Good Guy

by Kate Meader

  “Sure. And I’m Lucy.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lucy. Thanks for letting me stick around.” Jordan headed out and stowed the plates at the end of the counter.

  Levi was smiling at one of the patrons while he piled his plate high with scrambled eggs and bacon.

  “Need any help?”

  Levi peered down at her, all traces of cheer evaporating. “Thought you were on dish duty.”

  “I was so good I already got a promotion.”

  “All right, then, super sleuth. How’d you find out I was here?”

  She smiled. “Can’t reveal my sources.”

  “Kershaw?”

  Which led to a call to Tommy, Levi’s agent, who was more forthcoming, given that he didn’t understand Levi’s motivation to keep it under wraps. “I already told him that shit is perfect publicity, Jordan!” She made a lips-zipped motion across her mouth.

  He shook his head but his eyes lingered on her mouth. And lingered. And that, friends, was exactly why she’d been avoiding him for the last few days.

  “You’re killing me, Cooke.”

  “I don’t mean to! I even wore my least sexy outfit so there’d be no risk of temptation.”

  “That’s your least sexy outfit? Leggings that make your ass look like a dream?”

  She preened a touch, might even have cocked her hip for maximum ass-displaying effect. “It’s just an ass. Nothing to see here.”

  “I’ve missed you in my bed,” he murmured, all gravelly and sexy.

  Oh, baby. “Well, technically it was the Hilton’s bed.” When he just kept up the Levi-intensity, she added guiltily, “And we—we can’t.”

  “’Cause it was a mistake?”

  “No, never that. It just wouldn’t look good if someone found out.” She bit down on her lip, not liking the conclusion but resigned to living with it.

  He swore and moved along the line to help someone. Coming to her senses, she looked up to find a bearded man with fierce blue eyes staring at her intently.

  “Hey, there. Would you like some eggs?”

  He smiled, then offered a quick nod.

  “Joe, good to see you, man,” Levi said, back in her space. “Getting worried about you.”

  “I was down in the Bahamas for a while. Just got off the jet.”

  Levi laughed, which made Jordan turn her head in surprise. Seeming to realize his mistake, he frowned at her. “Not a word.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” She turned back to the man, who was still waiting on his eggs. “Hi, I’m Jordan.” Should she be telling her name to the strange homeless man? She wasn’t sure of the etiquette here, but Levi seemed to like him. He seemed to like Lucy, too.

  Huh, Levi liking people. What was that about?

  Gently, he nudged her aside and built a mountain of food on the plate. “Here you go. We can chat later if you like.”

  The man merely nodded, took his plate, and went on his way.

  “One of your favorites?”

  “Just one of the guests.” Levi was still standing close, his exposed forearm touching hers. Thick as her calf, it had the perfect proportion of dark, springy hair. Thank God she’d pulled up her sleeve so she didn’t miss any of the electricity.

  It was the little things.

  “You seemed friendly.”

  “Merely giving him the respect he deserves. He’s a vet.”

  She side-eyed him, wanting to see in profile that serious, intent look on his face, the one he got when he was focused on a problem or a play or … her. She’d missed it and even though he no longer would give it to her, for her, she’d enjoy it vicariously.

  He caught her looking at him. There was no softening, which is what she’d wanted at one time, a hint that he was human. She was starting to understand that this was Levi’s default expression. Intense, driven, on fire, and possibly more expressive of his humanity than a smile or laugh.

  “You really care about these people, don’t you?”

  “There’s no story here, Jordan. Just doing a good deed, like plenty of others.”

  There was something else. Something that held the key to Levi Hunt, and she was determined to oil the rusted-over lock.

  * * *

  “Hi there!” Jordan plunked down opposite Joe, the homeless guy—though here they called them guests—who Levi had seemed to connect with earlier.

  He looked over his shoulder dramatically, then back to her. “Hi yourself.”

  “How’s it going today?”

  “Better now that I’ve had breakfast.”

  “Oh, I brought over a donut.” She pushed the napkin-wrapped pastry forward. “Figured no breakfast can finish right without a little sweet.”

  “That’s a good rule.” He took the package and placed it in his pocket. “You friends with Levi?”

  Good, he brought it up so she didn’t have to make the awkward segue. “I know him.” Close up, she could see that he was younger than she’d assumed. More like mid-twenties.

  “So, I saw you guys talking earlier. Seems like you’re someone he pays attention to around here.”

  “Wouldn’t say that. He’s a worrier, is all.”

  “He got reason to be?”

  He sniffed and sipped his coffee. “Gettin’ colder, so he probably wants to make sure I’ve got my ducks lined up. He knows what—”

  “Hey, you guys plotting something?”

  Jordan looked up into Levi’s blue eyes, now flashing like a fire engine siren in warning. “Just how to snag more donuts without Warden Lucy watching.”

  Joe chuckled. Levi did not.

  “Could I have a word?” Levi squeezed her shoulder, giving her no option but to obey. He steered her over to the coffee section. “Whatcha doin’?”

  “Just chatting.”

  “Jordan …”

  “Don’t be so suspicious, Levi. I’m here to help and maybe see what makes you tick.”

  “Told you before. I’m an open book.”

  She snorted. “Are you kidding? The only time you were open is when you—” She stopped right there, thankyouverymuch.

  “When I what?” His eyes lit up in recognition, a smirk teasing his lips. “You think that’s the way into my brain? You think having me explode inside your body will get me to be more responsive to your probing questions? I can guarantee that the path to my mind is not through my dick.”

  “Oh, I dunno, you were fairly chatty in the post-coital phase.”

  “Is that going in the profile?”

  She shook her head, marveling at his ability to be sweet and flirty while uttering such dirty, delicious words. “Trying to keep it separate. Professional.”

  “It’s hard, though, right?” He stepped closer, bringing with him a sexy menace she hadn’t realized was missing from her life. “Tell me this is as hard for you as it is for me.”

  She peered up at him, taking in his rough-hewn jaw, his sharp cheekbones, his blaze-intense eyes, so blue, so hurting with lust. Desire licked through her, not the sweet tingle of wouldn’t-it-be-nice, but the savage burn of need.

  Nodding, she surrendered to the moment and let herself bask in the consensus between them. It felt good to agree on something even if no joy could come of it.

  “You’ve been thinking about it? About that night?”

  “Of course. Believe me, I don’t have much of a sex life. When I get some half-decent action, it keeps me going for weeks. Months.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Look, that’s not to say I’ve been thinking about you specifically—”

  “No?” He stepped in further, imposing but not scaring. Her heart jumped all the same. “You think about mouths and fingers and touching and tasting, but there’s no face or voice? I’m not even the one delivering the goods?” He looked incredulous as well he should.

  “Just thinking about the act itself,” she said, deflecting. “Not the actor.”

  Somewhere between his pointed offense and her sloppy defense, his mask slipped. He’d thought of something—dam
n, he was always thinking of something—but hell if he’d share it with her.

  “What, Levi?” She placed a hand on his arm and he pulled away.

  “Think it’s time you headed out. You’ve had your fun. Show’s over.”

  Show’s over? “Are you seriously evicting me from the homeless shelter?”

  “I’m saying it’s time you were on your way and I’d appreciate it if you kept what you’ve seen here to yourself. This isn’t going in that damn article. Just stick to fucking hockey.”

  What had happened here? One minute they’d been luxuriating in the lovely sensation of mutual, frustrating-as-all-get-out lust, the next he was steering her out the door. Literally.

  Strong, formerly orgasm-producing fingers curled around her arm and march, march, march.

  “Levi, what’s going on?”

  He’d already turned away.

  16

  Levi slid the puck to Petrov on his left and skated too far ahead to get the pass-back. Because it was that kind of day.

  “Open your freakin’ eyes, Hunt,” Coach yelled. “That’s the third pass you’ve missed.”

  “You okay, New Guy?” Vadim skated close enough so the query was unheard by the rest of the team.

  “Just not firing on all cylinders, Cap. Sorry, I’ll get there.”

  The big Russian patted him on the back. “I know. But maybe get there soon before Coach has a heart attack.”

  Focus, man. He needed to excise from his brain everything not related to hockey which was a big ask when all he wanted to do was think about Jordan.

  Levi was under no illusions about what she wanted. He was the itch she needed to scratch, the story she needed to tame. Whether she knew it or not, she’d poked him with that comment, the one where she wasn’t fantasizing about him, only about sex in general. As if it didn’t matter who was delivering her orgasms.

  It made him think that maybe, just maybe, she had someone else in mind when they’d slept together and whenever she thought of it since.

  Maybe she was thinking of Josh.

  They’d talked so little about Cookie since reconnecting, a deliberate tactic on Levi’s part. He didn’t want to suffer through the obvious comparisons. He didn’t want her thinking of her husband while she was with Levi. And he certainly didn’t want to think too hard about having the hots—and maybe more—for his friend’s widow.

  He’d been doing a pretty good job of staying in denial so far. The truth was he wanted more from Jordan. Getting a taste should have satisfied him—it was way more than he deserved—but no. She was the thirst he couldn’t quench.

  For the next hour, he put his head down, his stick to the ice, and he bashed every puck like it was a demon he could destroy.

  You’re not worthy of this shot in the pros. Whack.

  Jordan is only interested in you for the story. Thump.

  It should have been you on that mission. Bash.

  Amazing what a little self-loathing can do for your game. By the end of morning skate, he was back in Coach’s good graces and wasn’t getting weird looks from the rest of the team—at least no weirder than usual.

  They were playing Nashville at home tonight, so he headed back to his place for a nap. Opening his front door, he found Elle on her laptop with the screen facing him. She snapped it closed, but … was that a grid of shirtless guys?

  “Need some alone time?”

  Her mouth gaped. “What? No! Of course not!” She shot a guilty glance at her laptop. “What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the day? Thought you had practice.”

  “I’m here in the place where I live, for a bite to eat and a nap. Wasn’t expecting a porn party in my living room. Just don’t make a mess, okay?”

  “Hunt, I am not looking at porn! Not that there’s anything wrong with that but if I was I’d have the decency to do it in private.”

  Struck by another option, he folded his arms. “Was that a dating site?”

  “It was nothing.” She stood and headed toward the kitchen. “Want a sandwich? I went grocery shopping this morning.”

  “Sure. Let me know what I owe you.” He followed her in. “Did you get that Gouda that Kershaw likes?”

  “Yeah, yeah. That guy’s eating you out of house and home, you know.”

  “He’s just a kid. I think he misses his grandma.” Levi leaned against the kitchen island, watching Elle take out the sandwich ingredients.

  “You were always a soft touch, Hunt.” She grinned to let him in on the joke. Chez Hunt, home for Waifs and Strays.

  “So, I need advice. A woman’s opinion.”

  Pulling her T-shirt neckline out, she checked inside. “Still a card-carrying female. Shoot.”

  “I was kind of a jerk. To Jordan.”

  “About the profile?”

  “That, and well, I might have a thing for her.”

  He had to give it to her. She didn’t look smug or immediately utter I-told-you-so, though she’d be within her rights to.

  “Jerk to the girl you have a crush on. Sounds on brand.”

  He deserved that. “We got together in New York.”

  “And the problem is?”

  He walked to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “It was a one-time deal. It’s tricky for her, ethics-wise. Can’t be seen with the subject of a story.” Also, she’d set aside her career aspirations for the love of her life seven years ago. No way would she let a man derail her again, and understandably so. A niggling voice acknowledged it was more than that, but he’d keep it simple for today’s lesson. “I threw a mini-tantrum about it. Didn’t explain it to her so well.” Or at all.

  She bent her head in sympathy. “You can see her side, right? Screwing around with her story might make her look bad. But hey, screwing around in secret is also kind of hot or so I hear. Maybe it’s not a complete disaster?”

  Maybe. But even if he could convince Jordan to take another spin on the Levi love-coaster while keeping it on the down low, could he trust his heart not to get the upper hand over his dick?

  Heart vs. Dick. A cage match for the ages.

  “I need to fix things.”

  “What a very male thing to say.” Elle slathered Hellman’s on the whole wheat bread like she was celebrating the end of a mayo drought, then dropped in a few spinach leaves to make it healthy. “I assume you’re underplaying this and that you were a monster to Jordan, so first you should apologize for being a total and utter dick. Then you need to figure out your hard limit. Should you be shutting these little tête-à-têtes down because it sucks to be around this woman who doesn’t want you the same way? Are you going to take your butt-hurt feelings out on her because she’s established the boundaries and you don’t like them? Or are you going to be a fucking grown-up and own your shit?”

  “Wow, so glad we chatted.”

  She smiled. “See, that wasn’t hard! Now, work the knife, Hunt. That cheese isn’t going to slice itself.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, Jordan still wanted to throw something. Anything.

  She paced her apartment, realizing that she should have just gone into the Chicago SportsNet offices, but needing familiar surroundings to center herself after what had happened this morning.

  What had happened?

  She replayed the conversation with Levi. Something about not thinking of him, thinking of sex but not with him, thinking of anyone as a stand-in. Was the man that humor-deficient that he couldn’t see right through her ridiculous charade?

  I’m fluent in body language, Jordan.

  Apparently not, Sergeant.

  Of course she’d done nothing but think of him since New York. Every waking second was spent with Levi Hunt’s built-to-please-her body pleasing her in her fantasy. The vibrator wasn’t holding up its end of the bargain either—she needed a real, live man.

  She needed Levi.

  It couldn’t happen, so she’d brushed her desires aside. Did he not see the difference? Weren’t men supposed to be ea
sy to figure out? Why did this one insist on breaking her lady brain?

  She had just set the coffee pot to do its thing when a knock on her door pulled her out of her thought ditch. Pulse quickening, she groaned at the sight on her threshold.

  “Sorry, we’re all stocked up on dickheads, thanks.”

  Levi’s stupid, hockey-playing foot stopped her door from slamming in his stupid, hockey-playing face.

  “I’m busy, Levi. And how the hell did you get into my building?” Or even know where she lived?

  “Someone didn’t shut the door behind them. Major security hazard.”

  “Well, yeah, there’s an asshole on my doorstep.”

  A-plus level glowering ensued. “Jordan, I’m sorry. I was a jerk.”

  She folded her arms. Not good enough.

  “A big … dumb …” He squinted, feeling her out. “Piece-of-shit …”

  “Getting warmer.”

  “Should-fuck-off-and-die jerk?”

  “Ding ding ding, we have a winner! Is this the part where I try to figure out who hurt you? I use my woman’s intuition to get to the heart of your man problem, whatever the hell it is, because your ego must be stroked and feelings validated now that you vomited your so-so apology out?”

  He did that hot, broody thing with his mouth and muttered, “I don’t need to talk about my stuff.”

  “So, you just want to mic-drop your lame-ass sorry, add nothing to the conversation, and expect me to be okay with it?”

  “Getting mixed signals here.”

  She sighed, knowing he was right—about this one thing. The man was damned if he shared, damned if he didn’t. Talking it out, however, was more her style.

  “Tell me what made you go cold like that.”

  He blew out a breath. “I wasn’t a fan of how we left things in New York, and I let that get under my skin. I know this is what you need, this separation. I get that. You’re not obliged to give me the time of fucking day, never mind be still using me to …”

  “Get myself off?”

  His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. “You don’t have to think of me when you … do whatever. If you just want to use the what of it and not think about the who of it, that’s fine. I’m not here to tell you how to fantasize. I know you want to draw a line under it, but hell, Jordan, not sure I can be as professional as you. ’Cause when I think about that night, I’ve got a host of very specific memories to keep my right hand busy.”