Playing to Win(16)

"I'm good, thanks."

And for once, Holly actually was.

She glanced at the stats filling the left side of her notebook-the list had been right about the spread again tonight.

She might not be great at family stuff, but she was a damn good  reporter. And soon, she'd have the evidence to prove it. Even if that  evidence pointed at Luke.

* * *

LUKE LOOSENED HIS tie and tried to rearrange himself in a more  comfortable position in the posh airplane seat. Both games had turned  out just like the list in his pocket had predicted.

He glanced around the dimly-lit cabin. In fact, the mood was pretty  low-key, despite their back-to-back wins in Colorado. Probably because  they'd eked out some pretty ugly victories against a team they should  have crushed. He was still surprised they'd held on to a 3 – 2 win  tonight.                       
       
           


       

J.C. was snoring beside him. Most everyone else was plugged into a  movie or talking with seatmates. Except for Eric, who was sitting toward  the front of the plane, all by himself, reading a book, as usual.

He liked Eric Jacobs. He was a great hockey player, and the game really mattered to him.

And he was low-key off the ice-no tabloid stories of drunken debauchery  or chronic womanizing. He didn't love being on camera, but he didn't  complain about the obligatory interviews, either. Still, he'd seemed  particularly aloof lately.

With the weight of his C heavy on his chest, Luke got up and walked over to him.

"Mind if I sit down?"

Jacobs glanced up from his book. "Sure." He opened his right hand to  reveal a chain looped through two expensive-looking rings. Luke watched  as he placed the necklace reverently between the pages of his spy  thriller like a bookmark before shoving the book in the pocket in front  of him. "What's up, Mags?"

"Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing," Luke confessed, taking a seat.

"Nothing really." Eric ran a hand through his dark blond hair. "I'm fine."

"Cubs, we both know that's bullshit. How long have we been playing together?"

"Two years."

"Exactly. You think I can't tell when something's up with my linemate?"

Eric was toying with the bottom of his matte gray tie and refused to meet Luke's stare.

"Let's not make this any worse than it has to be. Just be straight with  me. You know I've got your back. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

There was a long, ominous stretch of silence. The piece of yellow legal paper weighed heavy on Luke's mind.

Then Eric heaved a sigh of defeat. "It's nothing like that. It's just...family stuff."

Luke kept his gaze steady and waited.

Cubs dropped the end of his tie and turned to face him. "My grandma's in the hospital. She had a heart attack."

"Jesus. Eric, I'm really sorry to hear that." Eric's parents had died  when he was really young, and his grandmother, Stella Jacobs, had raised  him ever since. She'd become the unofficial grandma of the Portland  Storm and when she was in the stands to cheer them, a round of cupcakes  from her bakery always made their way to the dressing room to announce  her presence. "Is she going to be okay?"

Eric shrugged, and the gesture had an air of helplessness about it.  "The doctors won't say. She seems to be doing better. She pretty much  forced me to come on this road trip." He smiled a little when he said  it, and Luke had a vivid vision of tiny, white-haired Stella bossing her  six-foot grandson around, even from the confines of a hospital bed.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I don't want to talk about it. And I definitely don't want reporters asking."

"I understand wanting to keep the family stuff under wraps. I won't object if you're sure you want to keep playing."

There was no hesitation in Eric's nod. "It's the play-offs. And I get  that this is stupid, but I want to win for her, you know?"

Oh, Luke knew all right. It was what drove him every single day. He  wanted that championship, wanted to win it so badly. Not for himself,  but for the brother who'd lost his shot at the dream they'd shared their  whole lives. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I get that."

And he did. Which was why he was so shocked when Holly's voice echoed  in his mind. Sometimes you just have to keep it simple and play the game  for you.

* * *

THE TEAM WAS already out on the ice for practice when she arrived at  the arena the day after the Storm had knocked Colorado out of the  play-offs with a 4 – 2 win at home. Because of the celebration and the  increased media interest, the team captain had been too busy for her to  snag an interview last night, but today, well, it was only a matter of  time before they ran into each other, and her nerves were on edge for  the reunion    .

Holly was standing in the players' bench-Orgasm Central, as her dirty  mind had taken to calling it. She was trying to keep her voice even, her  blush under control and her eyes from wandering over to the practice  happening on the ice behind her. Not because she cared about the  practice but because of the overwhelming desire to check if maybe Luke  was having as much trouble concentrating as she was.                       
       
           


       

It took three tries before she managed to get through the intro to the  car interview montage without messing up. She could tell Jay was  relieved when she finally nailed it by the speed at which he was  gathering his video equipment. "Okay, I'm just going to run upstairs to  get a few more angles on the practice. Give me ten minutes and we can go  for lunch."

Holly nodded. "Okay. I'll text Paige and tell her we'll be at the restaurant in about half an hour."

"Aw, Paige is coming?" Jay whined.

"Suck it up, Buchanan. You know she is."

"Fine. Not sure why we have to ruin a perfectly good lunch, though. I'll meet you at the car in fifteen minutes."

She pulled her phone out of her bra, its usual storage space when she  was dolled up in a skirt suit, and texted their ETA to Paige.

Her friend immediately returned the text with one that predictably read: Aw, Jay is coming?

"Holly."

She almost dropped her phone at the sound of the familiar deep voice  saying her name. With a deep breath to restore her composure, she turned  around. Luke, sweaty and gorgeous in his Storm practice jersey, was  standing on the other side of the bench. Her stomach lurched at the  sheer handsomeness of him. Clearly her body was ready to start on Orgasm  Central: The Sequel.

"Hey. I didn't know we had interviews scheduled for today."

"Oh, we don't. Jay wanted to get some practice footage, and we filmed a quick intro to the car interview bit."

Luke's eyes darkened in a way that shot heat right through her core. So  apparently she wasn't the only one haunted by the sexy ghosts of  lovemaking past.

He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, and when his eyes met  hers, he had the air of a man who'd come to a decision. His next words  confirmed what that decision was.

"Look, I wanted to ask, do you think maybe I could buy you dinner tonight?"

Holly wouldn't have been more shocked if a hockey-stick-wielding alien had burst through the logo on his broad chest.

"As per my contract, we can't really be seen cavorting about town," she reminded him.

He nodded. "I remember. I was going to suggest takeout at my place. I'll pick you up around five thirty?"

Holly cocked an eyebrow at the time.

"Play-offs," he reminded her with a grin and a shrug. "I've got curfew, so we'll have to get an early start."

Holly couldn't help but laugh. "Didn't I go on this date in the seventh grade?"

"Yeah, well. You pick a career that twelve-year-old boys dream of,  turns out that sometimes you get treated like a twelve-year-old boy."

"So there is justice in the world after all," she joked. "It's not all big paychecks, fast cars and constant adoration."

"It's definitely not all that," Luke agreed, and she caught a somber  note in his deep voice. Before she had a chance to examine it, he barged  through the moment. "So I'll see you tonight?"

"Sure."

His smile was endearingly self-conscious. Not the smile she'd expected  from a professional athlete blessed with a big salary and the good looks  to back up some swagger. "I gotta get to practice. Five thirty. Don't  forget."

Holly watched him skate off to rejoin his team, her phone clutched to her heart and a single thought running through her head.

Oh, shit.





8

"HE ASKED ME OUT."

"Who?"

"Luke Maguire."

The answer brought two very different reactions from her lunch  companions. Jay stopped in the middle of eating his nachos, his mouth  agape. Paige continued the act of buttering her roll and barely glanced  up as she repeated, "Who?"