who was making me insane. Jealousy seared a path through me, cutting me deep and blackening my mind.

Every ounce of me filled with pain. Because in that moment it all became very clear. She had moved on from me.

She had gotten what she wanted.

She had Purgatory.

Unable to stand it, I started to walk before I could stop myself, and within five large strides I was standing in front of them. Mackenzie’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Jake,” she whispered.

Purgatory looked momentarily perplexed until he realized who I was, then he relaxed and smiled at me but I ignored him. My eyes stayed fixed on Mackenzie.

 “It looks like you got what you want,” I said, failing to control the growl from my voice.

A small hiss of air escaped Mackenzie’s glossy lips.  “It’s not what you think.”

I shook my head. “That’s the point, Mackenzie. It never was.”

And with that I walked away.

I was done.

In two days we were due to face the Ice Cats in game five, and more than ever I had to keep my head in the game. I couldn’t let us suffer another loss. I owed it to the team to give them my full attention and not be preoccupied by Mackenzie or the stupid bet.

That meant I had to stay away from her.

That meant we were finished.

This time for real.

*  *   *

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Mackenzie

Two days later, the Fury lost game five and Jake was still incommunicado. 

To escape my heartache, I got the hell out of Dodge.

I flew to my mom’s desert home in Joshua Tree, California, desperate for some one-on-one time.

While my dad was all about sharp suits and snappy suspenders, my mom was all about free love and nature. Her hacienda-styled home was surrounded by desert and palm trees. Wind chimes and crystals hung from branches and roof rafters, and the air was warm with the sweet smell of herbs. Everywhere you looked there were terracotta pots filled with some kind of herb or spice that my mom would pick at twilight and use in her popular remedies.

She owned an essential oil and flower water business, which was popular throughout the country. It wasn’t a huge production but it allowed her to spend her days doing what she loved the most: tending to her garden and soaking up the glorious, southern California sunshine.

Which was exactly where I found her when I turned up unannounced. She was outside by the pool, cutting lavender from a large plant in a brightly decorated terracotta pot. She was also naked.

No. She wasn’t naked.

She was wearing a Stetson.

“Mom,” I called to her from the patio.

She swung around at the sound of my voice and a big grin spread across her beautiful face when she saw me. “Daughter!”

You would think it would be awkward seeing my mom naked, right?

Wrong.

Did I mention that my mom was all for the free love, yada, yada, yada? I was raised by this free spirit, so seeing her naked and standing in her garden looking like Titania from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, kind of wasn’t a shocker for me.

Besides, from where I stood, her long blonde hair covered her ample boobs, while a well-placed calendula plant hid everything from the waist down.

“What a wonderful surprise!” She put down her garden shears and grabbed a long cotton shirt off a nearby gardening table, slipping it on as she came toward me.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting all shy on me?” I teased as she buttoned up her shirt.

“Pure precaution, my darling. I’m not sure your hot hockey player is ready for all of this.” She winked as she swept a hand down the length of her slim figure.

At the mention of my hot hockey player my heart sank like a stone in water. I’d forgotten the promise I had made to bring Jake out to meet her.

But if my mom noticed my smile slip then she didn’t let on. When she reached me she pulled me into a big cuddle. “It’s so good to see you, my sweet girl.”

I held her a little tighter and for a little longer than I had intended, and it felt good to feel her familiar, comforting arms around me. When she pulled back, wise sparkling eyes zeroed in on mine.

“Is everything okay?” she asked gently. Knowingly. Which didn’t surprise me, because my mom was instinctual and knew things. “Your hot hockey player isn’t with you, is he?”

Nine words. One question. And I fell apart like a brick house on sand. Tears erupted from my eyes like a rogue irrigation system. My face crumpled. My mouth turned down and everything collapsed into one hell of an ugly cry. I threw my arms around my mom’s neck and sobbed into her warm shoulder.

Then came the babbling. I tried to explain about the bet and how Jake had found out and wouldn’t take my calls, but I was crying so hard I was quite inaudible. Finally, when I decided to come up for air my mom kissed me on the top of the head.

Holding me at arm’s length she smiled. “Come on. Let’s drink mojitos and you can tell me all about it.”

*  *   *

My mom’s mojitos rocked.

They were also lethal. After a jug of them I was able to stop blubbering like a pre-teen and calmly tell my mom what happened because if I was honest, I was half-way to inebriation. Mom listened patiently, her wise, blue eyes glittering in the dying desert light as she absorbed all the details about Jake and our breakup.

Somewhere inside the house the Small Faces sang about Itchycoo Park, and I was momentarily transported back to the summer I had spent here following my parents divorce when I was twelve. Back to when life was much easier. Back to when I wasn’t a hockey player hurting monster.

“He’s hurt and he’s angry,” Mom said, taking a sip of her mojito. “He just needs time to get it right in his head first.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t see the look on his face. He was gutted.”

“When he heard about the bet, or when he saw you with Purgatory?”

“Both.” My stomach flared with pain when I recalled running into him at the ESPYs. His face. His eyes. They were filled with hurt.

“Why don’t you try ringing him?” Mom suggested.

“I tried. But he doesn’t want to talk to me,” I sighed and rested my head against the back of the chair. Dusk had settled into twilight and the first stars were out. “And why would he? I’m a horrible person.”

Mom gave me a pointed look. “Is it lonely there at that pity party for one?”

Clearly, my mom didn’t support my self-pity.

“Aren’t you supposed to soothe me?” I asked. “And feed me ice cream, and tell me everything is going to be okay?”

She waved off my suggestion. “I prefer mojitos and the truth. Both are equally effective.”

I poured the last drop of mojito mix into my glass. “Well, the truth is that I am a horrible person.”

Mom stood up. “No. The truth is you need to speak to him. Why not try again?” She gave me a mystical look, her eyes glittering at me in the dying light. She raised her arms and glanced around her. “You’re in the desert now, honey. Magic happens here.”

She picked up the empty mojito jug and winked at me before disappearing inside.

I sucked in a deep breath and held it there for a moment, then slowly released it, feeling my muscles unwind and relax.

It’s hard to explain, but there really is something magical about the desert at dusk. Especially at Joshua Tree.

I toyed with my cell phone in my hand. I was desperate to hear Jake’s voice but the chances of him answering were next to nothing. So far he hadn’t picked up a single one of the calls I’d made since the ESPYs. What was the point in trying again?

Yet something in the desert air was urging me to ring.

I sighed and drained the last of my mojito. What did I have to lose? I quickly found his number and hit the call button.

My heart lurched when he picked up.

“Hey, Z.”

And then it broke all over again when I heard that beautiful deep voice of his and his use of my nickname.

“Hey,” I replied gently, trying to hold back a sudden well of tears. Pain swelled like a tsunami of emotion in my chest.

He sounded so close, like he was right next to me, and I wished he was just so I could wrap my arms around him and breathe him in. I bit back the cold ache that had suddenly formed in the back of my throat.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect you to answer,” I said truthfully, scurrying my brain for something to say. There was so much to say yet now that I had the chance, I couldn’t remember a single thing. “How are you?”

There was a pause, and then, “I’m good. I’m just taking it easy before the game on Wednesday. How are you?”

Heartache swirled through me. It was so good to hear his voice.

“I miss you.” My voice broke when I said it, and I had to swallow deeply and look at the twilight sky to stop the tears from spilling down my cheek.

His voice was husky as he said, “I miss you, too.”

Hearing him say those words was the final straw and I failed to bite back the sob I’d been holding back since he’d answered his phone.

“I wanted to explain to you about Purgatory.”

He was quiet for a moment before he said, “You don’t need to explain anything to me, Z, it’s none of my—”

“I was there as a favor, Jake.” I interrupted him. “Purgatory’s date came down with the stomach flu at the last minute and he needed someone to escort.”

There was a pause on the other end. And for a moment I wondered if Jake had heard me or not.

“So you signed him?” he finally asked, his voice even.

Even though he couldn’t see me I shook my head. “Garrick will be handling his contract.”

More silence and I imagined Jake nodding. But I didn’t know what he thought because he didn’t say anything more about it.

So I broke the silence. “I really want to see you.”

Another pause before he finally said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Z.  I want to stay focused on the playoffs,” he added, his voice deep and husky. “I really need to keep my head in the game. We lost game four and five.”

“I know,” I whispered.

I had watched. Jake’s game had been off. He was clearly preoccupied and I blamed myself.

I struggled with a new round of tears. “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we through?”

There was a long, torturous moment before he answered.

“I’m really grateful to you, Z. I’m where I am because of you. And for whatever reason you did it, you believed in me enough to get me this far. I will always be grateful for that. But something broke. And I’ve had too many things break in my life.” I heard him sigh and just the sound of his breath leaving his body sent my stomach into a flutter.  “We’ll talk after the playoffs, okay?”

“Okay,” I barely managed the word because my throat was so tight. I hadn’t thought that my heart could break anymore but I’d been wrong. Hearing him say goodbye and then hang up in my ear, sent an all-too-familiar heartache washing over me.

“How did it go?” My mom asked from the doorway.

I shook my head because I couldn’t find the words and like the teenager I had morphed into, I started crying again.

Mom wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “Here,” she pulled a small vial of liquid out of her shirt pocket. “This is my latest batch of Unbreak My Heart.”

Mom’s flower essences were legendary.

But I shook my head. “Thanks, Mom. But I think I’m going to need something a little stronger than that to put me back together again.”

She pulled out a perfectly rolled joint from her other shirt pocket. “Come on. Let’s get baked and listen to what the desert has to tell us. No point moping about something you have no control over tonight.”

Then turning up the music, she lit the joint with a candle.

*  *   *

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Jake

I hung up and threw my cell phone onto the counter. Leaning forward I rested my head in my hands and waited for the pain to pass. But it didn’t. Because I missed her.

When my phone had rung, I’d seen her name appear on the screen and had answered in a moment of weakness.

I was desperate to hear her voice. But like a well-sharpened harpoon it had augured another giant hole in my heart.

Jesus Christ. I had to keep my head in the game. I couldn’t afford any distractions. The team were counting on me.

“You alright, buddy?” Cowboy asked, walking into the kitchen and heading straight for the refrigerator. He pulled out a box of leftover to-go food and sniffed it.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” said Casanova from behind me.

They were both dressed in sweats and based on the way Cowboy shoveled leftover Chinese noodles into his mouth, I guess they’d both been at the gym.

They were both staying with me while the house they shared was being fumigated.

“Just the usual.” I sighed and tried to rub out a knot in my left shoulder blade. “How was gym?”

“Man, it was packed with babes,” Cowboy gushed with a mouthful of noodles. “You’re missing out, buddy. Told you, you should’ve come. Nothing like a training session to smooth out the pain of a broken heart.” He swallowed deeply. “Except sex. Now that is better. Waaaaay better.”

“Thanks. I’ll take that under advisement.”

Casanova dropped down next to me and opened a bottle of water. “Hey, did you know Candy from the Well-being Team has left? I went to make an appointment with her for today. But she’s gone. Pregnant.” He shook his head. “And here I was thinking we’d get married once my career was over.”

The Well-being Team consisted of a physical therapist, dietician, counselor and housekeeper for both the major and minor teams. Candy was our physical therapist.

And Casanova had a crush on her because of her hands.

“Damn, that girl was good at her job,” Cowboy said. I watched as he tipped the container upside down and then scooped the remaining contents into his mouth.

“Tell me about it. I swear to God her hands were like magic. Once, I had such a knotted hamstring I didn’t think I’d be able to skate for a week. Candy puts her hands on me and boom, I’m on the ice in twenty minutes.” Casanova shook his head and took a sip of his water.  “Damn, I wanted to marry that woman.”

Noticing me rub my shoulder blade again he said, “Looks like you could use a massage.”

“Since Tex got me against the boards yesterday my shoulder has been crying like a baby,” I replied, rubbing it again. I’d done what I could to get the knot out. Stretched it. Taken a hot shower. Laden it down with ice packs. But nothing had worked. I needed to get it sorted between now and Wednesday’s game.

Cowboy clicked his fingers. “I met a guy the other day—”

Casanova leaned closer to me. “You know, nothing good ever starts with Cowboy saying ‘I met a guy the other day’.”

Cowboy flicked him the bird. “You’re so fucking funny, Cas. Seriously. But do you want to hear my story or not, motherfucker?”

“Please, by all means, keep going.”

“So I met this guy the other day. He owns a mobile massage therapy company. Sends massage girls to you. How good is that? I can’t believe I haven’t heard of this before now.”

Casanova and I looked at each other, barely holding back our laughter.

“Cowboy, they’re called hookers and somebody did think about it, way before your friend did.”

“They’re not hookers!” Cowboy looked surprised that we would even think it. “They’re totally legit.”

“Sure. And this friend of yours, he’s totally legit, too?” Casanova asked.

Cowboy grinned. “A total stand-up guy.”

Casanova and I shared a very dubious look, while Cowboy stretched his arms above his head and yawned.

“Well, do you guys want me to organize this massage or not?” he asked, dropping his arms to rub his chest.

As I shifted on the stool my shoulder twinged and a bolt of pain shot through me. Yeah. It needed some TLC, and a massage might just be the answer.

I looked at Casanova. “What do you think?”

“Can’t hurt.” He shrugged.

I shot Cowboy a look. “Fine. Make your call. But if they turn out to be six-foot-two, hairy, lady boys I’m throat punching you.”

Cowboy threw his hands up. “Like I said, dude, it’s a totally legit business.”

I was a little nervous about who was going to turn up. But when the doorbell rang and three very professional and normal looking women turned up, I had to admit I relaxed a little. Dressed in conservative uniforms and looking every inch like the professional sports massage therapists they were, they conducted themselves less like hookers and exactly how I imagined mobile massage therapists would conduct themselves. I even felt bad for doubting Cowboy in the first place.

Cowboy, Casanova and I helped them carry in their massage tables and set them up in our bedrooms.

That should have been my first red flag.

The bedroom. Who comes to your house and massages you in your bedroom?

My therapist was called Imogen and she had a killer Ukranian accent that made every word sound sexy. She was very cute and young, and I guessed she was either a student or freshly graduated from college. She told me to strip down to nothing and then lay on the massage table. Face up.

That should have been my second red flag.

A little suspicious, I did as she told me to do and reclined back on the massage table making sure my towel covered the region of my body I didn’t want her massaging.

Because I was still a little apprehensive.

But whatever reservations I had quickly disappeared as soon she began massaging my arms, shoulders and hands. For a tiny girl she had amazing fingers. They kneaded and loosened my muscles until I was in complete submission.

Somehow I sank even lower into the massage table and drifted further and further into a relaxed, blissed-out state.

Right up until her hand brushed over my cock.

And if there was any doubt that she did it deliberately, it was pretty much confirmed when her fingers slid beneath the towel that covered my groin and grabbed onto my junk. My eyes flew open and I launched off the massage table so damn fast she yelped.

And that nice, conservative uniform she’d had on earlier? Yeah, it was gone. She was completely and utterly naked.

“What the hell? Where are your clothes?”

Imogen looked confused. “I can’t give you the type of massage you want in my uniform.”

Oh, Christ. I should’ve known.

“Honey, you should be able to wear a Hazmat suit while giving me the massage I’m looking for.”

“You don’t like it?” she asked, looking crestfallen. “Am I not pretty enough for you?”

Well, wasn’t I the biggest prick in the world? She was gorgeous. In-your-face gorgeous.

I tightened the towel around my hips.

“Doll face, you’re beautiful. Stunning. But this wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“You ordered a massage.”

“Yes.” I nodded slowly. “Just. A. Massage.”

By the look on her face I had a feeling she wasn’t used to being turned down.

“But this is what we do. This is what men want.”

I grabbed my wallet from my jeans, which were slung over the chair in the corner of the room.

“Not all men, honey,” I said. “Here, take this.” I gave her fifty dollars. I don’t know why. I guess I felt bad and that somehow fifty bucks might alleviate the inconvenience.

Inconvenience for what, I wasn’t quite sure.

I just wanted to throw money at the situation and make it go away. Then pretend like this never, ever happened.

Like, ever.

“Please, put your clothes back on and let’s call this even,” I pleaded.

Piercing blue eyes threw a thousand knives at my face before she snatched the fifty bucks from me.

“Fine,” she huffed.

I turned my back on her to let her redress with some privacy.

“You can turn around now,” she said flatly. Then muttered, “pussy.”

To say it was awkward as I loaded her massage table into the back of the car she and her friends arrived in, was an understatement.  

“Ah, I suppose this is goodbye then,” I said, opening the car door for her.

Imogen climbed into the car and then closed the door behind her without a word. When I looked back she was lighting a cigarette and doing the best version of resting bitch face I’d ever seen. And, let’s face it, I’d seen a lot over the years.

As I climbed the steps to the front porch, Casanova’s therapist came stomping down the stairs with Casanova and a massage table in tow. He threw me a ‘I’m in so much trouble’ look as he rushed past me and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Once in the safety of the kitchen I made myself a coffee and sat down at the kitchen counter. Within a few minutes Casanova came in and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“What the hell?” He took three deep gulps of water. “I should’ve known.”

I shook my head. “I’m going to kill Cowboy.”

“For a minute there I thought I was getting a really good massage. Then bam, she’s naked and climbing on the table.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “What did you do?”

“Are you kidding me? I stopped her. Chloe would put my dick in a vise and tighten it closed if I didn’t.”

A little while later, Cowboy walked in grinning like a goddamn Cheshire cat. “Well, that was surprising.”

“I swear to God, Cowboy . . .” Casanova threw his bottle cap at him.

“Hey, I was just as surprised as you,” he said, raising his arms at his side.

I looked at Cowboy who, now that I thought about, had taken a while to emerge from his room. “Tell me you didn’t.”

He looked sheepish. And when he grinned he basically confirmed what I had already suspected—that he’d ridden the whole way into happy town.

“Well, hey!” He grinned. “I figured, why the hell not?”

“Dude, if Hookers R Us appears anywhere on my bank statement I am going to kick your ass from here to New York City,” Casanova warned him.

Cowboy winked, looking pleased with himself.

I stood up. I needed a shower and a good night’s sleep.

And to never think of this incident ever again.

*   *   *

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Jake

We flew back to New York for game six. The day before we were set to play at Madison Square Garden, I visited Tyler.

It was a perfect summer day. Warm. Sunny. Not a cloud in the bright blue sky. The sunlight felt good on my face and for some reason I felt really calm, like things might actually work out. It was the first time in a long time I’d felt that way. Good things were coming.

It was only a short walk along the cement path winding through the cemetery before I reached Tyler’s grave. I crouched down in front of the tombstone and read the words etched into the white marble.

In Loving Memory of

TYLER AMBROSE

Beloved son, husband, father & friend

Died 30 years old

Forever number 18

That was when the lump began to tighten in my throat.

I reached out and traced my finger through the one and the eight. Tyler had worn the number 18 since I could remember.

“So I know it’s been a while,” I said awkwardly to the tombstone. “I don’t know what to say to you really. Other than I’m sorry. I’ve been such an ass.” I scoffed at my words. “Jesus, buddy, I’ve been such an ass in more ways than one.”

I sighed.

“Truth is, I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. I’m supposed to lead this team into game six of the series against the Ice Cats tomorrow, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fucking terrified.”

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. Christ, I missed him.

“Jesus, I wish you were here, buddy,” I sighed, and my shoulders sagged as I ran my hand through my hair. “I’m supposed to captain this team to victory and I’m not sure I know what to do.”

“If he was alive, he’d say you’d better wipe the floor with Ayton Salazar’s face,” came a voice from behind me.

I knew the voice before I saw her. It was a voice I hadn’t heard since Tyler’s death.

I stood up and slowly turned around, and there she was . . . Kit.

Seeing her ripped the breath from my lungs and emptied my brain of every word I knew. She was the last person I expected to see, which was crazy in retrospect, because I was standing at her husband’s grave.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” she apologized.

I shifted awkwardly on my feet. Literally stunned because she was standing across from me.

“No. It’s fine, really,” I assured her.

Awkwardness stretched out between us.

“How are you?” she asked finally.

I nodded. “I’m doing okay. You?”

It was her turn to nod. “Better.” She smiled softly. “You’re looking well.”

“Thanks. You too.”

More silence and awkwardness followed. But I was so shocked to see Kit I really didn’t know what to say.

Thankfully, Kit broke the silence. “Listen, do you want to grab a cup of coffee or something? There’s a little diner just down the road.” She smiled softly. “It would be nice to talk.”

Happiness warmed me for the first time in weeks. “I’d really like that. Do you want me to drive?”

“Do you mind if we walk? It’s not far.”

“Of course.”

I watched her kneel and place the small bunch of flowers at the base of Tyler’s gravestone. She paused, staring at it for a moment, then pressed two fingers to her lips and gently touched them to her husband’s name. My heart ached and I felt an all-too-familiar twist of guilt.

Standing she smiled wistfully at me. “Shall we go?”

We walked in the warm afternoon sun, passing the fields of gravestones until we reached the wrought iron gates leading out of the grounds, and a few moments later were walking in the door of the old diner across the road. It was one of those old-style diners with checkered linoleum floors, red leather booths and a row of stools beside the counter.

As we took a seat at a booth by the window the waitress greeted her by name. “Hey, Kit. No Ruby today?”

“Hey, Viv. No, not today. She’s with her grandparents.”

“You want the usual, hon?” The waitress called Viv asked, removing a pencil and pad from her apron. When Kit nodded, Viv turned her attention to me. “What about you, handsome?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Just coffee, thanks.”

Viv disappeared to get our orders and Kit explained, “Ruby and I come here each week after visiting Tyler’s grave. They kind of know us now.”

“How is Ruby?” It felt awkward sitting across from her but at the same time it felt like a blessing. “I bet she’s walking by now.”

“Skating.” She grinned, seemingly oblivious to the strange atmosphere between us.

“No kidding! That’s great. Tyler would be so proud.”

“I think so.”

My smile faded. “I did come to visit you when she was born.”

“I know. I saw the flowers.” Her eyes dropped to her fingers on the table in front of her. “And the letter.”

While Kit had been in surgery having her emergency C-section, I’d penned a letter to her in the waiting room. I had left it with the flowers before she woke up, knowing she hated me. Knowing she blamed me. Knowing she wouldn’t want to see me. And because I had no intention of upsetting her any more than I already had, I had left the hospital before she woke up and then left town soon after.

“It took me a long time to be able to read that letter” She raised her eyes to mine and I was shocked to see they were full of regret. “Listen, Jake, I owe you a big apology. I am so sorry. I reacted badly and said some terrible things to you.”

“Please don’t apologize to me—”

“No, let me say this. Please…” Her big eyes blinked up at me. “Everything I said about Tyler dying because of you—it wasn’t true. I was hurting. I was angry and confused. Every inch of me was consumed with grief and heartache, and wanted to know why this was happening to my family. I was looking for someone to blame because I needed to get it straight in my head. I needed for it to make sense before I could accept it. And blaming you, Jake . . . blaming you was my way of trying to make sense of it all. At least then I could say, ‘well, Jake did this. This is why Tyler died.’ But at the end of the day it was an accident. No one is to blame. It was just the way it was meant to be.”

I swallowed slowly, an odd tingle in my stomach. “Do you really believe that’s true?”

She nodded. “I know it’s true.” She reached across the table and covered my hands with hers. They were warm and gentle and my heart ached to be close to her again. To have her like me. To have her forgive me. “What happened was an accident. And that’s the plain and simple truth. Just a stupid, unfair accident.”

Relief soared through me and my face felt stiff with emotion. I exhaled deeply to fight off the unshed tears. I needed to hear that. Not from everyone else. But from her.

She squeezed my hands and when I looked at her I saw that she was crying. It was all I needed for my own tears to break loose and fall down my cheeks. I swallowed back all the emotion that had formed a giant, cold ache in my throat.

“I miss him . . .” my voice trailed off as the emotion shook my chin.

“I know you do. We all do. But he would be so proud, Jake.” She smiled through her tears. “He would be so proud of you. Look at how far you’ve come. Look at how hard you’ve worked to get through this.”

I swallowed hard and my eyes dropped to the table. I couldn’t help but frown and Kit shook my hands to get my attention.

“Hey, why do I get the feeling there is something else going on?” she asked.

When I looked at her, the softness in her face made me want to confide in her about the clusterfuck situation with Mackenzie. But I wouldn’t. Because Mackenzie was no longer an option in my life. And right now this moment wasn’t about her or the bullshit bet that broke my heart. It was about Tyler, and Kit, and me.

“We have the playoffs on Saturday. I’d forgotten how nervous I could get,” I lied. Well, half-lied. I was nervous. Actually, I was anxious as fuck.

A small smile tugged at Kit’s mouth. “I remember how nervous you and Tyler were at the last playoffs. Remember those damn playoff beards you insisted you both grow?”

Pain swelled in my chest at the memory. But I couldn’t help but smile through my grief. While I had no trouble growing a beard, Tyler couldn’t grow one for shit. But damn he’d been proud of that thin patchy growth of hair on his chin.

Oh, God. Was the pain ever going to subside?

“I miss him. Every damn day of my life,” I said. And I meant it more than anything. “He should be playing. He should be on the ice along side me. He should be alive.”

Fuck. More tears.

Kit nodded and then sighed. She reached into her handbag on the table and pulled out a small wad of tissue paper.

“Here.” She handed it to me. “I was hoping I would see you before the playoffs so I’ve kept this with me. I know it’s something Tyler would want you to have.”

When I unfolded the tissue paper, diamonds and gold sparkled up at me.

It was Tyler’s college hockey championship ring.

I looked at Kit. “This was his favorite.”

She laughed through a fresh wave of tears. “I know, right. I almost had to cut the damn thing off his finger to get him to wear his wedding ring instead. Crazy, stupid man.”

We had won these during our last season in college.

“I can’t—”

“Please, Jake. He would want you to wear it.” She smiled and sniffed back her tears. “Put it on a chain. Stick it in your boot. Hell, shove it down your jock strap, it doesn’t matter. Just wear it on you during the playoff, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay. Of course, I will.”

She smiled and blinked back her tears.

“Now that that soppy shit is out of the way, how about we get another cup of coffee and you can tell me all about her?” she said with a smile.

“Who?”

She gave me her don’t bullshit me, Jake Pennington look.

Christ, I had missed that.

*  *   *

Chapter Forty

Jake

“You’re being a pussy,” Kit said. “A whiny-ass, pasty-faced little pussy.”

Apparently, the love-fest from earlier was over.

“No, really, please, tell me what you really think.”

Kit fixed me with a stern look. “So it was a bet. So what!” She leaned on the table. “You need to get over it.”

“Get over it? Just like that?” I reached for a napkin from the napkin holder by the window and busied myself with some absentminded origami awesomeness.

“Yes! Just like that. You love her, and by the sounds of it, she loves you.”

“It was all a lie,” I reminded her.

“How?” Kit challenged. “How was it all a lie?”

I looked up from my napkin origami. “She used me to satisfy some stupid need in her to prove to her father that she was good at her job. Oh, and let’s not forget the little bet she had with her cousin: get Jake Pennington back on top and she would get to manage Purgatory.”

Kit looked impressed. “The MMA fighter? Boy, he’s hot.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Not helping.”

“Because you’re being a little bitch. Crying into your cereal like a toddler.”

I’d forgotten how well Kit could kick my ass.

“You’re so not on my side with this, are you?”

“Are you kidding me? Every cell in my body wants to throat punch her for hurting you. But it wasn’t deliberate, Jake. Yes, her intentions were a bit thoughtless at the beginning but it sounds like that all changed when she got to know you.” Her face softened. “Sounds like she fell head over heels in love with you.” She reached across the table and closed her hand over mine. “And it sounds like you fell head over heels in love with her.”

I didn’t even bother trying to deny it. Instead, I sighed. “How can I trust her again?”

She folded her arms and leaned them against the table. “Look at what she did for you? She never gave up on you, Jake. Right from the very beginning, it seems. Because if she didn’t see something in you she would never have made that bet.”

Good point.

I threw the screwed-up paper swan on the table and sat back.

“Do yourself a favor and get over it,” Kit said, and the look she gave me was pointed. “Don’t be sitting there in your post-win glory and have any regrets. I’m telling you now, Jake, if she isn’t by your side when you kickass at the playoffs, you will regret it.”

*  *   *

Mackenzie

I arrived back in NYC on the day of game six. I hadn’t planned it that way. In fact, I would have preferred not to be in town, knowing Jake was only miles away.

But at least I was home.

Meg and Anna had gone out of town for a girls’ weekend to Atlantic City and had already left a couple of messages on my cell phone. I’d been home two minutes when they rang again. Drunk.

“Hey, girl, get on a bus and meet us out here!” Meg yelled enthusiastically through the phone. I could hear slot machines zinging and pinging in the background.

“Yeah, baby!” Anna yelled over her shoulder. “Get your crazy ass down here!”

I couldn’t help but grin. I loved my girlfriends. And as appealing as a girl’s trip sounded, I decided not to make the two-hour trip to New Jersey.

“Next time, I promise.”

Instead, I went for a walk, hoping that the smells and sounds of the city I loved so much would ease the heavy sadness in my chest. But the city was alive with playoff fever because the beloved NYC Ice Cats were set to take home the Stanley Cup glory, and every nook and cranny of the city seemed to hold some kind of reminder of the hockey match about to take place.  

I told myself I wasn’t going to watch the game. But when the game started I was sitting at the bar in a dark, wood-paneled Irish pub on 7th Avenue, nursing an untouched glass of wine and staring at Bob and Jim on the TV screen behind the bar. Here, the hockey fever gripping the city seemed quieter, although there were two tables of Ice Cat jerseys behind me and a table of Fury fans to my right, so I had no doubt it would get rowdy once the game started.

Which took all of two minutes after the faceoff between Jake and Salazar, when the Ice Cats got the puck past Jupiter and Cowboy, only to be denied by the rapid deflection of Loki.

Despite my heavy heart, I couldn’t help but smile at Loki’s Chewbacca helmet. I knew how proud that crazy kid would be. It didn’t make him look as formidable as his Loki mask, or the Lucifer helmet, but it looked very, very cool.

When one of the Ice Cats stick checked Michel Angelo and tousled with him up against the boards, the table of Fury fans yelled furiously at the TV screen, while the Ice Cats banged their palms on the table. Then the Ice Cats fierce enforcer, Lou Peedy, set his sights on Cowboy and the two went to town with their fists. The three tables of hockey fans went wild. The barman, who had given up trying to keep them under control, glanced up from drying glasses and then turned back to his task with a shake of his head.

I listened to Jim Keeper and Bob Murdoch.

“They’ve got this game tied up so tight even Christian Grey would have a hard time getting this one untangled.”

“Did you seriously just reference Fifty Shades of Grey, Jim?”

“Why, yes, Bob, I did.  Saw the movie on a recent visit to Canada.” 

“And did you grow a vagina while you were there?”

During the third period, when the Fury were leading one to nothing, a huge Fury fan in a hockey jersey and a Stetson slid up next to me. He was a hundred-foot tall and signaled to the barman for service.

“Another round for me and my buddies,” he said with a heavy Texas drawl. He turned to me while he waited, his jovial face beaming with a smile. “What about you, lil’ lady? My team is winning and I’m feeling generous, how about I buy you a drink?”

I shook my head and indicated my untouched glass of wine. “I’m still working my way through this one. But thanks, anyway.”

He winked at me. “Tell me, sweetheart. You an Ice Cat fan? Or a Fury fan?”

“I don’t know much about hockey.” I don’t know why I lied. Well, kind of lied, because let’s face it, I still didn’t know that much about hockey. I guess I didn’t want to talk about t.

“Well, let me tell you, sugar. The Fury are the best goddamn hockey team in the world. And tonight they are going to mop the floor with those dang Ice Cats, you mark my word.” He was theatrical in his delivery. “With Pennington playing, they’re unstoppable as a freight train.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it. “That boy is a special kind of something.”

I nodded regretfully. “So I’ve heard.”

Tex paid for his drinks then lifted four bottles of beer off the bar. “You have yourself a great night, you hear.”

“You too.” I gave him a big smile. “And go Galveston Fury!”

He winked again and rejoined his friends at the table, while I toyed with my glass of wine and listened to Jim Keeper and Bob Murdoch on screen.

“And here we are, Loki the Destroyer faces off with Salazar, Salazar flings a slingshot to Tex and—awwwwww, he takes a slamming bodycheck from Cowboy. And it’s like a massacre out there, folks. Little Big Horn has got nothing on this hockey game. The Fury are annihilating the Ice Cats, Bob. It’s what I call a pussycat bloodbath. How on Earth are the Ice Cats going to comeback from this, Murdoch?”

“I’m suggesting a couple of aspirin and a career change, Jim.”

 When the Galveston Fury took out the game to win the Stanley Cup championship, I watched with mixed emotions. Around me, the Ice Cat fans were vocal in their disappointment while Tex and his Fury fans started to get raucous in their joy.

I quietly got up from my barstool and walked home.

Jake felt farther away from me than ever.

*   *   *

Chapter Forty-One

Jake

We won.

We goddamn won.

The Galveston Fury were the Stanley Cup champions and no one—no one—could change that.

After months of hard work we had done the impossible and climbed that leader board to take out the top position, and I couldn’t be prouder of this team if I tried.

No one thought we could do it.

Well, maybe one person. And she wasn’t here.

As I sat there in my sweats after my shower, Kit’s words echoed in my head. It was wrong that Mackenzie wasn’t here; after all, she was the reason I was here in the first place. She had predicted all of this. She had believed in me, believed in matching me with the Fury and knew we could get to the playoffs.

Damnit.

I stood up and put my hockey bag back in my locker.

I might not like her a lot right now, but I wasn’t going to let Mackenzie miss out on celebrating our Stanley Cup win after she had believed in us when no one else had.  

I ran into Casanova and Cowboy walking into the locker rooms.

“Hey, buddy, you ready to celebrate mopping the floor with your old Ice Cat buddies?” Cowboy asked with an excited post-game high. 

There was only one thing that was more important to me than mopping that ice up with Ayton Salazar’s face. And that was making sure Mackenzie got to celebrate me doing it.

“I was born ready,” I replied.

Casanova stopped me. “Then where you going? The locker room is this way.”

“I know, I just have to do something first.”

Both my teammates looked alarmed.

“Wait? You’re leaving?” Casanova asked. 

Cowboy frowned. “Dude, the party is just about to begin!”

“I won’t be long.”

“What’s so important that you’re going to run out on your team?” Casanova asked, and then stopped himself. “Mackenzie.”

Cowboy looked at me like I was insane. “Dude, you’re leaving us to go and get a chick?”

“She should be here,” I said, ready to defend my decision. But I didn’t have to because my two teammates didn’t seem to need much convincing.

“Yes, she should be.” They both agreed.

“Here.” Casanova shoved his motorcycle keys into my palm and his helmet into my chest. “It’s insanity out there. You’ll never get back unless you ride.”

I grinned. “Thanks.”

He feigned annoyance. “Yeah, yeah. You scratch it, you buy it.”

Outside, the traffic was ridiculous but it was easy to maneuver through the gridlock of cars on Casanova’s Ducati, and within ten minutes I was away from the post-game traffic jams and on my way to Mackenzie’s apartment.

I had no idea what I was going to say to her. No idea how I was going to feel seeing her when she opened that front door. No idea how I was going to stand next to her and not want to touch her or kiss her. What I did know was that I was going to suck it up, stop being such a pussy and do the right thing.

Bounding up the stairs to her apartment, post-game nerves frizzed and zipped through me, colliding with a sudden anxiousness to see her. But I ignored them and hammered on her door. When she didn’t answer, I hammered again.

“Come on, Z, answer the door.”

Still nothing.

“I know you’re home.”

Again nothing.

I dropped my forehead to the door.

“Come on, Z,” I said quietly. “Please open up.”

Call me crazy, but I knew she was home because I could feel her presence on the other side of the door, and now I was determined to see her so I wasn’t about to be deterred by her attempt to ignore me. I flattened my palm against the green timber door.

“Just give me two minutes and then I’ll go,” I murmured.

The sound of the chain sliding across the lock filled me with renewed hope. But when Mackenzie opened the door, I realized she’d been putting the chain on and not taking it off, meaning she could only open the door so far.

“What do you want, Jake?” Her sad eyes wouldn’t look at me.

“Just give me a couple of minutes.”

“Why aren’t you celebrating with your team?”

“Because you’re not and you should be.”

For the first time since opening the door, she looked at me and I could see she had been crying.

Alarm flared in my chest. “Z, what’s wrong?”

“You should go,” she said and started to close the door but I wedged my foot against it.

“Let me in.”

“I said no, Jake. Go away.”

“Not until I talk to you.”

She looked up at me pleadingly. “Please . . . just go.” Light sparkled in her beautiful eyes but something about her seemed off. “We’ll talk later.”

Rejection tugged at my stomach. I frowned and bit back my hurt. “You’ve been begging to talk to me and now that I’m here you’re turning me away?”

“We’ll talk later.” Her eyes found mine. “Go celebrate beating those pesky Philly Penguins.”

“Z—”

“Goodbye, Jake.”

When the door closed I remained rooted to the spot. Then feeling dismissed, I turned and walked away.

* *   *

Chapter Forty-Two

Mackenzie

When I closed the door on Jake panic flared in my chest and from the corner of my eye I could see my fingers trembling as they quietly replaced the chain.

Goodbye, Jake.

I swallowed hard as terror filled every pore of my being.

“Nicely done, mon cherie,” Derek whispered in my ear. His breath was warm and soft against my cheek, while his gun was cold and hard against my ribs. Exhaling deeply, he licked my lobe and pressed his lips against my temple in a big kiss that made my stomach churn.

“You know, if you had let him in I was going to shoot him,” he said, his lips lingering on my skin.

I squeezed my eyes closed. “I know.” Of course I knew. He had warned me the moment Jake had knocked on the door. You get rid of him or he’s dead.

I felt the rough calloused pads of Derek’s fingers as they pressed into my jaw. “You did well, mon cherie.” He ran his nose through my hair, inhaling deeply and moaning. It took everything I had to keep the vomit down and my knees from buckling. I had to keep my calm if I was to get through this.

Thirty minutes earlier, I had been in the kitchen pouring a glass of wine. That’s where Derek had cornered me. He had stepped out from the shadows and revealed himself to me with two simple words, “Hello, Mackenzie.”

That’s when I had run, tipping over a lamp, a bar stool and a side table in my attempt to make it to the front door. But Derek had been too fast for me and had tackled me less than a yard from the freedom of my front door. We’d crashed to the floor, hard, and Derek had used his bulk and strength to overpower me. He’d straddled me while I had squirmed and fought beneath him, kicking the timber floors with the back of my ankles until he had pressed his gun to my temple and told me to stop.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Mackenzie,” he’d sputtered. “But it doesn’t mean that I won’t.”

That was when Jake had banged on my front door. My instinct had been to scream for help but Derek had clasped a hand over my mouth and pressed the gun deeper against my skull.

“He’ll survive this,” he’d whispered darkly. “If you do exactly what I say. Do you understand me?”

I had nodded.

“Good. Now I am going to take my hand away and you are not going to make a noise. Because if you do . . . if you do . . . I will kill him and make you watch.”

Again, I had nodded, then forced my body to relax so he would see I would do as I was told.

When Jake hammered on the door again Derek had gestured for me to get up.

“If he knocks again I might just shoot him,” he said with an amused smirk on his lips.

Terror tore through me. “I can get rid of him!” I’d said quickly.

Derek had eyed me suspiciously.

“Please . . . Derek.”

My use of his name had struck some kind of chord with him and he had relaxed a little. He’d gestured toward the door. “Make him go away.” He’d held up his gun. “Or I will.”

Come on, Z. Please open up.

Swallowing deeply, and trying desperately to stop my fingers from shaking, I’d reached for the door chain.

Just give me two minutes and then I’ll go.

I’d put the door chain on to stop Jake from storming in; hoping it might save his life because if he did I had no doubt Derek would try to hurt him. Then holding my breath I had opened my door.

Seeing Jake brought tears to my eyes and in that one moment I was terrified. Terrified that he would get hurt. Terrified that he wouldn’t go away and end up being shot. Terrified that he would go away and what that would mean for me once he was gone.

When I was alone with my captor.

I didn’t know what Derek had in mind. He’d once said that he’d never hurt me. That I was his angel. His sole reason for breathing. That a world without me would be like a world without oxygen. Yet, according to the police and the slew of psychologists involved in the case afterwards, Derek had planned on killing me the night he had kidnapped me. A murder suicide . . . or so they said. So I had no idea what nefarious plans he had for me once Jake was gone.

Oh, God.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Derek said softly.

I inhaled my sob and turned to face my intruder. “Then let me go,” I pleaded.

He shook his head. “It’s just you and me now, Mackenzie.”

In that moment I was grateful that Meg and Anna were out of town. Because if they had been here this would still have happened, and Derek would have hurt them both.

I dropped my gaze to the floor because I couldn’t bear to look at him. “What are you going to do?”

Standing right in front of me, he used two fingers to lift my chin and I had to swallow back my fear as his eyes met mine. “We’re meant to be together,” he said tenderly, as if we were two lovers and this was an intimate moment.

“No,” I sobbed desperately. I couldn’t take it. My fear was palpable. “We’re not meant to be together.”

Derek raised my chin again, this time harder. Rougher. “Why?” he asked sharply. But before I could answer he seemed to spiral into an emotional vortex. “Why do you do that? Every time I think you’re finally getting it! Every time I think I can trust you—” He took two frustrated steps back. “Why, Mackenzie? Why?”

He turned on his heels and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

I thought of Jake and my chest caved in with the heartache. I would never see him again. Never kiss him again. We would never get our happy ending.

“Because I don’t love you,” I trembled.

Derek swung back to look at me. I thought he would erupt into anger but he seemed suddenly inspired by whatever mania was going through his head and his face lit up with excitement. “Of course you don’t. How could you? You don’t even know me.” He smiled and I looked away because I didn’t want to watch as he crossed the room to me. But when he reached me he lifted my chin again and spoke to me with an excited affection. “But you will. I know you will. You just need to get to know me. Just like I got to know you over that summer at college.”

He spoke of that summer at college as if we had been lovers.

But we hadn’t been. He had stalked me. Obsessed over me. And then viciously attacked me.

I trembled beneath his touch.

“Derek . . . please—” My face broke. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to endure what was about to happen.

Derek wiped my tears. From a lover it would have been a gentle, loving moment. It would have been intimate and soothing, and it would evoke a flood of affection. But this was none of that. This was torture.

“Oh, my sweet Mackenzie,” he said as he looked down on me with a delusional adoration. “We are going to be so happy together.”

I felt more tears spill down my cheeks. “No.”

His mad eyes searched my face and I could see the craziness there. It wasn’t bright and vibrant, it was dark and sinister, and it terrified me.

“Mon cherie,” he whispered.

As he leaned in to kiss me I closed my eyes and forced my mind away from what was happening. I forced my mind away from the touch of his lips against mine. Away from his insistent tongue as it forced its way into my mouth in an unwanted kiss. I gagged and he moaned, and when I gagged again he crushed his body against me, gripping my arms until they hurt. He moaned again, desperately this time, and I realized with a sickening terror that he was getting off on my fear.

When he pulled back to look at me his face was a mask of unconcealed evil.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he said.

I stiffened, my body absolutely rigid with fear. Oh, God.

Derek exhaled deeply as if a sudden surge of pleasure rippled through him.

“Tonight is going to be magical,” he sighed and brushed a lock of hair from my face. “When I finally make you mine.”

“No!” I pleaded, terrified of what was about to happen. I tried to shake him off me. I was going to fight this right to the end, right to my very last breath. But when I struggled against him he gripped me tighter and laughed at me, getting off on my panic.

“I know, I know,” he laughed. “It’s always so crazy the first time together. But don’t be nervous, mon cherie. You can trust me. I know we’re made for one another.” He sighed deeply again. “When we finally make love . . .”

His words filled me with revulsion and I struggled again, fiercely trying to break free from his grip. “Derek, no—”

This time a dark shadow crossed his face and he gripped me tighter. “Why are you fighting me?” His fingers dug deep into my arms. “Why are you trying to get away from me?”

“Let me go,” I begged. “You’re hurting me.”

He shook me and I was like a ragdoll in his hands.

“Why are you not happy? When we can finally be together!” Anger was bright on his face as he yelled. “Why are you ruining our first time together?”

“Because this is wrong, Derek,” I cried. “You’re sick!”

Rage erupted across his face as he struggled to keep me restrained. “We belong together!”

“No.”

I whimpered as he shoved me toward the bedroom. “I know we do. And you will too when I’ve finished with you.”

I fought him. I fought him so hard but in the end it only increased his arousal. He forced me up against the wall, mashing my face into the plaster and pinning me there with his body. My body jerked and flinched as he reached around for the buckle of my belt.

I struggled but it was no use. This was going to happen.

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my mind back to that first night in Jake’s cabin, when I had told him about Derek and his madness. When Jake had pulled me into the safety of his arms and surrounded me in his warmth. If I tried really hard, I could feel that warmth around me now.

I would not be here while Derek did whatever he was going to do to me. He might overcome me physically but I’d be damned if I was going to let him take my mind. I would think of Jake and those four magical days at Moose Lake.

Derek ripped my belt through the loops of my jeans.

And I thought of Jake and his beautiful smile.

Derek’s tongue slid into my ear like a slug.

And I thought of Jake holding me tight against his broad chest.

Derek’s moan filled my ears and rushed to the receptors in my brain.

And I thought of Jake’s exquisitely gentle touch.

Derek’s breath filled my nostrils with suffocating intensity.

And I thought of Jake and the look of affection on his face as he told me he loved me.

“Jake.” His name was just a whisper on my lips as Derek struggled with the button on my jeans.

That was when the front door exploded.

Distracted by the disturbance, Derek’s hold on me loosened and seconds later an unseen force removed it completely, freeing me so I was able to swing around and see what was happening.

Jake.

He had Derek in a tackle and threw him against the wall. But Derek was like a wild animal and fought viciously, growling like a feral cat as he struggled against Jake’s bulk.

That was when the gun went off.

* *   *

Chapter Forty-Three

Mackenzie

I stood outside the ICU and stared into the room where tubes and cables came out of the body on the hospital bed. And I stood there alone, quiet and disbelieving, my heart as heavy as a sack of potatoes in my chest.

My eyes dropped to my shaking hands in front of me.

“Miss Eden?” A female detective appeared at my side. “We’re ready for you.”

I glanced at her and then back at the body on the hospital bed. There was some doubt he would survive. The doctors said the bullet had entered through his temple and grazed a part of his brain, and now it was a waiting game.

Biting back my nausea, I followed the detective to a small room off the corridor. Inside, was another detective, male.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

I slowly lowered myself into the chair, feeling vague and dizzy.

“Is he going to die?” I asked, finding it hard to form words over the lump in my throat.

The detectives glanced at one another before the female replied, “The doctors say it’s still too early, but it doesn’t look good.”

I nodded, waiting for the relief that didn’t come. I should want him to die. It would mean this would all be over.

“You’ve been through quite the ordeal,” the male detective pointed out. “You’re lucky.”

I didn’t feel lucky. I felt numb.

“How did this happen?” I asked, feeling blindsided. “How did he get out?”

“There will be an investigation. But it appears he had stopped taking his medication a week or so ago, and was able to escape.”

I wanted to be sick but swallowed back the spit that filled my mouth.

“Are they sure?” I asked in disbelief.

The male detective nodded. “They found more than a week’s worth of medication stuck into a hole in his bed mattress.”

My fingers curled around the armrest of the chair. If Derek had been off his meds for a week or so, then he was in a full-blown psychosis when he’d found me. I shivered and tried to calm the palpitations as my heart beat wildly in my chest. After he’d raped me, he would’ve killed us both—I just knew it.

“You’re quite lucky your friend showed up when he did,” the female detective said.

She didn’t need to tell me, I already knew that.

“Is Jake okay?”

“Do you want to see him?” The male detective asked.

My head shot up. “He’s still here?”

He nodded. “We’ve questioned him and he’s free to go but he won’t leave until he can see you.”

When the female detective left the room, the male detective then turned to me.

“You’re free to go, too, Miss Eden,” he said.

Good because I needed a long bath and a massive glass of wine. And by massive, obviously I meant the whole fucking bottle.

The door opened and Jake walked in. I didn’t hesitate, I jumped up from my chair and went to him, throwing my arms around him. Big hands held me against a broad chest and I buried my face into the warmth of him, fighting back a sudden wave of fatigue and tears.

When I pulled back, he pressed his hands into the side of my face. “Are you okay?” Judging the urgency in his voice he was more than concerned. He was faltering and panicking. His eyes dancing all over my face.

I nodded quickly. “I’m okay.” I reached up and touched his face to calm him and I saw him relax, but only slightly.

“We’ll leave you to it,” the female detective said, appearing behind Jake. “You’re both free to go but we will need to see you at the precinct tomorrow.”

When they left the room, I turned to Jake and hugged him again. When we finally stepped back I looked up at him.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“When you mentioned the Philly Penguins. At first I thought you were simply mistaken but then I realized there was no way you would get something like that wrong. No way in hell.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I knew something was stopping you from opening that door and that you were trying to tell me something. Truth is, I had no idea what was happening on the other side of that door, but I knew it wasn’t good.” I watched his Adam’s apple deepen in his throat when he swallowed. “I was outside your apartment building when it occurred to me. Christ, Z—I’ve never run so fast in my life.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck again and breathed in the familiar and comforting scent of him. Engulfed in his warmth and with his strong arms around me I was calm. Immediately, my body relaxed against him.

Then remembering the game and the fact that the Fury had won the Cup, I gasped and stepped back.

“Oh, my God, Jake! You won!” I said with wide eyes.

He nodded, but it lacked excitement. “Yes, we did.”

I grabbed his hands, my head dizzy with everything that had happened. “You really won!”

His smile was big. “We’re the Stanley Cup champions, baby.”

I laughed but took a sudden step back when I realized he should be with his team and not here with me. “I’m so sorry. You should be celebrating with your teammates. Not here with me, caught up in my mess.”

Jake had overcome a lot, put in the hard work, moved cross-country, sank a lot into the championship campaign, and won. I was taking his moment of glory away from him.

But Jake simply pulled me back to him and wrapped those big, strong arms around me again.

“There is no other place I’d rather be, Z.” He pressed another kiss into my hair, and again I melted against him.

“But you’ve worked so hard for this,” I murmured against his warm chest.

He waved it off. “I’ll celebrate twice as hard when we win it again next year.”

I couldn’t see him but I knew he would be smiling.

I looked up at him, calmed by the simple fact of being with him.

“So what happens now?” he asked.

I pulled away from him a little and said, “I guess that all depends on you.”

His perfect eyebrows rose. “Me?”

I dropped my gaze as I struggled to find the words. But Jake gently lifted my chin to look at him and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“Why does it depend on me?” he asked softly.

I took a step toward the edge of the cliff. And for the first time in my life, I jumped.

“I’m in love with you, Jake. You’re all I want,” I said quickly. And, damn, tears started to well in my eyes. I exhaled as a profound regret burrowed deep into my chest. I needed him to understand just how badly I missed him. How badly I needed him. “Nothing else matters. Because all I do is miss you, do you understand that? All I do is ache for you. All I do is think of you and try and control the overwhelming need to be with you.”

Jake looked up at me through a furrowed brow. “You sound like a Dire Straits song.”

I couldn’t help but look crestfallen. “You’re totally killing the moment.”

Jake gently raised my chin to so I had no choice but to look at him.  “Did I mention how much I like Dire Straits? Especially that song . . . what is it? Juliet something?”

His grin made my chest burst with love. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I never meant to hurt you.”

Those vibrant eyes of his found mine. “I know.”

“You know?”

The rough pad of his thumb grazed my cheek. “I always knew. I was just pissed. And proud. And maybe too stubborn for my own good.” A small smile tugged at his mouth, then he scraped his white teeth across his bottom lip and sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Spellbound by his words and his beautiful, beautiful face, I couldn’t look away. Almost trance-like, I blurted out, “You make me want to have babies and learn how to bake cookies.”

His smile was as bright as a floodlight as he chuckled slightly. 

I went to open my mouth to say something but he leaned down and closed it with a deep and purposeful kiss, bringing his hands up to cup my face as his mouth moved sensually over mine. I couldn’t stop the moan that rose between us. For weeks this was all I had dreamed about. To feel his mouth on mine again, to feel his warmth surrounding me, knowing he still wanted me.

He pulled away with a groan.

“Come on. Let’s go home,” he said, taking my hand in his. “I can’t promise you babies right away, but we can sure get a head start on trying.”

*   *   *

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Moose Lake

Mackenzie

Snow fell gently from the sky and landed on the little window pane behind us. Pale morning light broke into the dimness of the cabin as warm lips gently brushed across my shoulder, followed by the tender whisper of breath on my skin.

Fingers, gentle and smooth, made invisible lines along the length of my arms, slipping to my hips and trailing along the curves of my thighs. Behind me, Jake exhaled deeply and I felt his body shift and stir with need.

I sighed, briefly closing my eyes at the bliss of his inviting touch, shivering as his fingers pressed into my hips. He pulled me against him, his breath warm on my naked back as his erection pressed into the peachy curve of my ass.

With an insistent nudge he parted my legs, giving himself access to the most sensitive parts of me. Parts that were already slick and ready for whatever he was about to do. It was all the invitation he needed.

With one finger he worked me up, pressing and dipping it slightly in and then removing it teasingly, leaving me empty and fluttering in its wake. I moaned, wanting more, needing more. When he finally pushed his finger all the way in, I tightened around him and he moaned, his breathing coming harder when he felt how tight and wet I was.

I felt him shudder and his cock dip and lift against my back but he said nothing. He pressed forward and his finger teased me some more. It swirled around the tiny bud of nerves, then slid inside of me slowly where I suckled and clenched it like I did with his cock when he fucked me.

With a maddened groan, he withdrew his finger and pulled me backwards, digging his erection deeper into the small of my back. Taking himself in his hand, he put his cock right where I wanted it to be and slowly began to rub it against my most sensitive sweet spot. 

My mind spun with pleasure. Christ, if he kept doing that I was going to come so damn quick. But then, Jake knew that. If there was one thing we had lost hours to over the past five months, it was exploring each other’s bodies and what we liked.

“Please . . .” I begged.

With one push he was in me, and the curve of his body fit perfect to mine as he slowly rolled his hips and his cock tunneled into me. Strong fingers pulled me to meet his lazy, hard thrusts. We moved together, our bodies completely entwined, our breath laced with the pleasure coursing through our bodies. It started out languid and hazy, and my orgasm was a slow build of heat and sweetness as it bloomed into life. It coiled at the very depth of me and spread out slowly, swelling in me and building intensity as Jake continued his rhythmic pumps.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered. “You feel so good.”

I twisted to find his mouth. But it wasn’t enough for either of us.

“Fuck, Z—” He groaned, his voice raspy from sleep and full of need. “You’re so damn wet.”

He pulled out of me and rolled me onto my back, quickly parting my legs and plunging back into me again, this time hitting all the nerves at the front of my sex. With a grunt he pulled out of me and then roughly thrust back into me with such urgency it detonated my climax.

Pleasure tore throughout my body as I cried his name and gripped his perfect ass, pushing him deeper into me. Digging my toes into the mattress I raised my hips to meet the grind of his pelvis against mine. “Oh, God!” There was nothing on Earth that felt as good as that.

As my orgasm rolled through me, I grabbed onto the headboard behind me and cried out as my world obliterated into a million pieces of brilliant light. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, my hazy, bliss-soaked brain barely registering Jake’s climax as he was overpowered by his own euphoria. He moaned and shuddered, his teeth gently grazing my shoulder, his hips pumping with the same lazy rhythm until he was empty.

He collapsed onto me and I felt the thunder of his pulse on my breasts. Moments passed in silence as our breathing calmed and our heartbeats evened.

Naked and satiated from our lovemaking, it was minutes before Jake rolled onto his side and gently ran a finger along my arm.

“Tell me something,” he said.

I looked at him, totally spent. “Sure.”

His beautiful eyes found mine. Even now, after months of knowing him, the color of them still fascinated me. “How are you feeling about everything. It’s been a crazy couple of months.”

He wasn’t wrong. After Derek had broken into my home, attacked and attempted to rape me, both Jake and I had endured some seriously lengthy police interviews. After much investigation, we were cleared of any wrongdoing. Derek, on the other hand, survived his injuries and woke up from his coma to face a whole stack of charges.

He was sent to a high-security facility where he would see out the rest of his days. He wouldn’t be getting out again.

“It’s crazy, but I’m not scared anymore,” I said, holding up my hands and noting the steadiness of my fingers. My fear was gone. For the first time in years, my fear was really gone. I felt lighter, like a huge weight had been lifted from me. I turned my head to look at him. “It’s really over.”

Jake nodded. “It is. He can’t hurt you any more.”

“Not just that. I’m talking about the anxiety. The meltdowns. The insanity.” I smiled up at the most beautiful man in the world who was looking back at me with absolute affection. “It’s time to move forward.”

I hadn’t had an anxiety attack in weeks.

“I’m proud of you.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss into my shoulder. “Time to bring on the pancakes?”

I looked sheepish. “Baby steps, Jake.”

My phone pinged with a message. It was Daisy with a message that read:

This is what happiness looks like.

The next message was a selfie of her and Anna in Aspen, their lips pressed together.

They had met two months earlier when a bad-tempered Daisy had shown up on my doorstep, mad as hell because all her accounts had been frozen, courtesy of Johnny Johnston. She had come looking for me, hoping I would talk some sense into the old coot, and had walked straight into Anna. It was insta-love for the both of them.

Two weeks ago, Daisy had announced to the entire world that she was gay and then promptly escaped to Aspen with her new love. Now they were shamelessly flaunting their relationship for all the world to see, and spreading it through Instagram and Facebook. I was proud of her. She had stood up to everyone and was finally happy.

I showed Jake the picture and he grinned.

“So tell me, do you know a good agent?” he asked, lacing his fingers through mine. “Because I have to get rid of the one I’ve got.”

Since the night of the playoffs and Derek’s attempt to rape me, I had resumed work as Jake’s agent.

I looked at him suspiciously. “Oh, really, why is that?”

“Because I’m going to marry her,” he said, like it was no big deal. “And she has this thing about mixing business with pleasure. She’s kind of a pain in the ass about it, really.”

I stared at him, my mouth agape. “Marry?”

He looked down at me, his face filled with a crazy amount of emotion as he said softly, “Yeah, what do you say, Z? Think you could handle being Mrs. Sasquatch?”

It took a moment for my post-orgasm brain to catch up. Jake Pennington was asking me to marry him. The Saskatoon Sasquatch wanted me to be his wife.

Happiness replaced shock and I grinned up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Z, there is nothing I want more.” He leaned down and planted a kiss on my lips. When he pulled back, he asked, “So?”

I pulled him back down to me. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

THE END

*   *   *