Game On

by Kelly Jamieson

  “Like what?” I’d order whatever she wanted.

  “The Dice Bowl—it’s like Nuts ’n’ Bolts—a bunch of munchies. I love that.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “You pick.”

  “Nah. I’m good with whatever.”

  She gave me a reproving look.

  “No, seriously.”

  “Okay. Hummus and veggies?”

  “Sure. I love hummus.”

  We ordered when the waitress came back with our beers.

  “Okay. Want to keep playing this? Or try something else?” I picked up my glass.

  “This is fun. Let’s keep playing. But admit it—you don’t care about scoring.”

  I smiled slowly, staring into her eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong, gorgeous.”

  Chapter 4

  Olivia

  Okay, bad choice of words.

  This was crazy.

  I was having so much fun, I’d forgotten that my mission on this date was to persuade Cam to work with Move On Chicago.

  The flutters in my lower belly, the heat blooming between my thighs, and the weird urge to bat my eyelashes and flip my hair had made me forget that.

  This guy…wow. I was so attracted to him.

  This whole date had kind of thrown me off balance, because I had no idea what to expect from a rich and famous hockey player. A little café in an old building that had a million board games hadn’t even registered. But it was so fun.

  He was fun. And there was something about the way he looked at me…as if he really thought I was gorgeous. As if I was special.

  I mean, I’d bet he made everyone he talked to feel that way. He seemed to have that kind of quality. It wasn’t just me. I liked it, but I had to remember that if he turned that charm on everyone, it didn’t really mean I was special.

  I’d relived that scorching hot, unexpected kiss a few times, or maybe a hundred.

  Not only was he charming and hot, the answers to his questions make him very…likeable. When he’d told me the story about writing to his hockey hero, my heart had tilted in my chest imagining the disappointment of a ten-year-old boy not hearing back from his idol.

  Dangerous. He was dangerous.

  “Whose turn is it?” I asked, distracted.

  “I think it’s mine.” He picked up a card. “When you were in high school, did you ever get straight A’s on a report card?”

  I turned my NO card over with a glum pout, this question bringing back memories of not being able to live up to my older siblings. “I think…hell, I have no idea how many people have ever gotten straight A’s. I guess…sixty to seventy percent.” I laid down a token.

  We turned over our cards. “Whew.” Cam grinned. His card also said no. “I was sure you were a YES on that one.”

  “Why?”

  “You seem smart.”

  “Well. I’m not stupid. But I never got straight A’s. I probably could have, but I always felt like I was competing with my older sister and brother. Remember what you said about how teachers always compare you when you’re the youngest?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Well, it bugged me so much that I didn’t even try to get good marks.” I sighed. “I felt like if I tried and I didn’t do it, I’d be even more of a failure. So I didn’t study much. Did what I had to do to pass.”

  “Huh. Me too. I actually liked school, but I was a lot more interested in sports.”

  “I just wanted to be good at something. In high school, I felt like I was good at nothing. Until my sophomore year.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I…started running.” I wasn’t quite ready to tell him why. “I joined the running club.”

  “Hey, that’s cool. You still run?”

  “Yes.” I shrugged. “I’m promoting running and an active lifestyle to kids, so I better walk the talk, as they say.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

  Now. This was a perfect segue into asking him about becoming involved.

  “You’re pretty normal though.” He held up the card. “Only thirty-eight percent of people have ever got straight A’s.”

  “Really? That’s all? All my life, I felt like such a loser because of it.”

  “Jesus.” His eyebrows snapped together over his nose. “A loser?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “It was that sibling rivalry I mentioned.” I picked up another card just as the waitress arrived with our food. We paused to arrange things on the table and dig into the hummus and the big bowl of snack mix. “Mmm. This is good.”

  “It is.”

  We shared another slow, warm smile.

  “I guess we can play while we eat.” I reached for a card. “Have you ever eaten a meal naked?”

  His eyebrows flew up and his lips quirked, and I knew his answer. “You have.”

  “Yep. You?”

  I turned over my YES card.

  “Oh ho. I like this. I’m all in favor of eating in bed.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Good to know,” I murmured, unable to resist adding onto his double entendre. My belly did a flip-flop and heat slid through my veins as an image of Cam’s head between my thighs popped into my head.

  His eyes darkened. “Since we’re talking about it, I’m good at going south.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Pearl diving.” He paused. “Cunning linguistics.”

  I choked out a laugh. “I got it.” I swallowed, my pussy squeezing. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Oh no.” He leaned forward earnestly. “You shouldn’t take my word for it. You should totally make me prove it.”

  I fell back into my chair laughing, even as heat pooled low in my core. Oh my God.

  We’d completely abandoned keeping score, but we kept going, neither of us inclined to end the game, apparently.

  His turn. He read the card and hesitated. “We don’t have to do this one, if you don’t want to.”

  “Hey, we’ve come this far. Go for it.”

  “Have you ever purchased a pregnancy test?”

  “Ah.” I thought about passing on that, but it wasn’t really anything, adding a token to the board.

  He eyed me. “I say no.”

  I flipped my YES card and gave him a wry smile. Then he flipped over his YES card.

  “Pregnancy scare,” I said about mine. “It was negative.”

  “Uh, same.” He looked so pained I blinked at him, curious about the rest of that story. But he didn’t say anything more.

  “Mine was my first year of college, with a guy I barely knew. I kind of let loose a bit when I got to college. I was pretty relieved it was negative.” I met his eyes, not about to apologize for being sexual or for sleeping with someone I didn’t know that well.

  “I was relieved too.” He blew out a breath.

  We were sharing some pretty intimate stuff here, that you didn’t usually get to on a first date.

  Our food was gone, and our beers were empty.

  “Okay, one more question,” Cam said. “Then we can play a different game or go somewhere else.”

  He looked at the card. “Do you have an ‘innie’ belly button?”

  I choked on a laugh and instinctively pressed a hand to my stomach.

  Cam grinned and leaned forward. “I just want to make it known that I don’t care if you have an innie or an outie, I only hope I get a chance to see it.”

  My insides warmed. “You’re so bad.”

  “Yeah. But be honest…”

  I tipped my head to one side and lifted an eyebrow.

  “You want to see mine too.” He smirked, and it was so sexy I melted.

  “That sounded really dirty.”

  “I
’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  I moved my head from side to side, smiling helplessly.

  He grinned. “I like you.”

  The words were so honest and sincere, they hit me right in the chest, and I had no idea how to respond. I’d never been with someone who didn’t play games. So many men I met used that negging technique which drove me crazy. And yet…he’d come up to me with those cheesy, canned pickup lines…how sincere was he, really?

  It didn’t matter. I wasn’t in this for personal reasons. I was in this for business reasons, which at some point I had to broach with him.

  Together we replaced the cards, tokens, and board into the box.

  “Okay, what game should we play next?” Cam rose, holding the box.

  “Oh geez.” I glanced at the shelves. “I have no idea.”

  “Okay, then we’ll play Ethnos.” He moved over to put away Are You Normal and returned with another box. Another game I had no idea how to play.

  “This one’s good because it doesn’t go on forever.” He set it on the table and sat again. “Not that I want our date to end.”

  “Excuse me.”

  I looked up to see a woman with two young boys standing next to our table.

  She smiled at Cam. “I’m sorry to bother you. My boys here are wondering if they could get your autograph.”

  “Oh sure!” Cam smiled and pushed back his chair.

  The boys had Aces ball caps and offered a pen to Cam. “What are your names?” he asked as he signed the caps.

  “Ethan.”

  “Scott.”

  “Good to meet you. You guys play hockey?”

  “Yeah.” They stared at him worshipfully.

  Hmm. I hadn’t expected this.

  Cam chatted with them for a few minutes, and then the mom shepherded them away with a grateful smile.

  Cam lifted his shoulders as he faced me across the table again, a rueful smile on his lips. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Does that happen a lot?”

  Before he could answer, two teenage girls appeared next to us.

  “Hi, Cam,” one said with a breathless giggle. “Could we get a picture with you?”

  He rose and posed between them as they each took selfies, chatting with them and charming them until their faces were red. I watched them twirl around to leave, both squeezing up their faces in excitement, and I heard them saying, “Omigod!”

  Cam made a face. “Sorry again.”

  This was actually a good thing, because it told me that Cam would be a great spokesperson for Move On Chicago. He had enough of a profile in the city that people knew him and admired him. This was great!

  He explained the rules of the game to me, and we started playing. This game was much more competitive, and things started getting intense. But still, it was fun. An hour later, he beat me, but it was a hard-fought game that ended with us both sitting back in our chairs, laughing.

  “You caught on quick.” Cam began to put the game away.

  “It was fun.” I gathered up cards.

  “So. Are you up for going somewhere else for dinner?”

  “I didn’t realize this was going to be a dinner date.”

  “I didn’t either.” He grinned. “But I’m having fun.”

  “I am too.” I looked down at myself. “I didn’t dress for anywhere fancy.”

  “No worries. Me either. There are a few places right near here that are good, that are casual.” He pulled out his phone and swiped at the screen a few times. “Do you like paella?”

  “Mmm. Love it.”

  “Okay. Let’s do that.”

  “I guess you’re not going to let me pay half the bill?”

  He grinned. “Nope.”

  He took care of the bill while I got my jacket on. I pulled out my own phone to check it while he was dealing with his credit card. I had a message from Paisley. You home yet?

  Nope. We’re going for dinner.

  !!!!!­!!!!!­!!!

  I sent her back a smiley face and tucked my phone away.

  As we walked through the café to leave, I became aware that many of the other patrons were watching us. Cam ignored it, setting a hand on my lower back until we were out on the sidewalk.

  It was growing dark outside, the lights in the buildings glimmering around us, the sky above a deep midnight blue. The wind had picked up since I’d gotten here, and I wrapped my big scarf around my face and dug out my gloves from my purse.

  “You okay to walk a few blocks?” Cam adjusted my scarf at my chin in a way that made my belly flutter.

  “Oh yeah.”

  He linked his arm with mine and led the way around the corner and down the street, our strides matching. I liked to walk fast, and my friends were always telling me to slow down and wait for them, but Cam walked at the same pace.

  “This question didn’t come up in the game, so I’ll ask it now. Do you sleep naked?”

  My eyes nearly popped out onto the sidewalk, and I choked on a laugh. “Um. No.”

  “Damn. What do you sleep in?”

  “A bed.” I smirked.

  He burst out laughing. “Smart ass. Well, I do sleep naked.”

  Heat fluttered in my belly. “Thanks for sharing.”

  “How about this one. Have you ever gone commando?”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Well?”

  “Of course.” I tossed my hair back.

  He reached over to lay his gloved hand on mine where it rested on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Tell me more.”

  The flutter in my lower abdomen intensified. I wished we weren’t wearing gloves so I could feel his bare hand on mine. “That’s kind of personal.”

  He chuckled. “As if the other questions weren’t?”

  “True. Okay, I hate panty lines.” I bumped my shoulder into his as we walked. “What about you?”

  “I hate panty lines too. Really ruins the smooth lines of my tight pants.”

  I chuckled, resisting the impulse to reach behind him and pat his butt, certain there were no lines ruining the shape of his fine ass. “Tight pants? Skinny jeans?”

  He snorted. “I’m kidding. I can’t wear skinny jeans. My thighs are like tree trunks. I definitely need relaxed fit.”

  I swallowed. I’d noticed his butt that night at River East, but now I wanted to see his thighs. They were probably strong…my inner muscles squeezed and heat washed down through me.

  “Have you lived in Chicago your whole life?” he asked.

  Whew. A change of subject. “Yeah. Other than college in California.”

  “I love California. Where did you go to college?”

  “Stanford.”

  “Huh. How about that. I lived in San Jose for a few years.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. My dad played for the Sharks. But that was when I was only about six, seven, eight, I think.”

  “So your dad’s a hockey player too?”

  “He was. Now he’s an assistant coach for the Flames, in Calgary.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Four years.”

  “Do you like Chicago?”

  “I love it. I hope I can stay here.”

  I shot him a sideways look as we walked. “I guess when you’re a pro athlete there’s always a risk you could be traded.”

  “Yeah, sort of. Trade deadline is coming up in a couple of weeks, and you never know what’s going to happen. Everyone gets a little antsy. But my contract is up this year, so who knows about next year.”

  We arrived at Moreno, a small tapas restaurant and bar. I’d never been here before and looked around curiously as we enter
ed. It was lovely and warm inside, the air scented with spices, many of the tables occupied. Sultry Spanish guitar music mingled with the chatter of voices and the clink of dishes and silverware. We were shown to a table for two near the front window and we again settled in.

  “This is so nice.”

  “I haven’t actually been here before, but I’ve heard good things about it. You’re good with seafood?”

  “I love seafood.”

  We ordered red wine and their special paella. It apparently took a while to prepare, so we nibbled on olives and calamari first.

  “So, legs, tell me more about your work,” he invited me.

  Okay. Now was my chance.

  Chapter 5

  Cam

  “How did you get started doing that?” I prompted, when Olivia didn’t say anything.

  “Oh. Um. I always felt a need to give back. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do after I had my undergrad degree. It’s a degree in history, so not super practical. I didn’t want to go into the family business like my brother and sister, so I started doing some volunteer work. Running kind of…saved me when I was a teenager, and it seemed like such a simple solution to so many problems, I decided to try to spread that love.” She gave a self-deprecating smile.

  Okay so many questions out of that short speech.

  “A degree in history.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She wrinkled her nose. “I like history.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Mostly I went to college to have fun.”

  I laughed, surprised at this admission. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, I couldn’t live up to my sister and brother, and I was kind of a late bloomer. At college I discovered boys and booze and parties.”

  “I’m getting the impression that money’s not an issue for you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why do you say that?”

  “Your wanting to ‘give back.’ Apparently, you didn’t need to pick a college major that would lead to employment, and then after you graduated you did volunteer work. And partying your way through college doesn’t lead me to believe that you were worried about grades and funding.”

  “Wow,” she said slowly, adjusting her fork on the table, pondering that. “Well, you’re right. My family’s well off.” She paused, eyeing me. “I have a trust fund I inherited from my grandfather. I used some of that money to start Move On Chicago.”