THE ELEVATOR DOOR closes with a soft thump in front of me. I’m standing next to Dani, who is moving restlessly. I glance down at her and she’s shifting on her feet, rubbing her hands over her arms, biting her lip. She’s watching Crew, who is smiling at her in reassurance.
I don’t usually refer to grown women as adorable but she truly is. There is something about her, a combination of sweet and sensual that instantly appealed to me. This is a woman with layers, and I want to peel them all back, one by one until I reach her soft core.
I move closer to her, almost imperceptibly. My arm brushes against hers and she turns, startled, staring up at me with a puzzled expression. Her mouth parts and her tongue sneaks out and wets her bottom lip nervously. She tucks her wavy hair behind one ear and leans my way, into my touch, so her arm is aligned with mine.
Heat shoots through me like a bolt of lightning.
She can sense it too. What I’m feeling. What I felt the moment I looked into her eyes in the stands after she’d hit her head. There’s a pull between her and me, like an electromagnetic field, drawing us together. It seems to be confusing her, given that she was just kissing Crew.
It doesn’t confuse me. It just turns me on.
The air in the elevator feels thick with sexual tension. Given I’m a good eight inches taller than her, I can see the swell of her breasts peeking out above the V of her Racketeers T-shirt. The shirt is snug against her curves, but the cardigan has slipped down on her left shoulder, dragging the T-shirt with it, and exposing more of her breast than she seems to be aware of. I reach out and shift the sweater back onto her shoulder so the shirt underneath slips back into place.
She jumps a little, then looks down at her chest. She whips her head around to stare at me, cheeks pink. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
“Of course.” And just like that, I have every intention of getting her number before I leave this arena tonight.
It’s been a few months since I’ve been on a date, and about a year since I was exclusively seeing one woman, and even though Dani isn’t my usual type, it feels right to ask her out. I tend to date women in the medical profession because they understand the demands of my career. Which has turned out to be a terrible strategy because none of them seem to care much about pursuing anything serious, and they definitely don’t want a man taking care of them. I don’t sense that from this woman at all. She has a vulnerability about her that makes me want to wrap my arms around her and tell her everything will be okay. I’m a natural nurturer. It’s why I was drawn to medicine. But taking care of rowdy hockey players isn’t the same thing at all. I want a soft, sweet woman to take care of. In all ways.
The elevator arrives on the top floor and swooshes open. I put my arm across the elevator door and wait for Dani to exit first.
Crew immediately follows her like an eager puppy, his hand on the small of her back.
Crew’s obvious infatuation with her doesn’t bother me. I don’t need to compete. I know who I am and I know what I’m worth. Dani can make her own choice once she’s presented with it. Or hell, she doesn’t have to choose. If she wants to go out for beer and pizza with a young, cocky hockey player and then let me take her for candlelight dinners with champagne, she can have both initially.
Let her explore her options, try us both on for size.
I follow them to Nathan’s office and Crew doesn’t even pause to knock.
“Hey, Nate!” Crew greets as he ushers Dani across the threshold.
I can practically hear Nathan’s teeth grinding. No one calls him Nate. Especially not his players. Crew McNeill is damned lucky he’s good.
Fine, he’s really good. He’s one of the best. He could be one of the best to ever play if he stays focused, stays healthy, and takes it seriously.
All of those are up in the air, of course. He’s twenty-two, full of himself, and plays as if every night is going to be his last on the ice. He puts it all out there. Which is amazing. And scary as fuck.
“Mr. McNeill,” Nathan greets coolly as I enter behind them. “I didn’t realize I would have the pleasure of seeing you in person tonight.”
He says ‘pleasure’ in a tone that indicates it’s anything but.
“You’re welcome,” Crew tells him. “You can congratulate and thank me for the game in person this way.” Crew escorts Dani to one of the chairs in front of Nathan’s enormous walnut desk and then takes the one next to her.
Nathan is actually standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Chicago.
He meets my gaze and I give him a commiserating eye roll, then nod. Yes, Crew is a pain in the ass. But yes, he’s worth it. So far.
“Dr. Hughes. You’re here too,” he states. Not because anyone is unaware of my presence, but that’s his way of pointing out that he wasn’t expecting me and isn’t exactly pleased.
So he wanted to see Dani alone.
Interesting.
I was surprised when he’d texted to check in, but the PR angle of checking on a fan who was injured in a stunt with the mascot did ring true.
Now I’m not at all sure that was what is behind his desire to see her.
“Nathan, this is Danielle Larkin,” I say, moving to stand beside her. “Dani, this is Nathan Armstrong. The owner of the Racketeers.”
I look down at Dani and find her blushing. And this isn’t the sweet little pink stain I saw in the stands when I first held her face in my hands. Or the darker pink flush of desire on her cheeks after Crew kissed her—either time. This is a bright red blush of mortification.
What is going on?
Nathan is already moving around his desk toward her. “Miss Larkin,” he greets. “It’s nice to see you again.” He holds out his hand to her. “I assume Ben is getting home somehow? Alone?”
I lift a brow. He’s seen her before? Who the hell is Ben? And he definitely emphasized the Miss. He actually glances down at her ring finger checking for a rock. Now that’s totally unexpected.
“Uber. Yes, alone,” she says, her voice a mere whisper.
Surprised, I look down at her from my position next to the chair she’s in. She’s suddenly acting shy. And she’s not looking directly at Nathan, but at the view behind him. But she takes his hand, reluctantly it seems to me.
“I’m glad you didn’t get beer on this shirt,” he says. “But I’m happy to replace these jeans.” He lingers with her hand in his, far beyond the point of politeness, and his gaze tracks down her body.
She swallows hard. Twice. “That’s not necessary, Mr. Armstrong.”
She then removes her hand from his and crosses her arms over her chest as if she needs protection. She’s eyeing Nathan warily, and I don’t blame her. He’s coming off as very intense right now. I put my own hand on her shoulder to reassure her. Crew drops a palm onto her knee.
“Are you sure? It looked like they got really wet.”
I can’t believe he just said that. Given that Dani’s eyebrows shoot up, she can’t believe it either. “I… no. I mean. Yes. I’m sure.”
I don’t care how they met, he’s flustering her.
“Nathan,” I say, putting an edge to my voice. “Miss Larkin made herself clear.”
He gets the message, sitting back a little.
I don’t think Nathan is a bad guy at all, he’s just used to compliance from those around him. Sometimes he just needs to be reminded to back the fuck off.
“My apologies,” he said. “I just want to make sure you’re unharmed and satisfied with your Racketeers experience.”
“You didn’t tell me you were the team owner,” she says. Her tone is almost accusatory.
So they have met. But she didn’t know who he was. This is interesting. I have no idea how that scenario could have played out. It’s not like Nathan is generally accessible or that a woman like Danielle would have an opportunity to meet him. Certainly not where his identity wasn’t known.
It’s clear Nathan is interested in her, but instead of feeling jealous or competitive, I feel protective of her. Given the way she is reacting right now, I doubt she would be a good fit for a man like Nathan. He’s too domineering.
At any rate, I shift a little closer to her. “You two have met?” I ask, more to reassure her with my presence than because I care how they met.
Dani glances up at me and nods. “He upgraded my tickets. That’s how I wound up that close to the ice.”
I’m still not entirely sure how that happened but it doesn’t matter. They met.
Nathan props a hip on the edge of his desk directly in front of Dani rather than taking a seat in the huge leather chair behind his desk like he normally would. Like any professional would.
“What did you think of me?” he asks.
He’s also completely ignoring Crew. Crew scoots his chair even closer to Dani. The arms of their chairs are touching and he’s leaning into her personal space.
“That you worked in PR,” she answers. “You didn’t correct me. You didn’t tell me your last name either but I guess I didn’t notice because I was distracted by your…the tickets.”
Nathan gives her a knowing look that I don’t understand at all. What’s that about?
“If you would have read my note, you would have known who I was,” Nathan tells her.
She frowns. “What note?”
“The note with my gift.”
“You sent her a gift?” Crew asks.
Nathan doesn’t even glance at him.
“What gift?” Dani asks, looking truly confused.
Fuck, I’m really confused here too.
“The VIP ticket to join me in the owner’s box for a game.”
She swallows hard again. “Oh. I didn’t get it.”
“I know. I’ll replace it. Wade…” Nathan pauses and draws a breath in through his nose, sounding like he’s struggling to control his temper. “Sammy the mascot, was bringing that down to you when…everything happened.”
“Oh,” Dani says again. And then nothing more.
Crew’s hand tightens on her knee and now Nathan’s gaze drops to that hand. He scowls.
Dani puts a hand on her chest, over her heart, and it’s not just her cheeks that are red now. The flush is creeping down her throat to her chest.
Dani is being crowded from every angle. It’s a miracle she can even breathe. The tension in this room is so fucking thick I think we’re all having trouble taking a deep breath. Jesus. Everyone is being so fucking obvious. I glance at my own hand on her shoulder. Including me. I force myself to pull back, giving her space. One of us has to be the voice of reason here.
“I don’t think Dani has any lingering signs of a serious concussion,” I say, getting to the point of this meeting. Or what I thought was the point, anyway. Now I’m not so sure. “She seems fully coherent.” I look down at her. “She might have a bit of a headache tomorrow. I’ll give you my number,” I tell her directly. “You can call me any time with any questions or if anything comes up that you’re concerned about.”
When she looks up at me, she does meet my gaze directly and she smiles. I feel my chest tighten. She’s so damned pretty.
“Thank you, Dr. Hughes. That’s really nice of you.”
“Michael,” I say. “And I insist. In fact, I’d like your number too. I want to check in tomorrow and then again in a few days. Just to be sure you’re not having any residual symptoms.”
Crew pipes up. “I’ll be seeing her. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”
I look at him. He’ll be seeing her?
He clearly reads the question in my gaze. He leans back in his chair, but drapes an arm over the back of Dani’s. “Dani and my sister are besties. They live together. And they’re business partners. It’s no problem at all for me to see how Dani is first thing in the morning. Or to tuck her into bed at night.”
Real subtle. I don’t roll my eyes because I’m not getting into a dick measuring contest with this kid. “And where did you get your medical degree from?” I ask him. “Are you sure you know what to look out for and be concerned about?”
Okay, maybe I am going to get into a dick measuring contest with this kid.
It’s hard to ruffle him though. He grins. “I’ll be concerned if she calls me by some other dude’s name or something. Unless of course it’s, ‘Oh God’. I get that a lot.”
There is no end to this guy’s ego.
Dani gasps softly and she spins to look at Crew.
His cocky grin softens to something more affectionate and he reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You can also call out, “more” and “harder”. That won’t worry me at all. I’ll be more worried if you don’t.”
None of this bothers me, actually.
And it’s still not going to stop me from getting her number or asking her out.
“I didn’t realize Miss Larkin is your girlfriend,” Nathan says. His voice is practically a growl.
I snap my gaze to his. He’s staring at Dani, confirming my earlier suspicions. As if there were any doubts.
Nathan definitely wants her too.
Fucking fantastic.
Of course, there’s no way Nathan thinks she’s adorable. Adorable isn’t a Nathan word at all.
“She’s not,” Crew says, not taking his gaze off Dani. “Yet.”
Nathan makes another growling sound and stands, and I immediately jump in instinctively.
“Dani, can I offer you a ride home?” I ask. “I know your friend said you were going to take an Uber, but I’d like to be sure you’re still feeling well when you’re dropped off. You really shouldn’t be alone.”
Crew shakes his head. “I’ve got her.”
“I need to be sure she’s medically stable.”
“You just said a minute ago she’s fine.”
“I said she seems fine right now, but I want to keep monitoring her.”
“And I said I’d let you know if anything changes.”
We stare each other down. I’m a patient man. I can outlast him. His urge to make a move will be too great.
But it only lasts a second.
“You need to stay behind,” Nathan commands. He’s looking at Crew and he’s not happy. He looks like he could chew glass and like it. “We need to discuss you leaving the ice, holding up the start of play for ninety-seven seconds, and your impulse control.”
“Oh, that wasn’t Crew’s fault at all,” Dani says, suddenly leaning forward in her chair. Toward Nathan. But she looks genuinely worried. “Crew and Michael both came up to check on me. Crew was just goofing around and trying to make the whole thing less embarrassing for me. I was the one…” She stops. Swallows. Glances at Crew. Then says, her voice softer, “I was the one who really made that kiss too much and kept him up in the stands.”
Crew shifts forward and opens his mouth, but Dani’s hand goes to his leg just above his knee and she squeezes. He shuts up. I think more out of surprise than anything, but it works.
“Please don’t be mad at Crew, Mr. Armstrong,” she says.
Nathan is staring at her as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “My name is Nathan,” he growls softly. “Not Mr. Armstrong.”
“Nathan,” she says. “Please don’t fine him or bench him or whatever. It was all my fault.”
“The fuck it was–” But Crew is cut off by Dani squeezing his leg again.
“Crew and I are old friends,” she goes on. “It’s true that I live with his sister. I haven’t seen him in a while and we just reverted back to our old teasing ways. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Dani,” Crew says, his voice low and tight.
Clearly he doesn’t want to make that promise.
She glances at him. “You are so happy to be back here in Chicago, playing for Nathan’s team,” she says. It’s clear she’s giving Crew a you’d-better-go-along-with-this look. “We’ll behave in the future because I really do want to watch you play again in person. I don’t want Mr. Armstrong to banish me from the arena.”
“It’s Nathan,” Nathan says, clearly irritated and not sure what exactly to do or say. “I would never banish you from the arena.” He sounds perplexed.
Crew is also staring at her like he isn’t sure if he should argue with her or kiss her. He looks like he wants to do both. But finally he just nods. “We’ll try to behave,” he says.
I have to hide my smile. This woman has two of the cockiest, always-get-their-way, always-win men just staring at her and nodding.
She is something.
I hold my hand out to Dani. “Let me take you home.”
I wonder if she’s aware that there are three men essentially trying to claim her. Probably not. She doesn’t seem like a woman used to being romanced and seduced.
Or claimed.
That’s truly the best word. I’m not sure any of us has anything as sweet as romance or even seduction on our minds at this very moment.
Words like mine are what’s going through our heads.
After a heartbeat, she takes my hand and lets me pull her to her feet. She pauses and looks back at Crew. “It was wonderful to see you again.”
He gives her a grin. “Same. And we’ll see each other again soon.”
She just nods. Then turns her attention to Nathan. “It was nice to meet you. Don’t worry about my little tumble. I’m fine, honestly.”
Nathan gives her a single nod. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Danielle.”
I think I feel a little shiver go through her. That’s…interesting.
I don’t let go of her hand as I start for the door.
I don’t intend to let go of her until I have to.
Crew
Michael escorts Dani out of Nathan’s office.
Nathan glares at their backs like a man obsessed.
I’m pretty sure he is. And I’m pretty sure I know what–or rather who–he’s obsessed with.
Dani.
Both Michael and Nathan want Dani.
Just when I’ve figured out I want Dani.
Huh. This could be fun.
The door shuts behind them and Nathan immediately focuses on me.
“What the fuck were you thinking, McNeill?”
I sigh. “I just reacted. The fans loved it.”
“You delayed the game. I should fine you.”
I almost say ‘Dani asked you not to’. I think just maybe that would actually matter to him. Which is very interesting. Nathan Armstrong is not someone well-known for letting other people’s feelings and opinions matter. Instead, I frown. “It was a minute delay. And the fans loved it.”
“Do you know what that costs us from the network when we delay the team? By a minute and thirty seven seconds? A fuck ton, that’s how much it costs us.”
Of course he’s a guy who counts every single fucking second. “The fans loved it,” I repeat.
He scowls. “That’s all you care about?”
“No. We also won. And I scored all the goals. I also care very much about those two things.”
Nathan is still sitting on the front of his desk. I know he perched there earlier to be closer to Dani, but I have to admit it’s a power position. He’s higher than I am sitting in the chair in front of him. I’m caged in with the two arms of the chair. He’s bracing his hands on either side of him on the desk, his feet braced on the floor, knees spread.
The guy might be a rich asshole who’s nearly twenty years my senior, but he’s built solid and I know that if he wanted to make this physical, I’d be hurting tomorrow.
“But hockey is what you care about most,” he says after several seconds of silence. “Hockey is your true love.”
I nod. But there’s a strange feeling of trepidation niggling at the back of my neck. “Racketeers hockey,” I clarify. After all, this guy is my boss. But it’s true that I am now playing for the team. The one I grew up wanting to play for. I’m wearing the jersey that was in every one of my daydreams when I was a kid out on the ice, pretending I was competing for the Stanley Cup.
Nathan gives me a single nod. I gave the right answer.
“Do you have Danielle’s phone number?” he asks. It should seem out of the blue, but it doesn’t. We’re both very aware of the subject of this particular meeting. And it’s not the ninety-seven seconds I cost the team. It’s the reason I cost the team ninety-seven seconds.
“I…” I don’t want to answer this. I have this weird feeling that giving her number to Nathan Armstrong is going to impact my life in ways I don’t even understand. That’s very woo-woo for me. That sounds a lot more like my sister. But I definitely feel like I’m at a fork in a road I didn’t even know I was on. “I can get it,” I finally say. I can text Luna and have it within minutes.
He gives me another nod. “Get it.”
I hesitate. Then I take a deep breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I meet his gaze directly as I say it.
He lifts a brow. “I didn’t ask for your opinion on it.”
No, he didn’t. “Dani is an old friend,” I say. “I can tell her you want it and let her decide if she wants you to have it.” I’m not sure I even want to do that, but fuck, I can’t make decisions for Dani.
“Get me her number, Crew,” Nathan says firmly. “Right now.”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. Nathan Armstrong could fire me. But he won’t.
Probably.
I’m valuable to him. To this team. To his chances of having a championship. I know he inherited the team from his grandfather. I’ll bet he wants to make grandpa proud.
I’m his key to that.
“No,” I say.
He actually looks surprised for a moment. I’m guessing that’s a word Nathan doesn’t hear much. But I wonder if he’s surprised it’s coming from me. I’m well known as an easy-going, if cocky, fun-loving, good guy. I can be mean on the ice as needed, but I’m a crowd pleaser, great for PR, great for big fan events, great with kids. I’m not an enforcer. I don’t start fights. I’ll fight back if someone swings first. If someone goes after my goalie, I’ll absolutely be in the pile. But my trash talk is more about how fucking good I am and how they all want to be me, rather than about anybody’s mama.
But Nathan wants something I want and I’m okay with sharing, but I’m not okay with him having her all to himself. And he needs to know it.
“I own you,” he finally says.
“You do,” I agree with a nod.
We stare at each other for a long period. Then he says, “What do you want?”
I cock a brow. “You’ll negotiate for her number?”
He doesn’t seem happy about it, but he says, “I will.”
Nathan Armstrong is the youngest owner in the league. He’s also known as the biggest asshole. But he’s willing to negotiate with his newest, young, hot shot player, who he’s pissed at, for a woman’s phone number.
That means he does really want her.
Huh.
I’m open to anything where people are having a good time, feeling good, and no one’s getting hurt. Especially people I care about.
I care about Dani.
But I want to make her my girlfriend. I’m pretty sure my forty-something year old boss, the billionaire owner of my hockey team, is not thinking quite the same thing about her.
That’s fine. They can have fun, if that’s what Dani wants. But he has to understand that I’m in this for real.
Still, Dani really is the only one who can actually tell him no.
I pull my phone out and text Luna.
Ask Dani if I can have her number.
I pause and sigh. Then text again.
And if I can give it to Nathan Armstrong too.
Then I look up at Nathan. “Here’s the deal,” I say. “I want to date her. I’m serious. I want a chance at a relationship with her. So, if she sits in the owner’s box with you for a game, she wears my jersey. You will not hurt her. And no means no. About anything.”
He narrows his eyes. “Absolutely not on the jersey.”
A text from Luna pings my phone.
She said yes *smiling emoji* You better be good to her, Crew.
Then she adds a phone number. My heart thumps hard and I can’t help but smile.
But then I look up at Armstrong. I wiggle my phone. “That’s the deal,” I tell Nathan.
There are probably twenty-six other ways he could go about getting her number. But after five ticks, he scowls, and says, “Fine.”
Okay. We have an agreement. I hand over Dani’s phone number to the asshole billionaire owner of the Chicago Racketeers.
Then plan to take her one of my jerseys first thing tomorrow.
