“Get a doctor in here. Now!” screamed the coach, shoving the team out of the way. “And get that goddamned photographer out of here before she ruins my whole team.”
Tears coursed down her cheeks as she rushed out of the ice rink. She didn’t stop until she got to her room. Brenna plopped down on the bed and buried her face in her pillow. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Forget that she was going to get fired. Forget that she single handedly destroyed Frank’s business. Forget how embarrassed she was and how awful she felt. Her careless mistake had hurt Cole, possibly ruined his chances to play in the biggest game of his life.
She had to go see him. She had to make sure he was okay. Brenna got up, washed her face, and reapplied her makeup in an attempt to hide the fact that she’d been crying. It wasn’t very successful. Oh well, she didn’t have time to worry about how she looked. Brenna quickly found the medical building and located Cole. She peeked into his room to find him sitting on a bed, foot propped up on a pillow, and an ice bag taped to his ankle.
“Hey,” she said, walking into the room. “How bad is it?” She nodded at his foot.
He shrugged. “It’s not broken.”
“That’s good.” She sighed with relief. “Look, I’m not exactly sure what happened back there, but—”
“You blinded me with that damn flash.”
“I am so sorry, Cole. I—”
“You and that stupid camera should come with a warning,” he snapped.
“Maybe if you hadn’t stolen my camera … ” She started, and then stopped just as quickly. Yeah he’d taken her camera without her knowledge or permission, but he hadn’t really stolen it. He had returned it.
Cole adjusted his position on the bed and glared at her. “Were you seriously born without a sense of humor, a sense of fun? Or do you just enjoy being fucking miserable all the time?”
Brenna squeezed her hands into fists, her fingernails biting into her palms. He was just like every other athlete she’d ever had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. “I said I was sorry.” Her jaw was clenched tight, and her anger was simmering to a boiling point.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, turning his face away from her.
“Unbelievable!” She threw her hands up in the air. “And to think I was worried about you. God, I’m such an idiot.” Brenna turned and walked out of the room, but stopped in the hallway when she heard Cole’s voice.
“Brenna!” There was a rustle in the room, and then Cole’s voice again. “Ouch. Son of a bitch. Damn it, Brenna! Come back here,” he shouted.
She considered it for a brief moment, but thought better of it. If she went back in there, she was sure to say something mean to him, and that would only make things worse. It was best if she just left. So she did.
***
Outside, Brenna heard a loud commotion. She went to the window and watched a large crowd of people make their way through the Olympic village. The shine of medals hanging around some of their necks reflected off the snow. She smiled at their victory, wondering if Cole and his team would get to celebrate like that. Not if I’m around, she thought bitterly as she turned away from the window. The sound of her cell phone ringing snapped her out of her pity party.
It was Frank. She cringed as she answered. “Hello?”
“What the fuck are you doing, Brenna? Are you trying to destroy this company?” he shouted.
Frank never was one to beat around the bush. “No.” She sighed. “Look, I can explain. I—”
“You’d better damn well explain! I just got an earful from the team manager about nude photos of Colton on the internet and something about blinding him during practice with a camera flash. Christ, Brenna, he’s the best player on the team. You might as well steal the gold and piss on it.”
Brenna put her hand over her stomach, which was in knots. She’d seen Frank’s temper before, but she’d never experienced it firsthand. “He stole my camera, Frank. Cole stole my camera and took those pictures on his own. He must’ve—”
“I don’t give a shit if he tea bagged the lens and got ball sweat all over it. He’s the client! He can do whatever the hell he wants!”
He was shouting so loud, she held the phone away from her ear and was still able to hear him clearly. “For the record, yes he was nude, but there was nothing inappropriate showing. I made sure of that before I posted them, and I never meant to make them public. I don’t know how that happened.”
“That’s no excuse,” he continued. “You’re a goddamned professional, Brenna.”
“I know,” she snapped, pacing the room. “But, damn it, Frank, I didn’t want this job in the first place. I begged you to send someone else.”
“So, what, you’re going to sabotage the whole company?”
She went to the window again and rested her head on the glass, hoping the coolness of it would calm her a little. “No, of course not.” Her voice was full of defeat. “In my defense, though, that man hasn’t stopped hitting on me since I met him. I’m fed up. And what happened today at the rink, that was a mistake.” She momentarily closed her eyes. “I should’ve checked my equipment before I started shooting.”
“Make it right.”
“What?” She felt her own temper getting the better of her. After everything she just told him, that’s the response she got? Unbelievable! Frank had always had her back, always respected and supported her.
“You heard me. I don’t care if you have to clean his hockey puck with your toothbrush and spit shine his hockey stick. Make this right, Brenna, or you won’t have a job to come back to. None of us will.” Then he hung up.
Brenna threw her phone onto the bed with a frustrated scream. God, she hated the fucking Olympics! She hated Cole and Switzerland and the snow and her job and her boss. She just hated everything. Fuming, she began to pace again. Who cares if she didn’t have a job to go back to? She’d been planning for years to open her own studio. Now was her chance to do it.
Her phone rang again. “What now?” she answered.
“Good job on the welcome party pics. They’re fantastic,” Frank said.
“Thanks.” Brenna plopped down on the bed and chewed nervously on her pinky nail.
A moment of silence ensued before Frank said, “You’re the best photographer I have, Brenna. Don’t let me down, kiddo.”
Brenna hung her head and shook it slowly. Frank hadn’t called her kiddo in years. The endearment brought back memories of the day her mother died, of how he’d been the only one to comfort her. He was more of a father to her that day than her real father had been. She sighed. “I won’t, Frank, I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”
“Good, good.”
Even though she couldn’t see him, she knew without a doubt that he was shaking his head in that way he always did. The mental image made her smile.
“Have some fun while you’re there, too, but no more posting photos on the internet,” Frank said, and then hung up.
Brenna clutched the phone in her hands for a little while longer before finally putting it down and standing. It was time to go find Cole and make things right. She’d made a promise to Frank, a promise she would die to keep if necessary.
Chapter Five
Cole sat on his bed, ankle propped up on a pillow with an ice pack resting on it, tossing a hockey puck in the air, and then catching it. He couldn’t believe his luck. Here he was, in Switzerland, at the friggin’ Olympics, and he was stuck in his room, missing all the fun. It was all so stupid, too, because he really didn’t need to be on bed rest. The doctor said he was fine. It was just a little bruised and sore. But coach had insisted that Cole go straight back to his room and rest up for the game tomorrow.
It was all that damn woman’s fault. Brenna Jessup. God, she was driving him insane. And not in a good way, either. He couldn’t figure her out and that only served to irritate him more. What was her deal? One minute she’s giving him the cold shoulder. The next she’s giving him a taste of his own medicine by pull
ing a clever and rather sneaky prank on him. Then she’s so hot, so full of passion he couldn’t stand it. And now she’s back to being cold and distant. What the fuck?
So maybe he’d come on to her a little strong. Not all women liked that sort of thing. But what happened today? Had she intentionally tried to blind him with that flash? Why would she do that? Did she really dislike him that much? He’d never been the type of man to quit or give up on anything, but he knew if he didn’t give up on this woman, she’d be the death of him. It was time to cut his losses and move on. There were plenty of woman that would be happy to have his attention. Why waste his time on a woman who clearly had zero interest in him?
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Yeah, it’s open,” he hollered, fully expecting to see coach or one of his teammates.
“Hi,” she said quietly as she entered the room and closed the door.
“Hi.” Brenna was the very last person he expected to see.
“I just wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing. How’s the ankle?”
“Fine.”
“Good.” She averted her gaze to his ankle then back up to his face. “Look, I really want you to know how sorry I am about all of this. I don’t know what happened—”
“I’ll tell you what happened. You blinded me with that damn flash and I lost my balance. So did Rick, who ran into me.”
Brenna shifted her gaze down and nodded. “I’m sorry. I made a rookie mistake, and I should’ve known better.”
“Yeah, you should’ve.” It may just be a mistake to her, but it wasn’t to him. Didn’t she realize that she could’ve seriously hurt him? That her carelessness could’ve cost him his spot on the Olympic team?
“Well maybe if you hadn’t fucked with all the settings when you took my camera, this never would’ve happened.”
“Now it’s my fault that you don’t know how to do your job? That’s fucking priceless, Brenna, really.” He looked away from her and out the window, knowing if he continued to look at her he was going to say a hell of a lot more that probably shouldn’t be said. Cole continued to throw and catch the hockey puck.
“Unbelievable.” Brenna sighed. “I came here to apologize, to try and come to some sort of truce with you and you’re acting like a petulant child.”
Cole counted to five, took a deep breath, and looked at her. “You really don’t like me, do you?”
Brenna sighed. “No, it’s not you. It’s Olympic athletes in general.”
Ouch! She didn’t pull any punches, did she? “So if I wasn’t an athlete you wouldn’t be such a bitch? Is that what you’re saying?”
“You’re all the same,” she said, taking a step back toward the door, her hand resting on the doorknob.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Cole noticed the way her breasts pushed up when she crossed her arms over her chest. Her cleavage was clearly visible to him from where he sat. It was only then that he realized she’d changed out of the sweater she’d had on earlier.
“You athletes, you’re all the same. You’re a bunch of spoiled rotten, self-obsessed, over-indulged rich kids who do whatever the hell you please without any regard for anyone else. You think the fucking world should bow at your feet. Well, guess what, Cole? I’m not one of those people,” she shouted, pointing at her chest. “Good luck tomorrow. I’m out of here.”
Brenna opened the door. Cole was on his feet in an instant, slamming the door closed with his palm before Brenna could get away. A sharp pain shot from his ankle and up his leg. It wasn’t severe enough to cause him to stop or to wince in pain, but it was definitely noticeable. “Over my dead body,” he said through clenched teeth. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
“I know enough,” she said, keeping her back to him.
Cole spun her around so that she had no choice but to face him. His hands were flat on the door on either side of her head, which was still down. He didn’t care, though. She’d said her piece, and now it was his turn. “Then I guess you know that my mother left me when I was five, that she wiped out the family savings, and that my father worked two jobs to pay the bills and keep our house. And I’m sure you also know that when I got too old for daycare, my father put me on the ice to keep me from getting into trouble. He took on a third job just to pay for my lessons. I’ve never had anything handed to me, Brenna. Never! Everything I have, I have because I’ve worked damn hard for it. So don’t stand there with your superior attitude and tell me that—”
Brenna grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him to her, and pressed her lips to his; silencing him with a kiss that was ten times hotter than the one they shared last night. Cole wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet. To his surprise, she put her legs around him and put her hands around his neck, her fingernails grazing along the nape of his neck sending a shot of adrenaline laced desire to his groin. He pinned her against the door and deepened the kiss. His erection was pressed between her thighs, straining painfully against his jeans.
“Cole,” she murmured, and then moaned when his tongue delved deeper into her mouth.
“Shit,” he said on an exhale, dragging his lips along her jaw line and down her neck. “God, Brenna, I want you.” He nipped at her earlobe. “I want you so bad.” His hands went to the hem of her shirt, and using his hips to keep her pinned against the door, he jerked it off over her head.
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper. She arched her head back, granting him greater access. “I want you, too, Cole.”
He continued to kiss along her neck and collarbone until he just couldn’t stand it any longer; then he found her lips again, claiming them as his own. She tasted incredible, so hot and eager. Man, was she eager. Her tongue dueled with his for dominance, and for a moment, he let her have control, luxuriating in how apparent her need for him was. Finally, he’d managed to crack through her icy exterior. Who knew getting angry and spilling the truth about his hard childhood would lead to this? Cole jerked his head back and looked at her. “No stopping?”
Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing, bumping against his. “I’ll beat you with your own hockey stick if you do.”
Cole laughed. “Sounds kinky.”
“I promise you there will be nothing kinky about it.” She leaned forward and caught his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging on it before sucking it into her mouth and kissing it.
He groaned as he lifted her from the door. Carrying her to his bed, he laid her down and positioned himself over her, his hands on either side of her head and his weight primarily in his arms. “What if I like kinky?”
Brenna laughed—a full blown, genuine laugh. Cole’s heart soared at the melodic sound. “Then you’re in bed with the wrong girl.”
“I highly doubt that,” he said, capturing her lips in another kiss. There was nothing wrong with being in bed with Brenna. In fact, it was right, so right it scared him a little. He lowered his body fully down onto hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her. Cole left her mouth and made his way down her body, lingering in the valley between her breasts before unhooking the clasp at the front and swirling his tongue around her nipple.
She speared her fingers into his hair and arched into him. He moved from one breast to the other and then back again, teasing her nipples until they were hardened, rosy peaks. “Mmm, so pretty,” he cooed as he continued down her body, licking and kissing her flat stomach. When he reached her jeans, he swiftly undid them, kissing every inch of bare skin that became exposed as he pulled them off—the indentation of her hip; her soft, creamy legs; her toes; the back of her knees; up the interior of her thighs, stopping only long enough to plant a firm kiss on her panty clad sex before working his way back up to her mouth.
Brenna squirmed beneath him as if she simultaneously wanted more and wanted him to stop. No stopping. They’d agreed. Not that he wanted to stop anyway, but the threat of being beat with his hockey stick was pretty good motivation in and of itself. He
smiled at the thought.
“Cole,” she whimpered, grasping at his shirt.
With one hand, he grabbed the back of his shirt and tore it off over his head. Before he could press his bare flesh to hers, Brenna reached up and trailed her fingers across his pecs and down his chest. Her touch was soft and hesitant at first, but then, as she grazed her hand along his stomach, it became firmer and more assured. The contact sent a chill through his body; his skin erupted in goose bumps. “That feels so good,” he said.
She smiled up at him. “You haven’t felt anything yet.” Brenna’s hands went to his jeans. Unbuttoning and unzipping them, she tugged them down over his hips just far enough for her to slide her hand into his boxers. Her delicate fingers curled around his shaft, squeezing gently, and then stroking up his length, drawing out a long, throaty moan from him.
“Shit, Brenna.” His hips pushed forward involuntarily.
Smiling, she licked her bottom lip, her hazel eyes twinkled with more green than brown. Cole hadn’t expected her eyes to alternate colors like that. He was momentarily stunned by it. Then she rubbed her thumb over the sensitive head of his erection, and he was right back in the present. He moaned and thrust his hips forward again. Brenna released him and pushed his jeans and boxers down until they were bunched around his bent knees. Propping herself up on her elbows, she took him into her mouth. The feel of her hot tongue swirling around his tip was enough to bring him to orgasm right then, but he refused to give in to his needs before he had the chance to feel what it was like to be buried inside of her.
“Mmm.” She sucked him deep into the back of her throat.
Cole had no choice but to lean forward and put his hand on the wall to steady himself. Holy hell, it felt so good, too good. It should be illegal the way she licked and sucked on him, teasing him. He gathered her hair in his hand and held it away from her face. God, she looked good with him in her mouth. The harder she sucked, the more her cheeks would hollow. Slowly, he slid in and out of her mouth. His head fell back to his shoulders and his lips parted on a moan.
Love and Other Games Page 10
