Body Check

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "Oh my God! We have to call Jodi and Renee. Oh my God, I can't believe it!" Val hopped around the room, a wide smile splitting her face as she tried to call their friends on her cell phone.

  Alyssa gave a few little hops, too, unable to stop herself. Who cared if she looked silly? There wasn't anyone to see her or judge her.

  And she deserved to be excited. They had done it! At least, they were doing it. In a few months, the restaurant would be a reality, and they would be on their way to making their dream come true.

  So yes, she'd be excited. And stay that way, too, despite the niggling worry at the back of her mind about their new investor.

  Chapter One

  Randy leaned forward and dug in with his skates, pushing himself, moving faster in pursuit of the puck. He crossed into the defensive zone, getting closer, closer now. Less than a yard separated him from the visiting player and he reached out with his stick, making contact and yanking back, ruining the shot as the whistle blew.

  Play on the ice slid to a stop and Randy turned to look, saw the ref skating toward him, his hands signaling a penalty for high sticking. Randy looked around, wondering who was being called, then realized that the ref was pointing at him.

  "What the hell? You're blind! That wasn't high sticking!" Randy's voice was muffled by his mouth guard, which was probably the only thing that stopped him from getting into more trouble. That, and JP skating up next to him, pushing him out of the way.

  "That's a bullshit call!"

  "Let it go. Come on, let's go." JP tugged on his arm, leading him across the ice. Randy looked up, saw that there was just over two minutes on the clock, then stomped into the penalty box, slamming the door shut behind him.

  His gaze followed the play on the ice, watching as his teammates battled against the clock, fighting to keep the puck out of their own net. He held his breath, glanced up at the clock, waiting and watching. His two minutes were up and he flew out of the box, sliding in front of the opposing team player and reaching forward with his stick. The blade caught the puck and he dug behind him, sending the galvanized rubber shooting across the ice, away from the net. The horn sounded, signaling the end of the game, and he bent over, resting the stick against his knees as he slid toward the net.

  The Banners won, 3 to 2. Randy skated over to the net, congratulating Alec with the rest of the players, then moved toward the bench and the locker room.

  "Michaels!"

  Randy turned at the sound of his name being bellowed and swallowed a groan when he saw Sonny LeBlanc, their coach, heading toward him. Sonny's face was impassive, the long scar that cut across his face a slash of white against a ruddy complexion. At least it wasn't red. If Sonny's scar turned red, it was a sign of imminent explosion.

  "Nice job handling that bad call. Way to keep your cool." Sonny clamped a bear paw against Randy's shoulder pads then moved off, and Randy let out the breath he had been holding.

  Yes, he had kept his cool. Again. Never mind that he almost lost it, never mind that his mouth had come close to giving the ref an earful. What counted was that he had kept quiet, didn't say a word—at least not loud enough to be heard—and hadn't gotten into a fight over it.

  Nearly three months had gone by since that meeting with his agent, and he hadn't been in one single fight. Not on the ice, not off the ice. He had been a regular freaking Boy Scout, behaving himself like never before.

  If something didn't change soon, he was going to explode.

  He stripped out of his uniform and pads and made a beeline for the showers, making short time of washing up and changing. He was in front of his locker, slipping into expensive dress shoes when JP stopped in front of him. His crooked smile lit his eyes with mischief.

  "You should come to the club tonight, blow off some steam, eh?"

  Randy paused, wanting to say yes, coming close to saying yes. But he shook his head at the last minute as he pulled on the dress jacket. "No."

  "No? You haven't been to the club in months. The girls miss you."

  Randy clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to give in. One night. What would one night hurt? He'd go with JP, hang out at the club, have a few drinks, flirt a little.

  And sure as hell something would happen. A fight would break out. Or some guy would get upset if his girlfriend talked to him. Or he'd say something wrong to the wrong person. Anything. Randy clamped down on his willpower and shook his head again. "No. I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm trying to be respectable now."

  JP laughed, the clear sound filled with disbelief. He brushed the damp hair off his forehead, slicking it back, and fixed Randy with his crooked smile. "Respectable. No, what you're becoming is boring, my friend. I think you've taken this whole thing too seriously."

  "Yeah, well, I have to." But did he, really? Was he taking it too far? The last few months had been hell. Was this what his life was going to be like for the next fifteen or so months? God help him if it was.

  Randy took a deep breath and looked over at JP again, the urge to say yes strong. But he couldn't. If he couldn't find the strength to see this through for another few weeks at least, he might as well just hang up his skates now.

  Of course, in another few weeks, he might just explode, and then it wouldn't make a difference either way.

  "Have it your way, my friend. That leaves more girls for me to enjoy, eh?" JP clapped him on the shoulder then walked away, his laughter trailing behind him. Maybe if Randy went after his cocky friend, JP would stand still long enough for him to take his aggressions out on.

  No, that wouldn't work.

  Randy muttered in frustration and grabbed his keys and wallet from the locker, then slammed the door shut. It was a Friday night, early Spring in Baltimore, and his best friend was off to one of the clubs for some fun that would no doubt last until past sunrise.

  And Randy was off to see his sister. What could be more respectable than that?

  Or more pathetic.

  **

  Flavors mingled on her tongue, lightly at first, fresh and crisp until they blended at just the right moment then exploded at the back of her mouth. Alyssa swallowed, her eyes still closed, and waited.

  It wasn't bad, but it still wasn't right. Not the way she wanted it to be.

  She opened her eyes and nearly screamed, then bent over, choking as a piece of the burger stuck in her throat. A large hand patted her on the back, nearly knocking her over, and she pushed the big man away, motioning that she was alright.

  At least she would be, as soon as her heart climbed out of her stomach.

  She reached for the glass of water and took a cautious sip, her eyes never leaving the rugged face that was watching her so closely. Randy Michaels, Val's brother. Their investor. The bane of her existence.

  Maybe that last part was a little extreme, but Alyssa still didn't feel comfortable around him. The worst part was, she didn't know why. He was always polite, almost distant, and rarely spoke to her except for mundane pleasantries. But there was still something about him, something that set her nerves tingling, and not in a good way.

  Like right now. He stood a few feet away, his hazel eyes studying her, like he was waiting for her to stop breathing or something. And his eyes were intense, framed by dark thick lashes that would have looked too feminine on anyone else. The man in front of her was anything but feminine.

  Dressed in dark slacks and a blazer, with a cream shirt opened at the collar, he looked like a businessman just come from the office. But no businessman she had ever met filled out a sports jacket like he did. Even she could tell the outfit had been custom tailored to fit him—it would have had to have been, to look so good on his large frame. But she didn't think any tailor, no matter how talented, could hide those broad shoulders and broad chest, that lean waist and those strong legs.

  Alyssa closed her eyes and took another sip of water. What was she doing? She was checking out the man in front of her, that's what she was doing. Which meant she had clearly been working too long today.
>
  She opened her eyes again only to notice the man in front of her watching her intently, those changing eyes fully focused on her, which only made her more uncomfortable.

  "I didn't mean to startle you." His voice was deep, smooth, like fine chocolate followed by old cognac. Alyssa bit her tongue and told herself to stop. Whatever she was doing, she needed to just stop.

  "I'm sure I'll survive." She took one last sip of water then put the glass back on the steel counter that ran along the middle of the kitchen. "Um, did you need something?"

  "I was looking for Val."

  "Oh. She's not here. I think she had a date or something." Alyssa tried to look away, tried to focus her gaze on something, anything else. But she couldn't. Her eyes were enjoying the present scenery too much. How come she had never noticed how striking Randy was before? Oh, she had always thought he was attractive, no doubt about that. Dangerous, brooding, arrogant, and attractive. But looking at him now, she realized he was more than that. Striking was the word that came to mind, but she wasn't sure that was the right one.

  His dark hair was thick and full, slicked back from his high forehead and curling just the slightest bit below his collar. Those hazel eyes of his were deep-set, intense. A faint scar cut through his left eye, the line starting just above his brow and slashing straight down, ending just at his cheekbone. The lid of that eye drooped just the faintest bit, giving him just the slightest look of a pirate. Val had said he had taken a stick to the face when he was playing in high school. Alyssa wondered if that was why he looked so dangerous.

  No, it was more than just the scar. It was the whole package. It was his sculpted physique, his dark hair and the sharp planes of his face, with the high cheekbones and square jaw covered with just a hint of dark stubble. There was a cleft in his chin, just the slightest indentation below his full mouth. She suddenly wondered if his lips would be soft, or rough like—

  "You're staring at me."

  Alyssa jumped, startled. Heat rose to her face and she looked away, her hands automatically going to the empty plates in front of her, tidying up. How could she have been staring at him? How could she have let herself get caught staring at him? "Sorry, I didn't mean to. I mean, I was just wondering...Your scar. How'd that happen?"

  And now she was rambling. Could this really get any worse? She stacked the empty plates and moved toward the sink, only that was a stupid move because she had to walk past him to get there.

  "I got it in a bar fight." He spoke the words just as she was brushing by him, his deep voice rumbling in his chest so close she could almost feel it. Then his words registered and she looked up in surprise, nearly dropping the plates.

  "What? I thought—"

  Randy laughed. A deep, resonating sound that lodged at the base of her spine and sent chills all the way through her. And not cold chills. No, these were warm, melting chills that made her legs go gooey. And oh God, he had a dimple. She needed to get away from him. Now.

  "I'm only joking. I'm not quite that bad." His reached up with one large finger and absently traced the scar along his eye. "This happened in high school, playing hockey."

  "Oh." She pushed past him, doing her best to squeeze by without actually touching him, then placed the dishes in the sink. She kept her back to him as she started washing them. "That must have hurt."

  "Well, it didn't tickle." She heard him move, heard the clank of silverware against china and glanced over her shoulder. He had taken her spot near the counter and was trying a bite of the burger, a thoughtful frown on his face as he chewed. Alyssa held her breath, waiting to see if he would say anything. She tried to hide her disappointment when he merely shrugged, then quickly finished it off.

  "This isn't bad. What's in it?"

  "Some different herbs and spices. I was going for something just a little more upscale, a little more refined for the burger."

  "Why do you need an upscale burger? It's just a hamburger."

  "Because I want it to be more than just a burger. You can get a burger anywhere, so ours need to be special."

  "If you say so. I don't know why you need a special burger for a sports bar, but whatever." He turned back around and studied the several other plates of food she had prepared, taking a bite of each. Alyssa stared at him, her jaw clamped shut, and for once didn't worry about what someone thought of her food.

  Sports bar? Oh my God, was that what he really thought they were opening? Hadn't Val talked to him, told him what they were doing?

  Hadn't the man even asked before handing over that obscene amount of money?

  She opened her mouth, ready to correct his mistake, then promptly shut it again. No. There was no way she was going to have that conversation with him. Let Val handle it. He was her brother, she could deal with it.

  Alyssa turned back around and finished washing the dishes, then jumped again when she saw motion from the corner of her eye. But it was only Randy, handing her the remaining plates, now empty.

  "That was all pretty good. Did you make everything?"

  "Uh, yeah. That's what I do. I'm the chef."

  "Oh. I didn't realize that."

  Alyssa rinsed the final plate and stacked it in the drain, then turned and looked at the man standing too close to her. "Did you not talk to Val at all about this when you agreed to invest?"

  "No, why would I? She's my sister. She has a good head on her shoulders, I trust her."

  Alyssa blinked, then shook her head and dried her hands off on the towel. Then she stood there, with no idea what she should do next.

  Go home. That's what she needed to do. Go home and get some sleep, because tomorrow was going to be another long day. Most of the menu was set—they were keeping it simple, with refined selections of the classic standards—but she still needed to tweak a few things.

  And come up with a signature dish. She was still waiting for inspiration for that one.

  Yes, she needed to go home. But Randy was still standing next to her, studying her with those intense eyes that made her nervous.

  "Bacon."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You need to add bacon to the burger."

  "Oh. Well, of course that'll be an option for a topping—"

  "Not as a topping. Actually add it to the burger. You know, crumble it up and mix it in. That's how I make mine."

  Alyssa opened her mouth to object, then shut it. The idea was a good one, and she wasn't going to dismiss it just because it wasn't hers. "I'll have to try that, thanks."

  They stood there for a few minutes, the silence dragging around them, threatening to become uncomfortable. Alyssa looked down and realized she was fiddling with the towel, so she quickly folded it and placed it over the sink.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't think to ask. Did you need something?"

  "No. I just wanted to stop by and see Val, see how things were coming along."

  "Oh. She's not here."

  "Yeah, you told me that already." Randy smiled down at her, that blasted dimple showing in his cheek, and she took a hasty step back.

  "Oh. Well, it's getting late and I'm getting ready to leave, so I guess you can leave now. I'll tell Val you stopped by."

  "I'll wait for you."

  "You don't have to, my car's right out back."

  "I'll still wait."

  "Really, you don't have to—"

  "Lady, could you humor me here? It's after midnight and I'm trying to be a gentleman." His voice was almost a growl, and she jumped back again, startled once more. Then she looked down at her watch, surprised to see that he was right. She had lost all track of time. Again.

  "Let me just get my bag." She hurried to the back office and grabbed her tote, slinging it over her shoulder after pulling her keys from the front pocket. She palmed the light switch off then hurried back through the kitchen, not surprised to see Randy waiting for her at the door, a scowl on his face.

  Why on earth was he scowling? Was it because she had originally refused to let him wait for her? She thought about a
pologizing, then changed her mind. Let the man scowl if he wanted, it didn't matter to her.

  She pushed past him and quickly keyed in the alarm code, hit the light switch, and pushed through the door. He followed her out, checking to make sure the door closed all the way, then placed his hand in the middle of her back. His hand was heavy and warm as he walked her through the gravel lot, a reassuring weight that sent tingles of awareness up her spine. She tried to get ahead of him, thinking that he'd let his hand drop if she did, but his legs were so long that she'd have to sprint to do it. And then it didn't matter, because they were at her car.

  Which looked sad and forlorn parked next to the sleek dark Mercedes convertible. The car had to be his. Of course it was his. Who else would it belong to?

  She ignored the expensive sports car and jammed her key into the lock of her own tiny car. She reached down to open the door but was stopped when Randy's hand closed over hers, big and warm and strong. She stepped back, startled once more at the sensation, and turned to look up at him.

  He was just opening the door for her, nothing else. He was just trying to be a gentleman, like he had said earlier. Nothing more, nothing she needed to be reading into. She tried to step back, to give him room. But the sensation of his hand over hers was startling, and she looked up at him again, ready to say something, to mutter a thank you or a good night, or something.

  But she couldn't say anything, because that quick, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  Chapter Two

  The lips beneath Randy's mouth were firm, stiffened in surprise. He tilted his head and gently ran the tip of his tongue along the crease of her mouth, breathing a soft sigh of satisfaction when she yielded to him.

  She tasted like spice and heat, her mouth warm and tantalizing, unleashing a hunger he hadn't even realized he had. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her more tightly against him, fitting her curves along his body.

  Delicious curves, soft and full and warm, like she had been made just for him. The intensity of his body's reaction surprised him and he sighed again, pressing himself more fully against her. He had no idea what prompted him to kiss her, and he didn't care, not when her body melted against his like it was, not when she ran her hands up his chest and along his neck. She breathed into his mouth, the sound like something between a sigh and a purr. Heat surged through him, powerful, potent. He stepped forward, pushing her back so she was pressed between his hard body and the hard surface of the car.