“Come to more games and you’ll be sure,” Vlad stated confidently.
“We’ll see.” She wouldn’t let herself be drawn further.
As the bantering conversation continued around her, Maggie settled back, enjoying the comfortable weight of Jake’s arm across her shoulders.
His thigh brushed against hers. Her pulse skipped, then raced.
Comfort became something else. Something hotter, building on the need that had simmered within since that kiss. Desire danced through her, making her core ache and throb with moist heat.
Jake’s teasing smile died.
Her tongue slipped out to moisten her parched lips. She could still taste him, just a hint. She wanted to taste him again.
He leaned closer. His fingers caressed her shoulder, stoking the fire within.
She edged toward him, her lips parting in anticipation.
“Hello, gentlemen.” A throaty voice curled around them, like the tendrils of smoke from a vamp’s cigarette in a film noir.
Maggie recognized the blonde—Jenny, queen of the puck bunnies. The players welcomed her with enthusiasm as she walked around the table greeting them.
“Ice Man. Chance. Blade.” Each name was accompanied by a touch, a brush against a shoulder, a tap on the arm. “Mad Dog.”
Vlad grinned as she reached him. “Remember me, Jenny?”
“Detroit. The natural hat trick.” Her eyes twinkled. “You scored the overtime winner with fourteen seconds left.”
“A memorable night.” From the Russian’s tone, he didn’t mean the goal.
Jenny laughed. She trailed a French-tipped finger along his shoulder, then moved on. “Juergen Ingemar. I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“We must put that right.” He wasn’t talking about hockey, either.
The woman was amazingly self-confident. She spoke easily to the players, alternately teasing and flirting. How would she treat Jake with Maggie there?
Maggie’s stomach gave a little twist. She told herself not to be silly. It’s not like there was anything between her and Jake. Yet.
Jenny dropped a kiss on Ike’s head. “You dropped too early on that wrister.”
“I know.” He sighed. “I thought he was going five-hole.”
“Portnoy can’t get his shot off quickly enough to get it through your legs. He always roofs it.”
Ike tilted his head. “Really?”
“Watch game tape.” There was her supreme confidence again.
“I will. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
“Truman.” Clipped, cold. Dismissive.
Maggie was surprised when Jenny moved past Tru with no smile, touch or banter.
“Jenny.” The easygoing man shifted in his seat, his attention focused with rigid determination on the burrito platter.
“I hear you’re starting next game, Bad Boy.” The blonde grinned at Jake.
Maggie was relieved to see he greeted Jenny like the old friend he’d said she was.
“Yeah. I need ice time before the season starts.” He then introduced Maggie to Jenny.
She braced herself, but instead of antagonism in the blonde’s eyes, there was only mild curiosity. And recognition.
Maggie stiffened.
“Nice to meet you.” The blonde smiled. “Hope Bad Boy’s treating you right.”
“So far, so good.”
“If he misbehaves, I’ve got blackmail info that’ll get him back in line.”
“You’re on.” Maggie grinned.
“You’re not supposed to gang up on me,” Jake grumbled.
“We girls always stick together.” Jenny slid a chair in beside Maggie.
As the conversation around them returned to hockey, the two women chatted. It didn’t take long for Maggie to discover that she liked the blonde. Jenny seemed different from the hard-edged groupies who’d hung around Lee. She sensed a deeper story lay behind the woman’s actions.
“So you were married to that jerk of a soccer player,” Jenny said quietly.
“You know who I am,” she said flatly.
“I didn’t recognize you at first. The hair and everything.” She waved a hand at Maggie’s outfit. “I’m a sucker for gossip magazines, and the English ones are more lurid than ours.”
Maggie softened at the blonde’s self-deprecating smile. “As long as they’re not writing about me, I can’t resist them, either.”
Jenny touched her arm. “It took a lot of courage to leave that bastard. Believe me, I know all about abusive bullies. I really wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine when I saw those pictures of you leaving hospital—the bruises, the stitches and your arm in a cast.”
“Thank you.” Maggie’s eyes stung at the unexpected support.