“We’re almost there,” Howie told her as they headed down a hallway cluttered with men in suits or dressed in Chinooks team colors. They hurried past a closed door marked “Dressing Room” and took another right through a set of double doors.
And there John sat, chatting with a television reporter in front of a big blue Chinooks banner. Hair damp and skin shining, he looked like a man who’d played hard, but he didn’t look hurt. He’d removed his jersey and shoulder pads and wore a blue T-shirt that was wet and stuck to his big chest. He still had on his hockey shorts, ribbed socks, and big protective pads on his legs, but his skates were gone. Even without all his gear, he looked huge.
“Tkachuk put a good hit on you in the last five minutes of the game. How are you feeling?” the reporter asked, then shoved a microphone in John’s face.
“I’m feeling pretty good. I’m going to have a bruise, but that’s hockey.”
“Any plans to retaliate in the future?”
“Not at all, Jim. I had my head down, and around a guy like Tkachuk, you have to be on your game at all times.” He wiped his face with a short towel, then glanced about the room. He spotted Georgeanne standing in the doorway and smiled.
“The game was tied tonight. Are you satisfied with that?”
John turned his attention back to the man interviewing him. “Of course, we’re never satisfied with anything less than a win. We obviously need to take better advantage of power plays. And we also need to get some momentum going in our offense.”
“At thirty-five, you’re still ranked among the top players. How do you do it?”
He grinned and chuckled softly. “Oh, probably years of clean living.”
The reporter and cameraman laughed also. “What does the future hold for John Kowalsky?”
He looked in Georgeanne’s direction and pointed. “That depends on that woman right over there.”
Everything within Georgeanne froze, and she slowly turned to look behind her. The hall was filled with men.
“Georgeanne, honey, I’m talking to you. ”
She spun back around and pointed to herself.
“Remember last night when I told you that I would only get married when I’m crazy in love?”
She nodded.
“Well, you know I’m crazy in love with you.” He stood in his stockinged feet and held his hand out toward her. In a daze she walked toward him and put her hand in his. “I warned you that I wouldn’t play fair.” He grasped her shoulders and forced her to sit in the chair he’d just vacated. Then he glanced at the cameraman. “Are we still on?”
“Yep.”
Georgeanne looked up and her vision started to blur. She reached for him, and he grabbed her hand.
“Don’t touch me, honey. I’m a little sweaty.” Then he went down on one knee and looked her in the eye. “When we met seven years ago, I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m a different man now, and part of the reason I’m different is because of you. You came back into my life and made it better. When you walk into a room, I feel warm like you’ve brought the sun with you.” He paused and squeezed her hand. A bead of sweat slid down his temple and his voice shook a little when he spoke. “I’m not a poet or a romantic, and I don’t know the words to accurately express what I feel for you. I only know that you are the breath in my lungs, the beat of my heart, the ache in my soul, and without you, I am empty.” He pressed his hot mouth into her open palm and closed his eyes. When he looked at her again, his gaze was very blue and very intense. He reached inside the waistband of his hockey shorts and pulled out an emerald-cut blue diamond of at least four carats. “Marry me, Georgie.”
“Oh my Lord!” She could hardly see and wiped her eyes with her free fingers. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She sucked air into her lungs and looked from the ring back into John’s face. “Is this real?”
“Of course,” he answered, slightly offended. “Did you think I’d get you one of those fake diamonds?”
“I’m not talking about the ring.” She shook her head and wiped at the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Do you really want to marry me?”
“Yes. I want us to grow old together and have five more children. I’ll make you happy, Georgeanne. I promise.”
She gazed at his handsome face and her heart pounded. He wasn’t taking any chances. He had a television camera, a big diamond, and a crushing grip on her hand. Last night she’d wondered if he’d choose her. She’d wondered what she’d do if he did. Now she knew the answer to both questions. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time.
“Jesus,” he sighed, relief flooding his features. “You had me worried.”
Out in the stands, thunderous applause rolled through the arena, chased by a maelstrom of several thousand cheering fans. The walls of the arena shook with their enthusiastic response.
John looked over his shoulder to the cameraman. “Are we patched into the Jumbotron?”
The man gave a thumbs-up sign, and John turned his attention back to Georgeanne. He took her left hand and kissed her knuckles. “I love you,” he said, and slid the ring on her finger.
Georgeanne wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened herself against him. “I love you, John,” she sobbed into his ear.
He stood with her clinging to his neck and glanced at the men in the room. “That’s it,” he told them, and the camera was shut off. Georgeanne clung to him as they were congratulated, and she didn’t let go even after the last man filed out of the room.
“I’m getting you all sweaty,” John said, smiling down at her.
“I don’t care. I love you, and I love your sweat, too.” She rose onto her toes and pressed against him.
He gathered her close. “Good, because you’re responsible for a lot of it. There were a few seconds there when I thought you might say no.”
“When did you plan all of this?”
“I bought the ring in St. Louis four days ago, and I talked to the television guys this morning.”
“Were you so sure I’d say yes?”
He shrugged. “I told you I wasn’t going to play fair.”
She leaned back and kissed him. She’d waited a long time for this moment, and she poured her heart into it. Their mouths met, open and wet. She slanted her head to one side and licked the tip of his tongue. Her hands slid along his shoulders, up his neck, and into his damp hair.
Lust tugged at John’s groin, and he pulled away from Georgeanne’s sweet kiss. “Stop,” he groaned, and bending his knees, he shoved a hand inside his shorts and adjusted himself. His hard plastic cup pinched his testicles like a nutcracker, and he sucked in his breath to keep from swearing in front of Georgeanne. “My jock is getting real snug.”
“Take it off.”
“It’s about four layers down, and there’s something I have to do before I start peeling to my skin.” He straightened and read disappointment in her tilty green eyes.
“What could be more important than peeling down to your skin?”
“Nothing.” She wanted him, and the fact that she did filled him with macho, chest-pounding pleasure. He loved her in a way he’d never loved anyone else. He loved her as a friend, as a woman he respected, and as a lover he wanted every minute of every day. And she loved him. He didn’t know why she loved him. He was an ornery hockey player who swore too much, but he wasn’t about to question his good fortune.
Now he wanted nothing more than to take her home and strip her naked, but he had one last piece of unfinished business first. He took her hand and pulled her with him out of the room and down the hallway. “I just need to clear something up before I can leave.”
Her steps slowed. “Virgil?”
“Yep.” Worry puckered the skin between her brows, and he stopped and put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you afraid of him?”
She shook her head. “He’s going to make you choose, isn’t he? He’s going to tell you to choose me or your team.”
A tr
ainer walked past him on the way to the dressing room, and John moved closer to Georgeanne to allow the man by.
“Congratulations, Wall,” he said.
John nodded. “Thanks.”
Georgeanne tangled her fingers in the front of his T-shirt. “I don’t want you to choose.”
He returned his attention to Georgeanne and kissed the worry from her brow. “There was never a choice. I never would have chosen a hockey team over you.”
“Then Virgil will fire you, won’t he?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Virgil can’t fire me, honey. He can trade me to a team below five hundred if he wants to, or worse, I could find myself wearing a duck on my sweater. But only if I don’t beat him to it.”
“Huh?”
He squeezed her hand. “Come on. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go home.” Last week he’d given his agent the green light to contact Pat Quinn, the general manager of the Vancouver Canucks. Vancouver was a two-hour drive from Seattle and needed a first-line center. John needed to control his future.
With Georgeanne by his side, he walked into Virgil’s office. “I thought I’d find you here,” he said.
Virgil looked up from the fax on his desk. “You’ve been busy. I see your agent has contacted Quinn. Have you seen the offer?”
“Yep.” John closed the door behind him and wrapped his arm around Georgeanne’s waist. “Three players and two draft picks.”
“You’re thirty-five. I’m surprised he offered so much.”
John didn’t think he was surprised at all. It was the usual trade for a team’s captain or any franchise players. “I’m the best,” he stated.
“I wished you’d talked to me first.”
“Why? The last time we talked, you told me to choose Georgeanne or my team. But you know what? I didn’t even have to think about it.”
Virgil looked at Georgeanne and then returned his gaze to John. “That was quite a show you just put on a few minutes ago.”
John pulled Georgeanne tight against his side. “I don’t do anything half-assed.”
“No, you don’t. But you’ve risked a lot, not to mention the possibility of getting a rejection broadcast on ESPN.”
“I knew she’d say yes.”
Georgeanne looked at him and raised one brow. “A little cocky, aren’t you?”
John leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Honey, ‘little’ and ‘cocky’ are two words a man just never wants to hear strung together in the same sentence.” He watched her blush, and chuckled. But there had been those horrible seconds when he hadn’t felt so “cocky.” The sick moments when she hadn’t answered his proposal, and he’d had a hazy thought of tossing her over his shoulder and running out of the room, kidnapping her until she said what he wanted to hear.
“What do you want, Wall?”
John turned his attention to Virgil. “Pardon?”
“I asked what you wanted.”
He kept a straight face, but he was smiling inside.
Checkmate. The old bastard had been bluffing. “For what?”
“I made a very rash and extremely poor business decision when I threatened to trade you. What do you want to stay?”
John rocked back on his heels and appeared to give the question some thought, but he’d already anticipated Virgil’s backpedaling. “A second-line enforcer might persuade me to overlook the fact that you threatened to trade me. And I’m not talking about a fourth-line rookie you can pick up for spare change. I want an experienced hockey man. Someone who isn’t afraid to play the corners and hang out in front of the net. Big. Low center of gravity. Hits like a freight train. You’re going to have to cough up good money for a guy like that.”
Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Work on a list and give it to me it the morning.”
“Sorry, I’ll be busy tonight.” Georgeanne stuck her elbow in his ribs, and he looked into her face. “What? You’ll be busy, too.”
“Fine,” Virgil said. “Give it to me next week. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to take care of.”
“There’s one more thing.”
“A million-dollar enforcer isn’t enough?”
“No.” John shook his head. “Apologize to my fiancйe.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Georgeanne sputtered. “Really, John. Mr. Duffy gave you what you wanted. I think the gracious-”
“Let me take care of this,” John interrupted.
Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly why would I apologize to Miss Howard?”
“Because you hurt her feelings. She told you she was sorry for running out on your wedding, but you threw her apology back in her face. Georgie is very sensitive.” He gave her a little squeeze. “Aren’t you, baby doll?”
Virgil stood and glanced from John to Georgeanne. He cleared his throat several times and his face turned red. “I accept your apology, Miss Howard. Now will you please accept mine?”
John thought Virgil could do a little better and opened his mouth to tell him to try again, but Georgeanne stopped him.
“Of course,” she said, and placed her palm on John’s back. She looked up at him and slid her hand down his spine. “Let’s leave Mr. Duffy to his work,” she suggested, a gleam of love and maybe a bit of laughter in her eyes.
He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and walked from the room. He held her against his side as they slowly walked down the hall toward the locker rooms, and he thought of the dream he’d had after he’d returned home early that morning. Instead of the erotic dream he usually had of Georgeanne, he’d dreamed of waking up in a huge, flowery bed surrounded by giggly little girls jumping all around. Sissy girls with sissy dogs, all looking at him as if he were a superhero for killing spiders and saving tiny fish.
He wanted the dream. He wanted Georgeanne. He wanted a life surrounded by dark-haired little chatter hounds, Barbie dolls, and hairless dogs. He wanted lacy beds, flowered wallpaper, and a woman with a sexy southern voice whispering in his ear.
He smiled and slid his hand up Georgeanne’s arm to her shoulder. Even if they never had any more children, he had everything he wanted.
He had it all.
Epilogue
Georgeanne stood on the steps of the Princeville Hotel on the island of Kauai. The tropical sun warmed her bare shoulders and the top of her head. It had taken her several days to completely master her sarong, but she now wore the fuchsia flowered material tied behind her neck and covering her swimsuit. She’d stuck a big orchid behind one ear and laced a pair of pink Hercules sandals up her ankles. She felt very feminine and thought of Lexie. Lexie would have loved Kauai. She would have loved the beautiful beaches and cool blue water. Lexie would have to settle for a T-shirt. Georgeanne and John needed time to themselves and had left their daughter with Ernie and John’s mother.
A rented Jeep Cherokee rolled to a stop next to the curb. The driver’s-side door swung open, and her heart swelled beneath her breast. She loved to watch John move. He was filled with supreme confidence and walked with the fluid assurance of a man at ease with himself. Only a man comfortable in his own skin would have chosen to wear that particular blue shirt with huge red flowers and big green leaves. He was so self-assured, he sometimes overwhelmed her a little. If she’d let John have his way, they would have been married the day after he’d proposed. She’d been able to hold him off for a month so she could plan a nice wedding at a little chapel in Bellevue.
They’d been married a week now, and she loved him more each day. Sometimes her feelings were too big, and she couldn’t hold them all in. She’d catch herself staring into space and smiling, or laughing for no reason at all, unable to contain her happiness. She’d given John her trust and her heart. In return, he made her feel secure and loved with an intensity that sometimes took her breath away.
Her gaze followed him as he walked around the four-wheel-drive. He opened the passenger door, then he turned and smiled up at her. Georgeanne remembered the first time she’d
ever seen him, standing next to a red Corvette, broad-shouldered and gorgeous, looking like her savior.
“Aloha, mister,” she called to him as she descended the stairs.
A frown wrinkled his brows. “Are you naked beneath that thing?”
She stopped in front of him and shrugged one shoulder. “Depends. Are you a hockey player?”
“Yep.” A smile smoothed away his frown. “Do you like hockey?”
“No.” Georgeanne shook her head and lowered her voice, affecting the rich southern drawl she knew drove him wild. “But I could probably make an exception in your case, sugar.”
He reached for her and slid his hands up her bare arms. “You want my body, don’t you?”
“I can’t help myself,” Georgeanne sighed, and again shook her head. “I’m a weak woman, and you’re simply irresistible.”
RACHEL GIBSON
A past recipient of the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart award, RACHEL GIBSON makes her home in Boise, Idaho, with her husband, three children, two cats, and a hyper dog.
Rachel began writing shortly after she was given a personality test to determine job suitability. The test results strongly suggested that she become a nun. Since she was already married, and not Catholic, she turned to writing.
Rachel is an avid hockey fan, enjoys forensic science, and is a sucker for a happy ending.
***
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