Lauren fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “I don’t mean to say that Coach isn’t good, just that he sometimes tries too hard. You know? I mean he’s a great coach. We’re so lucky to have him.”
So now she was doing damage control, probably afraid she’d said too much. “Don’t worry, Lauren. Your opinions are safe with me.” Yeah, right, like he didn’t have the power to turn this team on its head and spin it. And he most likely would. The information she fed him in bits and pieces all became part of that bigger puzzle being worked out in his brain.
“I don’t want to criticize anyone. I’m not in his position, so it’s not fair of me to second-guess his decisions. Too many other people are doing that.”
“I understand.” What the hell else was he to say? That the coach was most likely on the hot seat? That he already had his eye on the guy’s successor, a fiery, young, progressive assistant coach for another playoff team, who’d be a hot item once the playoffs ended.
Ethan stared down at the ice. The skaters circled and weaved during their warm-ups somewhat reminding him of hawks circling over a clearing while on the hunt. These guys had the same grace and fluid motions, and he never got tired of watching them.
His team.
He never got tired of watching Lauren, either, especially when she didn’t know he was. He loved how she leaned forward and grabbed the seat in front of her during the game, her face an intense study in concentration. She didn’t care what anyone thought and let loose when they scored or when a bad call happened. She called out her guys when they screwed up—not that they could hear her—and she literally jumped up and down in her seat when they executed a perfect pass or defensive move that stopped a score.
God, he loved so many things about her in such a short amount of time and keeping their relationship strictly business was killing him, especially when she cast longing glances at him. That definitely killed him.
Regardless, he was here for hockey, not for any other reason.
* * * *
Lauren sat in her office the next morning after four hours of sleep, her fingers wrapped around a strong cup of French roast coffee.
They’d flown back to Florida late last night after winning game five in Montreal. Coop had been on fire, and the Giants won by a score of 2-1. One more win and they’d advance to round two. Wow. Imagine that. Round two of the playoffs for a team not given a chance of even making the playoffs at all. Cooper and Cedric carried the team on their broad shoulders and inspired their young goaltender to reach new heights. Brick possessed this unique instinct, prized in goalies, of knowing where the puck was heading before the shot was taken. He’d made a few mistakes, but not a lot.
She was exhausted, but sleep hadn’t been an option. She couldn’t stop all the thoughts ping-ponging around in her brain—Ethan, Cooper, the team, her father, and everything else related to Ethan and the team. Sure, she had misgivings, but she wanted to trust Ethan, believe he only wanted the best for the team. Yet Ethan was just a middle man for nameless/faceless billionaires who’d control this team’s fate. No one could be worse than the Sleezers, and she had to keep reminding herself of that fact. Unless they uprooted the team.
Rubbing her bloodshot eyes, she stared at the headlines on the hockey sites. The wildcard Giants were gaining the attention of the entire NHL.
Kaley waltzed into Lauren’s office and dropped some mail on her desk. “Great game last night, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Incredible.” Lauren sat back and massaged the back of her neck. It didn’t help ease the tension. “How’s it been back here, holding down the fort for all of us?”
Concern flashed in Kaley’s eyes and put Lauren on instant alert.
Lauren sat up quickly. “What is it?”
Kaley didn’t look her in the eye. Instead she stacked and restacked the mail into a tidy, little pile.
Alarm rose in Lauren. Kaley didn’t usually let shit get to her, yet something obviously had.
Her friend abandoned the pile of mail and met Lauren’s gaze, her own deeply troubled. “I picked Brad up at the airport last night.”
“You didn’t sleep with him, did you?” Lauren shook her head and sighed, almost relieved it wasn’t anything more serious.
“No, it’s not that—not that I didn’t want to rip his clothes off and jump him right there on the luggage carousel, but no, I didn’t.”
“Then what is it?” Her fears flooded back, fears she’d been holding at bay since that morning they’d been told to play nice with Ethan.
Kaley turned around to shut Lauren’s door. She sat down in the seat next to Lauren and leaned forward, keeping her voice a whisper. “What do you know about Brad and Ethan? Who are they? Where are they from? Where do they live?”
Lauren thought for a moment, realizing she didn’t know a thing. “It’s never come up, and it’s none of my business.”
“Did you assume they were from the east coast, at least?”
Lauren nodded slowly. “Well, yeah.” Her stomach clenched as she fought back a wave of nausea. Please, dear God, no.
Kaley’s red lips pulled in a thin, grim line. She glanced around the room as if it were bugged, then whispered. “Brad’s plane flew in from Seattle.”
“Seattle?” A metallic taste filled Lauren’s mouth. She swallowed and got a grip on her emotions. Not Seattle. Not the very city stalking every NHL team in a tenuous position with crappy ownership, like the Giants. Especially the Giants.
“When I asked him about it, he blew it off, mumbled something about being in Seattle for business.”
“I’m sure that’s all it is.” Lauren didn’t believe her words. It all made sense, the deception, the secrecy, the mandate from the league that Ethan be given any information and access he required. Who was Ethan Williams? Really, who the hell was he? She’d Google him the first chance she got. And Brad? What the hell was Brad’s last name?
“I hope you’re right, but it did put a damper on getting any from Brad. He was anxious to go straight to his hotel, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me.” And Kaley’s prying eyes, no doubt.
“That’s troubling. What’s Brad’s last name again?”
“Richards, I think.” Kaley shrugged, all serious with none of her usual diva-may-care attitude. “I just thought you might want to know.”
“Thanks. Not sure what to make of it. My dad has similar concerns. He wants me to spy on Ethan, get some dirt. Dad’s part of another potential ownership group vying for this team.”
“What are you going to do?”
“My job. Right now the league has mandated we help Ethan so that’s what I’ll do.” Lauren sounded braver than she felt.
“I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.” Kaley headed for the door. Hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. “Lauren?”
Lauren glanced up from her computer screen. “Yes?”
“Don’t get burned.”
“Burned? By Ethan?”
“Of course, by Ethan. He has it bad for you, and you do for him.”
“You noticed?” Lauren didn’t attempt to deny it. Kaley saw through her as easily is if she were a window.
“It’s pretty obvious, but I know you.”
“I don’t get emotionally attached. Not anymore. I learned my lesson about sleeping with a player—on and off the ice.”
“Just be careful. This guy is a heartbreaker.” On that note, Kaley left her office, deserting Lauren and leaving her alone with her thoughts—disturbing thoughts that Ethan might well be screwing them all over, most of all her.
And, yes, that would break her heart, and she wasn’t sure her fragile heart could take another hit.
* * * *
When Ethan walked into Lauren’s office that morning, she appeared to be waiting for him, and whatever was on her mind wasn’t good. He tried a disarming smile. If her scowl was any indication, she’d reloaded instead of being disarmed.
He slid into the chair next to her desk and leaned back in a casual pose, clasping
his hands in front of him, fingers linked. “Great game last night. We just need one more win. The guys are playing their hearts out.”
“Sure are.” She spoke tensely.
Well, crap, not even hockey talk made a dent in her funk. He leaned forward, studying her closely. “Did I piss you off or something?”
Eyes blazing, she shot out of her chair, fists clenched, and started pacing the floor of her small office. Two steps down, two steps back. Damn, but she was attractive when she was pissed, all hot and passionate about what he hadn’t a frigging clue, but it definitely had to do with him.
Ethan waited and said nothing. He didn’t wait long.
Lauren stopped her pacing to stand before him, hands on hips, shoulders back defiantly, and gorgeous breasts pushed out. His gaze momentarily dropped to her chest, his mouth watered, and he licked his lips, swallowing hard. He forced his gaze back to her face, her very angry, very hurt face. Her eyes searched his, a little hurt, a lot mad.
“Who the fuck are you, Ethan Williams? Really? Who are you?” Her voice rose with each syllable.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at?” Ethan forced his face into an expression of pure innocence, faking his confusion, while his guts churned in a tsunami of regret that he couldn’t be honest with her.
“Where are you from? Where do you live? I’m not sure I ever heard you mention it.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” Ethan’s brain raced ahead, working on a way out of this. He couldn’t give her what she wanted, not with the league’s gag order and not without endangering his precarious grip on this team.
“Oh, but it is, it’s very relevant. Especially if the answer is Seattle.” Her eyes narrowed as they lasered into his.
Ethan stood, needing his height advantage in this battle of wills. “Seattle? Where it rains all the time? Sure, I go there often. I have residences in a few places. In fact, Seattle in the summer is the most beautiful place on earth.” Everything he said was the truth, albeit a little skewed.
“What other places do you have residences? In Florida, by chance?”
“Sure. Of course.” Did a hotel suite count? God, he hated lying to her and to everyone else. It went against his grain and how he liked to do business. He might have pissed a few people off with his forthrightness in the past, but they could never accuse him of being deceptive even if they didn’t like his message or his actions.
Lauren studied him for several seconds more, and he stared back at her with a calmness he sure as shit didn’t feel. Finally she blew out a long breath and sank into her desk chair. “You wanted to see a summary of salary comparisons between our lines and the rest of the league. Here they are.”
Grateful to be back to the task on hand, Ethan gladly moved to stand behind her desk. He leaned down to study her computer screen and breathed in the fresh scent of something spicy, like a sassy perfume meant for an outdoors type girl. God, how he’d love to take her hiking in the Olympic Mountains or for a walk along the shoreline at Alki Beach or sailing on Puget Sound. If she gave the Pacific Northwest a chance, she’d love it there.
Ethan leaned closer—he couldn’t resist—his head next to hers. Just a few inches and they’d be kissing, and kissing her definitely appealed to him, and it shouldn’t. Oh, fucking hell, it shouldn’t, but her fiery confrontation had excited him, pushed some of his severely taxed caution to the point of no return.
Lauren’s hand shook on the mouse. He suppressed a smile, feeling pretty damn smug that she was as susceptible to him as he was to her. No one should go through this torture alone.
Somehow he’d convince her to come to Seattle with him, once he could tell her he was moving the team, if she didn’t castrate him when she found out about his deception. He chuckled out loud; he expected nothing less from her.
“What’s so amusing?” She tilted her head, leaning away from him, and looking up to meet his gaze. Ethan sucked in a breath. She was so damned alluring.
Needing to break the spell, he walked to her window, hands clasped behind his back so she couldn’t see how bat-shit crazy she made him. “Remind me later to share with you.”
Lauren couldn’t seem to let well enough alone. In seconds she stood next to him, staring out the same window, seeing the same things with her eyes, but most likely seeing them very differently.
A lock of her tidy brown hair escaped from her bun and fell across her cheek. She reached up to brush it away, but Ethan caught her hand to stop her in a purely spontaneous reaction. With his free hand, he tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. She smiled up at him, and her lips parted in that age-old silent invitation to be kissed.
Oh, God, he wanted to kiss her in the worst way. He dropped her hand and framed her face in his big hands, stroking her high cheekbones with his index fingers. She shivered but made no move to get away.
“Ethan,” she whispered in a sexy, throaty whisper that sent a rush of lust to his groin.
“Lauren,” he responded, his own voice raspy.
She stared into his eyes, her hazel eyes troubled and full of earnest questions, most likely fueled by her suspicious, which were well founded. Ethan held his breath, sensing another tough question coming his way.
“Is your primary residence in Seattle?”
He couldn’t lie again to her, just couldn’t. So he did the only thing he could think of to change the subject and give her something else to fixate on.
He kissed her.
Oh, yeah, he kissed her. He intended for it to be a brush of the lips, enough to distract her. But her eyes glazed over, and she closed them just as his lips touched hers. Warning bells clanged in his head and he silenced them mentally without effort, a testament to how committed he was to doing the wrong thing because it felt so fucking right.
Her kiss tasted like warm, soft rain on a Seattle summer day and lapped at the corners of his soul like gentle waves lapping across the sandy beach below his home. He felt as lightheaded as a teenager experiencing those first heady emotions of a new love. But this was not love and Ethan was no teenager and neither was Lauren. She was an adult woman, and he was a man, and this man wasn’t strong enough to resist.
Lauren made this sound halfway between a purr and a whimper and grasped his shoulders. He ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, and she immediately opened for him. Ethan slipped his tongue inside, tasting, touching, dancing. He pulled her closer, their bodies pressed against each other. Lauren snaked her arms around his neck, and she kissed him as passionately as he’d kissed her, as if they hadn’t a concern in the world.
And they had plenty of concerns said his fucking annoying voice of conscience. Ethan ignored it and buried his fingers in her silky hair.
“Lauren?” Kaley rapped on the office door.
“Fuck,” they muttered in unison a split second before they shot apart as if they’d been shocked by a Taser. Lauren’s cheeks were flushed, her bun lopsided, and she tugged her shirt to smooth out the wrinkles then patted a hand on her messed-up bun.
“Lauren? Can you take a call?” Kaley spoke again from behind the closed door.
Lauren swallowed and cleared her throat, visibly composing herself. “Ethan and I are working on a project. Take a message, please.”
Silence for a moment, and Ethan knew they hadn’t fooled Kaley one bit. “Okay.”
Lauren turned to Ethan, her face reflecting an array of conflicting emotions. “We shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” Ethan said with total honesty. He might be forced to lie about everything else, but he’d be damned if he’d lie about this.
“But we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know, but we did, and I don’t regret it. Maybe it’s not the best idea. For the record, I don’t normally come on to women I work with.” Except for that one dumbass mistake.
“I don’t either.”
“Come on to women you work with?” He grinned, lightening the tone.
“Men, seriously.
You know what I mean.” She smiled, too, and it lit up her face, removing some of the worry lines.
“I do.”
“Ethan, this can’t happen again.” She glanced at the door, probably mentally cataloguing how many people on the other side of that door suspected what was going on.
“No, it can’t.” He meant it, just wasn’t sure if he could do it.
“We have to keep this totally business.”
“Totally business.”
“We’re colleagues in a sense.”
“Absolutely, colleagues.”
“And we’ll keep it strictly professional from now on.”
“Strictly professional.”
“Would you stop repeating me?”
He chuckled, breaking through their earlier discomfort after the kiss. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.” As long as she didn’t mention Seattle—if she did, all bets were off. He’d kiss the hell out of her to keep from answering the Seattle question, to postpone seeing the inevitable pain of betrayal in her expressive eyes. He didn’t want to be an ass in her book. He wanted to be the hero, but fat chance that’d happen. Not once she knew the truth.
She slipped into her cool businesswoman mode. “We need to get back to work. About those salaries. Let me send the report to you, and you can go over it on your iPad.”
Ethan nodded, retreating to his office space, feeling like a kid who’d been scolded by his teacher. Wicked thoughts of Lauren dressed as a teacher complete with a paddle and sexy glasses instantly came to mind.
Crap, this had to stop.
He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, opening the report, and getting back to work.
As if he’d be able to concentrate.
Chapter 7—Face Off
For the next week, Lauren pretended as if nothing had happened between Ethan and her, no panty-melting kiss, no shiver at the mere mention of his name, no late night dreams starring a certain gorgeous businessman. Yeah, but on the inside she knew better. She was a hot mess of mixed emotions, misplaced loyalties, and nagging uncertainties. Ethan, meanwhile, acted as if it never happened. Never. A guy as sexy, gorgeous, and most likely rich as him probably kissed women so frequently that it didn’t matter.
Skating on Thin Ice: Seattle Sockeyes (Game On in Seattle Book 1) Page 7
