Playing to Win(17)

Holly took a bracing chug of Heineken. "The shirtless hockey player  from the Sports Illustrated magazine your eyes were glued to a couple of  days ago."

"The superhot dreamy one with the bedroom eyes and the washboard abs?"

"He's not that hot," Jay countered gruffly.

"Please. That man is a god."

Jay took a huffy bite of nacho.

"Wait a minute! Is Abs Maguire your sex crush?"

Jay cringed. "Do I really need to be here for this?"                       
       
           


       

"Hush, Jay. This is important lady business. So what did you say?"

"I'm not an idiot, Paige."

"Great. So if you said yes, then I don't understand the problem."

That was the more complicated part. "The problem is that a high  concentration of shame is eating through my stomach lining as we speak."  Holly took the final swig of Dutch beer. "I'm contractually obligated  to lie to him...about my hockey knowledge," she hedged. She hadn't told  either of her best friends about her suspicions of illegal betting, and  the realization that she was lying to everyone she cared about made her  feel worse. "I have a guilt ulcer."

"What's to feel guilty about? You're a beautiful, single woman, and  he's a rich, single man who looks like he knows how to wield his hockey  stick. Let's not kid ourselves, Hol. You need to get laid. Jay and I,  mortal enemies that we are, have actually discussed hiring a male escort  just to put you out of your misery."

Jay winced. "No, we haven't."

Paige's raised eyebrow confirmed that they had.

"I swear, you guys. How is it even possible to be so close to your dream job and yet light-years away?"

She reached over and took an unladylike gulp of Paige's red wine, then  did her best not to spew it across the table. "Oh, gawd! How do you  drink this stuff?" she demanded, gratefully tearing the bottle of  Pilsner Jay held in her direction from his hand and drowning out the  obnoxious taste of merlot with luscious, cold beer.

Shrugging, Paige took a perfect, dainty sip of her wine. "Well, I'm proud of you for putting your lady bits first for once."

"Oh, man! I'm trying to eat here," Jay complained.

"And vaginas disgust you?" Paige asked. "You can't possibly ingest food  around women who are discussing them, even though men talk about their  penises constantly?"

"What? How did my junk get brought into this conversation? Nobody said anything about dicks."

Holly groaned. "Would you two just sleep together already and get rid of the sexual tension? It's exhausting."

"Ewww!" Their disgust was expressed loudly and simultaneously. "That  would be like kissing my-" The words "sister" and "dog" overlapped.

Their affronted expressions were almost identical, not that Holly would offend either of them by saying so.

"Seriously, Jay? Your sister? She has a mustache."

"Kissing me is like kissing a dog?"

"Except for the fact that I could muster some enthusiasm for kissing an adorable dog, yes, I imagine so."

Jay cocked an eyebrow. "So you have imagined kissing me, then?"

"You. Wish." Paige held up a hand. "I'm going to pretend you're not  here." To Holly, she said, "I'm still not seeing the problem."

"Paige, game analysis isn't just criticism. There are a lot of moving  pieces to a game. Line matchups, hot streaks, underperforming players,  team morale. And when you get millions of dollars to play a game, you  have to understand that there will be some scrutiny. But I'm a  professional, and that means I can't let my personal feelings interfere  with my ability to do my job."

Something that she would do well to remember, Holly decided.

Paige nodded, but Holly didn't like the sly smile on her face. "Tell me more about these personal feelings you're having."

"And now I'm going to pretend you're not here."

"You'd better be thanking your lucky stars that I'm here. Otherwise  you'd probably end up wearing some ripped jeans, a ratty T-shirt and a  ball cap on your date tonight."

Holly looked down at her stupid skirt suit. "Well, I'm definitely not wearing this."

Paige smiled. "I'm sure we can find a happy medium. Hurry up and finish your nachos, Jay. We've got work to do."

* * *

THERE WERE BUTTERFLIES in her stomach as she crawled into Luke's truck.  He'd rolled up to her curb at five thirty sharp, just as he said he  would.

"Wow. You look great."                       
       
           


       

The compliment meant a lot, because it was the first time she'd hung  out with Luke feeling even remotely like the real her. Paige had  sanctioned Holly's pick of a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and a white  T-shirt. But in exchange, Holly had relented and worn the strappy nude  heels and the jade statement necklace Paige had insisted upon.

"Thanks. It feels like I haven't worn pants in ages."

"Well, to celebrate the Portland Storm making it through the first  round of play-offs and your long-awaited return to wearing pants, we can  have any kind of takeout you want."

"Wow. Living the high life."

Luke nodded as he pulled away from the curb. "Tonight, the world is ours."

Two hours later, Luke, Holly, two mostly decimated pizzas and two  bottles of beer were spread out across the living room floor of Luke's  swanky-but not quite as swanky as she'd been expecting-apartment. They'd  just finished watching a chase movie that was heavy on explosions and  fast cars and light on plot. Holly was pretty sure she'd never been on a  better date. Until he said-

"I have a confession to make."

Holly's stomach bottomed out and she choked on her beer.

Luke's brow creased with concern. "You okay?"

She nodded, coughing as she set her bottle back on the coffee table.  "Yeah. Just went down the wrong way. Sorry. You were saying?"

The nervous look on his face made her gut twist into knots. Her palms prickled with moisture.

No. Please don't let it be Luke who's throwing games.

"I had a bit of an ulterior motive for inviting you for dinner."

The beat of silence scraped across her nerves. She hadn't realized how  much she was hoping Luke was innocent of point-shaving. And now, here  they were, after an amazing couple of hours together, and it was all  about to fall apart.

"Tomorrow I'm heading home to Millerville for the sledge hockey  finals," he said, reaching for his own beer. "These kids have worked so  hard. And if they win this weekend, they're going to the state finals. I  told them I might not be able to make it, but now that we've wrapped up  the series and I have a week off, I asked for two days' leave," he  explained.

He picked absently at the label on the bottle in his hands and took a deep breath. "And I was wondering if you'd come with me."

Holly couldn't quite process the words. There was a buzzing in her ears  as she reexamined the last few minutes. "You plied me with pizza and  beer because you want me to go to your hometown with you?"

Luke nodded before draining the last of his drink and leaning forward.  "I was kind of hoping you'd do a little story on the team. You know,  interview them, give them a taste of what it's like to deal with the  media. They'd love that."

Holly couldn't hold back a smile at how animated Luke was at the  mention of the kids who were part of his pet charity. She'd done a lot  of research about it for her Hockey Hottie of the Month shtick.

Kids on Wheels was a top-notch organization that did an amazing job  assisting kids with physical disabilities. She admired the genuine joy  on Luke's face when he talked about it. It made her want to say yes,  except...

"I don't have anywhere to stay. And Jay's filming a wedding this weekend."

"My parents have plenty of room. And we can just film the interviews on  my phone. It doesn't have to be fancy. I just wanted to give the team  some professional hockey league experience, you know?"

Holly shook her head to clear it. Did he just say what I thought he just said?

"You want me to stay at your parents'?"

"Yeah, well, my mother would kill me if I rented a hotel room, so  consider Casa Maguire like a bed-and-breakfast, but with more parental  interference."

"You had me at breakfast." The words were out of her mouth before she'd  realized she said anything. Because she liked Luke. She wanted to go  with him. And it scared her that, for the first time in her life, she  was willing to put her job-even one as banal as asking hockey players  what kind of underwear they wore-on the line for someone else.