"Mia."
What the hell was he doing here in Montreal? She clasped her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see her slight tremble.
"Andre."
He had the gall to approach her, and place a tiny kiss on her cheek, a little too close to her lips. He smiled. She wanted to bolt, but decided to stand her ground.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
She blinked and tilted her head back. "Seriously?"
He seemed genuinely surprised. "Well, yes."
She shook her head. "No thanks."
He threw her a disbelieving look, then his eyes changed. There was something in those dark depths that she should have noticed when she was dating him.
Black and cold.
She was just about to turn and walk away when he said, "Rumor has it you're with Rafferty now."
"Oh, it seems hockey players gossip too. And just so you know, who I'm with is none of your business."
"At one time you were my business."
Her face flushed with growing anger. "That’s why we're not together anymore, Andre. I'm no one's 'business.'"
He must have found her anger amusing. He firmly grasped her wrist. "Come on Mia, just one drink for old time's sake."
"Take. Your. Hand. Off. Me. Now."
He released her wrist and drew a hand through his short cropped blond hair. "Look, Mia, I've apologized a hundred times. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can't we be friends?"
"We were never friends, Andre, and if you apologized a million times, we could never be friends. Why don't you call my father, I understand he's your friend."
"Ah, the little ice princess; now the claws come out, eh?"
His French-Canadian accent may have been attractive at one time, now she just found it offensive.
"I don’t know why you're so angry, Mia. You got what you wanted."
Mia struggled to stay calm and took a deep breath. "If it was up to me, you would have been banned from the league for life."
"How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry for what happened."
"Only after I threatened to make a scene if management hadn’t gotten rid of you, and my father only agreed because he had to save face. So don’t give me the 'I'm sorry' story."
He shrugged. Arrogant bastard.
"It all happened for the best anyway. You got the job, and I went home to Toronto."
"Yeah, make sure you stay there." Mia closed her eyes and sighed. "Goodbye, Andre, can't say it hasn't been awful."
Mia exhaled heavily, clutching her hands together after Andre walked away without responding.
That's when she spied Quinn stepping off the elevator.
She had no intention of becoming involved in a confrontation between the two of them and turning into the main attraction on the eleven o'clock version of Sports Scene.
Thankfully, Andre turned from her and walked away, leaving Mia to approach Quinn.
And just looking at him, six foot five inches of firm muscled, handsome, good natured Quinn caused Mia's heart to pound. Blood rushed through her veins, her body doing crazy things.
He caught sight of her, and that sexy smile curved his lips, and Mia believed she could do anything.
Like opening her heart and letting love in.
CHAPTER NINE
After their time spent together in Montreal, Quinn thought it was time to see J. P. and inform the old man that he intended to marry Mia.
He hadn’t asked Mia yet. First things first. He wanted to get things straight with Sinclair first, so he found himself standing in J.P.'s office, hands in his pockets, waiting for the old man to acknowledge his presence.
How the hell did Mia deal with this guy on a daily basis? Quinn had no clue.
"What can I do for you, Rafferty?"
J.P. signaled Quinn to sit across from him. Quinn took a seat and clasped his hands together on his lap.
What he was about to say to the old man hinged on his career, and his life.
"I came to tell you that I'm going to ask Mia to marry me, Sir."
J.P. hesitated a moment, then looked at Quinn. "Really?"
Quinn nodded. "I plan to ask her after the road trip with Chicago. Just wanted to let you know."
"So you're not asking for my blessing, Rafferty. You're just alerting me."
"However you want to take it, Sir. I love Mia, and I want to be with her. What's so bad about that?"
"I don’t know, Rafferty. She didn’t have much of a promising relationship with Andre Goyette, and he wanted to marry her too."
"If you'll excuse me Mr. Sinclair, Goyette's a fucking asshole who abused Mia. I don’t get how you don’t see that."
J.P. shrugged. "So he's got a temper. She's not like her mother. My wife was strong, decisive, where Mia is not quite the leader is she?"
Quinn grasped the arms of the chair to keep him from grabbing J.P. by the neck and choking the life out of him.
"Mia's the smartest, toughest woman I know, Mr. Sinclair."
"She won't marry you, Rafferty. She is still damaged by a relationship she couldn’t maintain. If you were smart, you'd just wait until the season was over, and concentrate on your career."
"Thanks for the advice, but I'm a big boy and I know what I want. I really don’t owe you anything Sir, but I want to give you the respect by telling you I intend to be with Mia and build a life with her, whether you like it or not."
J.P. tilted his head and stood, a signal to Quinn that the meeting was at an end.
"You're not right for her, Rafferty. After all, she's a trust fund baby, grew up with the silver spoon, all that."
"And I'm just a dumb jock, is that it?"
"I didn’t say that."
Quinn shook his head. "You didn’t have to." And with that, Quinn left the old man's office with one singular thought. He was going to ask Mia to marry him, and the old man could go to hell.
***
Mia answered her front door to the appearance of a young delivery man presenting her with two dozen lavender roses, her favorite.
Her heart pounded as she unpinned the note from the bouquet. No words, just the letter, 'Q'. As if she didn’t know.
Finding a crystal vase, she set the aromatic bouquet in water, then carried them to the bathroom and placed them on her vanity so she could enjoy looking at them while she bathed.
Oh Quinn, you're making me fall for you.
Peeling off her slacks, blazer and camisole, Mia started the water, pouring fragrant lavender beads in the tub for her bubble bath.
While the bath was running, she headed back toward the kitchen for a glass of wine. Armed with that and a high fat candle, she padded back to the bathroom.
Lighting the candle, and inhaling the scent of her roses, she took one fully bloomed blossom from the vase and inhaled deeply.
Dimming the bathroom lights, Mia lightly stepped into the tub, and moaned in pleasure as her muscles began to relax from the hot bath water.
Taking the glass, she took a welcoming sip, and leaned back to enjoy and relish the sensations of the candle, water and wine, easing the stress of the day.
But her mind, once again, strayed to Quinn.
Quinn, once her friend, now her lover.
Quinn, a man who made her feel like no other woman existed in the world.
Quinn, whose powerful muscles could stop a puck at 80 miles an hour, but whose touch could ignite her with a subtle erotic caress from his long calloused fingers.
Closing her eyes and taking another sip of wine, Mia re-lived her last few weeks with him.
The stolen moments they shared, kissing and touching, giving and taking pleasure in each other's body. Quinn's erotic words fueled her blood and made her heart race.
Finishing the last of the wine in her glass, Mia sunk down into the bubbles, spreading them onto her arms and neck.
She knew it was time to face her fear. In the beginning, Andre was also loving, attentive and wonderful to be with. He'd been a good lover, but Mia had always fel
t there was something missing.
Andre wasn’t the type to cuddle after lovemaking. He'd kiss her quickly, as if to say, 'good job' and leave their bed to shower and get ready for dinner.
Andre Goyette was the reason she'd kept Quinn at arms' length. She'd fallen for the tall, blonde right winger almost immediately. He was handsome, sweet and Mia was crazy about his French accent.
In the end, his accent was the only thing that Mia found charming about him.
As the bubbles began to burst in the tub, so did Mia's blind faith in Andre.
The first time he hit her was after a celebratory party when the team won the Division championship.
He'd had too much to drink and when they arrived home and she pointed out that he'd had too much to drink, he pushed her into a wall, and she fell, breaking her ankle.
After that, her ice skating teaching career was over. She was capable of skating, but only for recreation.
Like a fool Mia had forgiven him. Until the next time.
He once accused her of cheating on him with Adam Piersson, the team captain, Mia's friend, and one of the nicest guys she’d ever known.
For that, Andre slapped her across the face.
It was the last time he'd ever hit her.
Calling the police, Andre was taken in, but his rich father, a noted heart surgeon in Canada, posted his bail, and subsequently, Andre was free.
She campaigned to get him suspended permanently from hockey.
Instead, he fled back to Canada, and with his father's assistance, was appointed an office job for the Toronto Timber Wolves.
Mia moved on and found the job with the Thunder, having been hired by her father, and not interested in dating.
Until Quinn.
Mia shivered from thoughts of Quinn or the cold water, she couldn’t say.
Showering off the bubbles, then stepping out of the tub and wrapping herself in a soft, well worn lavender terry cloth robe, she blew out the candles, and stepped from the bathroom and into her bedroom.
Suddenly she wanted to talk to him.
The Thunder played Buffalo in a couple of hours. Maybe she could catch him before he left for the arena. She grabbed her iphone from her bag and speed dialed him.
She got his voice mail, and after leaving him a message, she disconnected, realizing how much she missed him.
Did she have the strength to take a chance with Quinn? Could she move on and forget the past and be happy?
Slipping into Quinn's jersey and settling herself under her soft, warm comforter, she turned off her lamp, but didn’t close her eyes.
Her heart yearned for him, her body ached for him.
If only her mind could release her of doubts, and she could allow herself to love again.
***
An exhausted Thunder team tied Buffalo, 4-4, and afterward, Quinn and Adam decided to have a late dinner in the hotel restaurant.
"I'm going to ask her to marry me."
Adam's cynical look matched his frown. "I thought you were going to go slow, give her time." Adam took a long drink of iced tea from a tall glass.
Quinn smiled. "We've known each other a long time and have been seeing each other seriously for weeks. I'm nuts about her, and I think I speak for her when I say she feels the same."
Quinn cut his prime rib, the scent of it making his mouth water. He relished the bite he slid off the fork, and was prepared for the short, but direct lecture from Adam.
Adam Piersson was a talented, tough jock but a pain in the ass when it came to the subject of commitment.
The man was a confirmed bachelor. A hockey veteran at the age of thirty six, he could still kick the ass of any nineteen year old rookie on any team.
The guy was strong, committed to staying fit, kept his nose clean and was a private man who said little, but always got his point across. When it came to his friends, he was like a dog with a bone.
"When are you going to ask her?"
Quinn, cut another piece of the tender steak, and looked up at his friend. "When we go home. We'll wait till the season is over, give her the ring, and plan a June wedding. I want her to have the whole church thing, a huge reception, the limos, the whole bit. I –"
Adam held up a hand and frowned, which didn’t worry Quinn. Adam rarely smiled.
"I trust you discussed this with Mia first."
Quinn shrugged and put down his fork. "No, not yet, but Adam, when I give her the ring, I'll tell her my plans and I'm sure she'll agree."
Adam crossed his arms over his chest. "Aren't you taking this all for granted? I love Mia, she's a terrific woman, but do you remember what Andre put her through? Has she told you how she feels? And don’t tell me to mind my own business because I saw her after Goyette was shipped back to Canada."
It was the longest speech Quinn had ever heard Adam give. "Look, I would never hurt her. Goyette was an asshole, and if I ever got my hands on him, well, you know."
Adam lifted his glass to finish the last drop of tea, waved over a waiter and ordered another. "I'm just saying, take it slow. I know you won't hurt her, but don’t assume she is going to accept your ring just because you want to get married."
"You're wrong, Bro. You'll see. As soon as I get home, we'll start making plans."
Then Quinn slipped his hand into his suit breast pocket and brought out a black velvet box. He placed it on the table and opened it to show Adam the large solitaire diamond.
"Think she'll like it?"
Adam raised a single eyebrow. "I don't know. Does she like diamonds?"
"What woman doesn’t like diamonds?"
Adam shook his head. "That means you don't know."
Quinn put the ring back in his pocket, finished the rest of his beer, and waited for Adam to speak his opinion.
Silence.
"What, nothing to say?"
"Don't take this the wrong way, but have you thought about the old man? He's going to blow his top when he sees Mia with another jock."
"That’s not my problem. Mia and I are adults. I know J. P. doesn’t like me, but I'm going to marry Mia, not him. He's going to have to learn to live with it."
"It's your funeral," Adam managed, again, saying a lot while saying so little. When dinner was finished, Quinn waved to the waiter for the check.
Adam was wrong. Mia loved him as much as he loved her. Simple.
He'd give her the ring, they'd make love all night, and then plan the wedding of the year.
No worries.
So why did Adam's words haunt Quinn through the rest of dinner?
He had to talk Mia now, hear her voice, so he'd know he was doing the right thing, and not rushing her.
***
Once back in his hotel room, Quinn shrugged out of his coat and suit jacket, placed them on his bed then reached for his cell phone.
He knew it was late, but he just wanted to hear her voice.
Pressing in her number, he sat on the edge of the bed and waited, heart racing, blood rushing through his veins.
"Hello."
He'd roused her from sleep. Her sexy, drowsy voice made him hard as stone. Would she be up to playing with him?
"What are you wearing?"
A soft breathy laugh. "Who is this?"
"Very funny."
It had seemed like a good idea to call Mia, but hearing that slumber tossed voice of hers had him aching for her. Not a good thing when they were six hundred miles away from each other. Damn.
"Just wanted to hear your voice, sweetheart. I miss you like crazy. Go back to sleep, ok?"
"Mmm," she moaned, and Quinn grew hard as stone. "Ok, miss you."
He smiled. "Miss you too, baby. And by the way, what are you wearing?"
Quinn heard her intake of breath, then a whisper. "Body lotion."
The call disconnected, and Quinn sat quietly on the edge of the bed, aching, aroused and wanting to be with her more than he wanted to breathe.
He made his way to the shower, ducked under the icy cold water,
and attempted to wish away the erotic vision of the gorgeous Mia in her bed, warm, naked, and without him.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, Quinn texted Mia from the bus, telling her he'd be home in half an hour and would she meet him at his apartment.
Since it was Sunday, Mia got dressed, left her building and hailed a cab. Mia couldn’t keep her thoughts on anything but Quinn.
A myriad of questions assailed her. Did she love him? Did she want to live without him?
He'd only been gone since Friday. She'd missed him. Couldn’t sleep, tossed and turned every night, craving his touch, missing his kiss, wanting him inside her.
The way he whispered in her ear when they made love. His husky cries of pleasure when he came.
"Quinn." Tears welled in her eyes as the cab driver reached their destination and she paid him.
Leaving the cab and nodding to the familiar doorman who tipped his hat, then held open the door with a friendly, "Miss Sinclair," Mia walked to an open elevator and pressed the button to the penthouse.
And all of a sudden, she realized how complete her life had been with Quinn a part of it.
The door to his penthouse apartment opened from the elevator and he was there, hands on his hips, legs apart, waiting for her.
Still in his suit and tie, he opened his arms to welcome her, wearing a wicked smile that melted Mia from her head to her toes.
He was her guy, and she loved him.
"Damn I missed you." He smiled as she raced into his arms.
"I missed you too." He picked her up effortlessly and kissed her hard, hot and full against her mouth.
"Oh God you feel so good," he murmured, tunneling his fingers through her hair, kissing her nose, eyes, cheeks. "I missed you like crazy."
"You already said that."
"Shut up and kiss me," he growled.
It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She giggled as they acted like hormone ridden teens, anxious to satisfy their primal urges.
Mia didn’t care about any of that. She just wanted him.
Playing for Keeps/Body Check (Rules of the Game) Page 12
