Deflected: Game On in Seattle (Seattle Sockeyes Book 9)

by Jami Davenport

  “Dare what?” She stared at him in confusion. Damn, but she was adorable when she looked lost like that. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from all her demons and a few of his.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” He laid a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  “What am I thinking?”

  “You’ve taken one step down the walk of shame. Not going there, baby. Not at all. There is no shame here. No one-night stand. We’re going to ride this train as far as it travels. You and I are going to have fun together. I have another month or so on the island.”

  “We are?”

  “You don’t want to explore this after the most epic sex two people can have?” Alex couldn’t believe he was going there himself. He didn’t date or have real relationships, yet here he was, diving in without giving one thought to the possible repercussions down the road.

  “You thought our sex was epic?” Her eyes narrowed in disbelief.

  “You do not believe me?” He held his hands against his chest and stuck out his lower lip. “I am wounded deeply.”

  “I do, it’s just that I can’t imagine I would be better than more…experienced women.”

  “You are much better. You are best.”

  “Even though I believe you’ve lost a few screws somewhere along the way, thank you.”

  “You are welcome.” Alex grabbed her hand and squeezed it as he pulled the car onto the winding road.

  “Both hands on the wheel,” she said.

  “Okay, you love your rules.”

  “Somewhat. Rules make the world a more predictable and ordered place to live.”

  “Who wants predictable?” He glanced at her, and she opened her mouth to say something. He cut her off. “I know, eyes on road.”

  “You should try living by a few rules. They’ll make your life easier.”

  “How do you know my life is hard?”

  “I don’t. Is it?”

  “No harder than I make it.” He realized this almost as an epiphany. The majority of his current problems had been caused by his own hand, no one else’s. Regardless, he didn’t need more rules in his life.

  He pulled into her driveway and parked his car. “Can I come in?”

  “It’s late,” she hedged, “but I’ll hold you to dinner soon.”

  “Roz, do not run from me. I assure you, I run faster.”

  “I’m not, Alex. These last twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind, and I need time to process them. Everything I thought to be true about my future has changed. That’s heavy stuff.”

  “I guess.” He pouted like a child used to getting his way.

  She laughed at him. “You can pick me up for dinner tomorrow at Mom and Dad’s.”

  “I will.” He leaned across the console and kissed her, a soft kiss full of promise. She drew away and jumped out of the car, not giving him the opportunity to follow her. Seconds later, the door shut, and he was alone.

  He smiled to himself. He could get used to this island lifestyle, as long as Rosalind was part of it.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Was Rosalind that much of a flake that one night of incredible sex wiped out all her doubts? Her fickle heart was singing love songs and her body was humming along.

  She stood on her porch and watched Alex’s car roar out of the driveway. The guy never did anything at half speed. It was full speed ahead and never a dull moment with him. He’d wrapped her in a whirlwind of lust and a tornado of desire until she was spinning out of control and unable to generate one coherent thought.

  This wasn’t her. This was the behavior of one of her heroines, but definitely not her. Yet it felt oddly right, like she was where she should’ve been all along. What a ridiculous thought. She’d had the same feelings about David, or thought she had, and that’d ended badly.

  She was falling for Alex and had been since the first time she thought she’d hated him. This was going to hurt eventually, but she was starting to realize what everyone had been trying to tell her all along. The pain of eventually losing him would be worth it, and she would lose him, even if her fantasies were beginning to be rife with images of her wearing his jersey and sitting on the glass rooting him on, or attending a charity gala with him, or making him dinner in his Seattle condo.

  Most likely scenario—he’d leave before the end of summer, and she’d return to her quiet, sometimes boring life, but for now, she’d live without regrets.

  The events of the past several hours caught up with her, and she flopped onto her bed, closing her eyes and imagining Alex was making love to her again. Her sex scenes would never be the same after her experience banging the sexy Russian with the crooked smile.

  Her eyes popped open, and she was wide awake. Sleep would not come as a new story flooded her head with ideas and characters.

  She leapt out of bed, grabbed her laptop, created a new document, and began to write…

  To heck with plotting.

  Chapter 13—Being a Better Man

  Rosalind checked her hair and makeup one more time in the mirror. A plate of appetizers was laid out on the patio table and a bottle of wine was chilled and waiting. She’d done more than necessary for a simple night at home going over more of RoAnn’s books.

  Dinner at her parents’ on Sunday had been odd to say the least. Her mother kept grinning, and her parents exchanged several meaningful glances. Rosalind was certain they’d guessed Alex and their daughter were an item, even though she wouldn’t go that far. They’d done the deed once, made out in the car on Sunday night, and he’d made a date to take her dancing and to dinner Friday night. They’d also planned this meeting Tuesday night. Alex had come in the store on Monday and taken her to lunch, but she hadn’t seen him today.

  Was he backing off already, figuring she was the type of girl who didn’t do casual but did relationships—which she was—while he was the opposite? They had talked on the phone and texted, she reminded herself, not exactly backing off in her book. She was being stupid. She would see him tonight. He didn’t need to come into the store also. He probably had business to attend to. The man most likely had his hands in all kinds of stuff outside of hockey, stuff she knew nothing about.

  She couldn’t stop thinking of Alex and their night together. Her mind was filled with Alex’s charming smile, seductive blue eyes, and killer body. Every woman needed a summer romance, and she was no exception.

  Hearing a knock at the door, she curbed her inclination to hurry and forced her steps to be slow and measured. She opened the door to a grinning Alex, who held out a small bouquet of daisies and other assorted flowers.

  “For you. I promise not to spill this time.”

  “Thank you.” She laughed and took them from his hand. “Let me put these in some water.”

  He followed her to the small kitchen and stood close behind her while she poured water in a vase and inserted the flowers. He encircled her waist with his big hands and nibbled on her neck. She moaned, unable to stop herself. He kissed his way up her neck and tugged on her ear with his teeth.

  “Alex.” She turned in his arms and placed her hands on his chest, intending to push him away. One look in his eyes burning with need and desire, and she grabbed two handfuls of his T-shirt and pulled him closer. His mouth was hot and hungry against hers, demanding more from her. She was willing to give in to his every demand. Before she could react, he lifted her off her feet and into his arms. Striding down the short hallway, he looked for the bedroom.

  “Second door on the left,” she supplied helpfully.

  He kicked the door open with the toe of his Nikes and tossed her on the bed, following her down. His mouth was back on hers, more urgent, more demanding, and she gave the same right back to him until they were both panting and crazed with lust. They pulled at each other’s clothes like two uncivilized humans from another era. Before long, his condom-sheathed cock was buried inside her, and he was thrusting furiously. She screamed his name and gripped his shoulders as he drove them into oblivion and
beyond. Afterward, they showered together and had sex again in the shower.

  Finally, they dressed and returned to the living room, sated and content.

  Alex took a seat at the small kitchen counter, and Rosalind sat next to him. He pulled out the first of the books he’d marked up but didn’t open it.

  “You know, these are good books. I binge read entire series and am disappointed there are no more to read.”

  “The author is planning more.”

  He glanced up at her and back down at the top book in the stack. His gaze met hers again. She grew still. Something was going on, and she feared what it might be. Alex took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead.

  “You’re beautiful. You know that?”

  “You’ve told me but keep talking. I love to hear it.”

  “Maybe if I say enough, you believe?”

  “Maybe,” she conceded.

  “These books are good. This author is very talented. She has gift.”

  Rosalind blushed in spite of herself. “My friend will be happy to hear your generous compliments.”

  “They are not generous. They are truth. Every author puts a bit of themselves in characters. The same is true with RoAnn.”

  His mouth quirked in a sexy half smile. She’d bet her next month’s royalty check he’d gotten many a woman naked with just that smile.

  “Rosalind, I know.” Alex met her gaze with a steady one of his own.

  “Know? Know what?”

  “I know who RoAnn is. Your parents told me, but even if they hadn’t, I’d have figured it out. The female characters all contain pieces of you.”

  Rosalind’s stomach threatened to relieve itself of her dinner. She rubbed it absently as she racked her brain for some plausible way out of this. She didn’t want him to know she was RoAnn. Now he knew she wrote those sex scenes with those hot heroes. He’d assume like most people did that romance authors must have deviant brains to think up those sex scenes or write those characters with those plots. She’d never understood why a mystery writer could write about serial killers yet no one assumed they were one, but if a romance author wrote hot sex, everyone assumed they were doing the same.

  Actually, she was having hot sex with Alex, but she hadn’t been when she’d written those books. Her sex scenes have been pure fantasy since she’d never felt so crazy and passionate previously.

  “You are stricken. Why?”

  She met his gaze.

  “Roz, you are good writer. Very good. I love your books. Why do you keep secret?”

  She shrugged, not sure she could explain her position to a man who didn’t have the prejudices toward romance most men and many women did.

  “If I were you, everyone in store would know I wrote those books. I would be damn proud of them.”

  “I am, but letting everyone know it’s me takes me out of my comfort zone. I’m not ready for that yet.”

  “I think I know how you feel. I am disrespected all the time by people who do not understand what goes into my work. They think is all fun and games. But is very hard.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “I am conflicted too, Roz. I am not sure who I am anymore. I am trying to figure out. But I struggle. We all struggle with who we are.”

  “Yes, we do,” she agreed. And who was this man? Who was Alex? She knew very little about Alex’s life off this island, which saddened her. He didn’t talk about his childhood or his lack of family. She’d avoided Googling him for fear she’d break this spell wrapped around them. The Alex she knew on this island wasn’t the public Alex, the millionaire hockey player, the Russian orphan.

  He was just Alex. The man who’d stolen her heart.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The next evening Rosalind insisted they spend some time apart because she had to work on her book. Alex had been greatly disappointed. He couldn’t stand being away from her. If he had his way, they’d spend every waking moment together, which basically scared the crap out of him.

  Instead of enjoying some alone time, he was missing her. He went to the veterans club and had a drink with the Brothers, ate lunch with Blake, and now he was back at the mansion contemplating what to do next to pass the hours before he saw her again. It was only four p.m.

  His phone played his ringtone: “We are the Champions.” He jumped to his feet, hoping it was Rosalind. He didn’t recognize the number that popped up on the screen and almost didn’t answer. When he did, it was Ice.

  “Hey, dude, what is up?”

  “Our boy is making quite a name for himself. We need you to get him under control, Alex, or management will put him on the chopping block.”

  “I do not know location. I have not seen him in days.”

  “Find him. It should be easy enough. He’s all over the gossip blogs. We’re relying on you, Alex. You haven’t been in the media in a few weeks. We know you can help Cave.”

  “I am not babysitter.”

  “The team needs you, Rush. I need you.”

  When Ice put it like that, Alex couldn’t refuse.

  “I will do what I can.”

  “Good, I knew I could count on you. One more thing. Have you given any thought to what you’ll do with your day with the Cup?”

  Alex frowned. A month ago, he’d have held a hedonistic party at some expensive resort with a horde of beautiful women and drunk ungodly expensive champagne out of the Cup, probably poured some of the champagne over women’s naked breasts, and done hell knew what else with it.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ethan is encouraging every player to use their day with the Cup to do good, either raise money for charity, make a disabled child’s day, or any other creative positive experience you come up with.”

  “I see.” He wasn’t the least bit surprised. He’d been tracking what had been going on with the Cup, and the Sockeyes’ days had been relatively benign and altruistic. Smooth had taken it to the cancer ward of the Children’s Hospital. Coop had auctioned off an Hour with Coop and the Cup, earning close to five hundred thousand for charity for the six separate hours he’d auctioned. Ice had taken it on a tour of homeless shelters, supplying dinner and photos with the Cup. Brick sponsored a five-thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner, featuring the Cup, with proceeds going to children in foster care.

  Now they expected Alex to follow their lead. He sighed. He’d not given his day much thought in the past few weeks.

  “Ethan did have one suggestion for you.”

  “And that is?”

  “Something to do with the island, maybe raising money for the whales or something?”

  “Whales?” Alex frowned. Ethan wanted him to raise money for whales?

  “He’d be willing to arrange everything. All you need to do is show up, if you’re good with that.”

  “I am fine with that. Tell me when and where.” His imagined day with the Cup had turned into a fundraiser for one of Ethan’s causes, nothing like he’d imagined over the years, but maybe this was for the best. He’d probably get arrested if he stuck with his original plan.

  “I’ll get back to you. And Rush—”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m proud of you, bro. You’re turning into the man I knew you could be.”

  “Thank you.”

  The phone call ended. Alex stared at the wall for a long time afterward. He had to call his buddy and reel him back in. The team had named him Jasper’s keeper. Like it or not, he’d have to keep Jasper under control as long as he was on the island.

  Alex tapped in Jasper’s phone number.

  “Yeah?” Jasper answered, sounding sleepy and annoyed. Alex sighed. This was him a short month ago, partying all night and sleeping all day during the off-season.

  Alex got right to the point. “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Not sure. Some place outside of Victoria BC or maybe not.” His words were slurred.

  “Get your ass in gear and bring that boat back to the San Juans.�
��

  “Can’t. Don’t have the boat anymore.”

  “Then get on the ferry and get back here.”

  “Are you smoking something?”

  Alex almost wished he was. Maybe it’d make dealing with Jasper less frustrating. “I mean it. The team is pissed. Get back here.”

  “What are you? My father?”

  “Looks like I’ve been drafted into that role, like it or not.”

  Jasper laughed so long and hard, Alex wished he could reach through the phone line and strangle the ass.

  “What so funny about that?”

  “You? Telling me to behave? Are you kidding me? You’re the poster boy for the worst the NHL has to offer.”

  Alex cringed at the semi-truth behind that statement, but he took exception to Jasper’s accusations. He hadn’t hurt anyone. He’d drunk too much, but he hadn’t done drugs in a few years, and all the women he’d been with understood the deal.

  Then there was Rosalind. Did either of them understand what was going on between them? He didn’t, and he’d been trying to take it one day at a time.

  “No, but I am your friend. You’re destroying your career. The team isn’t happy.”

  “Yeah, whatevs. There are other teams.”

  “Not like this one. We have the right ownership, coaching staff, and players to be a contender for several years to come.”

  “Who are you, and where’s Rush?” Cave snickered.

  “Rush grew up. You should try it sometime.”

  “They got to you. I never thought I’d see it happen. I’ll be back in a few days, Dad. Don’t fret.”

  Cave ended the call, leaving Alex to stare at the phone in his hand.

  He rose to his feet. He had to see Rosalind. She made being a better man worth it.

  Chapter 14—Ferry Trip

  Rosalind opened the door to an agitated Alex. They kissed, and only a looming deadline stopped her from leading him to the bedroom. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but had to finish this chapter before they got into a discussion, or she’d never get it done. Such was the life of a writer.

  She’d lost a lot of time on this book because she’d been blocked, but once she’d relaxed following her plot exactly, the words had started to flow, especially the sex scenes.