The Sport of Romance: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Cari Quinn

The possibility shook him to the core.

  As training camp drew to a close, the time arrived for the roster to be pared to the final twenty-three players. Sebastian’s stomach churned at the possibility of being sent back to the minors. They had already dismissed the college and junior players and put two others on waivers. He’d done his best and could only hope it was good enough.

  The entire team was on edge. Even the veterans who were assured of a spot milled around. Finally, they gathered everybody together in the stands and announced the roster.

  When Sebastian heard his name on the list, a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. As a big grin broke out, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His teammates congratulated him, and after accepting heaps of backslapping, he excused himself.

  He had to see Sarah, to talk to her. There was no one he wanted to celebrate with more than her. His parents were the only other people he wanted to tell, and even they would have to wait until later.

  He’d spent the last couple of weeks finding reasons to stop by her office and defending her methods to some of the guys. With a shiver, he fully comprehended for the first time how important Sarah was to him.

  He found her in her office watching video with her back to the door. He charged in, kicking the door shut behind him. She whirled in her chair, her hand flying up to cover her heart. “Sebastian, you scared me!” Her eyebrows drew down. “What?”

  “They announced the final roster and I am on it. Did you have anything to do with that?” He was torn between wanting to know she went to bat for him and hoping she hadn’t had to.

  “No. Jon and Keith solely were responsible for the final decisions. Doug and I gave them our analysis on each player, but that’s it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  Sebastian skirted the desk and pulled her out of her chair. “I wanted to know if the attraction between us affected you enough that you said something in my favor.” He bracketed her waist in his hands, marveling that his fingers nearly touched.

  “No, Sebastian, I didn’t say anything special about you. That wouldn’t have been right.”

  “But you can’t tell me you don’t feel this.”

  Her gaze shifted away from his for a moment before returning. “I never said that.”

  A flash of desire stole through him and he closed his eyes, praying for control. For him, this was more than just sexual attraction; he wanted to learn more about her. He loved being near her.

  Sebastian opened his eyes and trapped Sarah between the wall and himself. She was so close he could see every detail, every little nuance in her expression. Want for her smoldered and flamed as his breath caught in his throat. Despite the ache pulsing in his chest, he tried to keep calm as he drank her in—everything from the delicate curve of her jaw to her eyes, those incredible eyes that were true windows to her soul.

  Sarah didn’t take her gaze off him either, as if trying to preserve his features in her mind. Then she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, his nostrils flared at the heat blazing in her gaze.

  It was clear she was fighting the urge to take this thing further, just like he was. She shared his feelings, and he had to resist jumping up and down and screaming it to the world. That would definitely not win points with her.

  Unable to stop himself, he leaned still closer, sweeping his hands completely around her to hold her body flush to his. She melted in his arms as waves of attraction shook him. Her soft curves were heaven beneath his hands and his control slipped.

  Surely his hardness pressing into her belly was obvious, but he didn’t care. He wanted her. When she peered up at him again, he groaned, the battle lost, and kissed her.

  Sebastian felt like he’d bottled lightning as he took ownership of her mouth, pushing his tongue into her mouth, sweeping in frantic strokes. Then, wanting to explore as much of her as he could all at once, his hands were roving over her body, never stopping in one place. His erection twitched as he continued to kiss her.

  He groaned again. He needed more.

  He pulled back long enough to utter, “J’ai besoin de tes baisers. I need your kisses.”

  He nibbled on her bottom lip. “J’ai besoin de tu. I need you.”

  As desire threatened to overtake him, he tilted her head to continue his assault. She grasped his shoulders, her nails biting into his flesh, and moaned into his mouth. He let out a growl.

  After too short a time, she pulled away, her eyes wide with regret.

  A humorless smile tugged at his lips as he stepped back. “I know I wasn’t supposed to do that,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, “but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t. Tu me fais le sentir fou.” He shuddered. “Merde. You make me feel crazy.”

  He turned away, picked up her stapler, set it back down, and then raked his hands through his hair so he wouldn’t touch her again. Sebastian never wanted her to feel threatened by him. He’d rather cut off his shooting arm.

  “Je pense à toi tout le temps. God, I think about you all the time,” he said then bolted out the door. As he rushed down the hall, he considered what he’d done. He hadn’t wanted that to happen.

  Dammit, that isn’t true.

  Sebastian couldn’t deny he’d wanted to finally taste her, but not like that, so rushed and in the middle of her office. Even so, he couldn’t regret it. He had gotten a taste of paradise and now craved more. If luck was on his side, he’d have the entire season to get his fill of Sarah.

  Chapter Five

  Sarah threw herself into the world of an NHL season: sleeping at odd times, eating a whole lot of chicken and pasta with the team before every game, and always being on the go. Despite not taking to the new sleep schedule very well, she was having the time of her life.

  After one of the first road trips, her phone rang, waking her from a deep sleep. Caller ID showed “Marcy” a so she picked up, stifling a yawn. “Hello?”

  “Sarah?”

  “Yeah.” She squinted to see the time. Eight-thirty at night. I don’t even remember lying down on the couch.

  As Sarah struggled to wakefulness, Marcy caught her up on the gossip around Cornell. Sarah in turn told her the latest about the guys and her job.

  Knowing she needed some perspective on this Sebastian thing, she confessed all that had happened recently, including that crazy make-out session in her office, the internal video of which played in her head on “Repeat.”

  “So am I sick to want him? I am, aren’t I?”

  “No, you’re not sick,” Marcy said. “Why would you think so? It’s a natural reaction. You’re only human.”

  “Because I work for the team and I’m ten years older than him. It feels wrong on so many levels.” But still turns me on.

  Crap.

  “Sarah, I’ve known you for a long time. You aren’t accepting in your heart what you think in your head is right, that there can be nothing between you and Sebastian. You can’t stop wanting him just because you think you should. Right?”

  “Yeah, probably.” She wasn’t sure she could make her heart accept what her head insisted was right. “I don’t even know which way is up. I’m interested in Sebastian, like really, really interested. And you know it’s been a long time since I’ve been interested in any man.”

  “Let me ask you this. Be honest. What’s truly holding you back? Do you think if you dated him, people would think it was unethical because of your role within the team, or is it something else?”

  “What are you getting at?” Sarah frowned. She was biting her nail again. She’d never break the stupid habit if she kept letting everything get to her.

  “Well, if you decide this man is what you want, you always have the option to quit.”

  Quit? Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. “I couldn’t do that. I told you, I love my job, and it’s not like people are beating down my door to offer me other great positions. Not that I have any interest in another position anyway. This job is perfect for me.” She sighed. “I feel like such a letch, like I
’m hiding some dirty little secret.”

  “Have you thought about dating someone else? Maybe that would help. You know, like baby steps.”

  “Baby steps? That would hardly be a baby step.” The idea of dating someone else just to forget Sebastian seemed futile—he was everywhere she went. And, since the attack, she hadn’t been crazy about dating in general.

  “When would I find time to meet someone? I don’t even have any friends here except people I’ve met through the team. I can’t exactly walk into a bar and pick up some random guy, can I?”

  “Why not?” Marcy asked. “Women do it all the time.”

  “Not this woman.” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “I could never do that, especially after what happened.” She closed her eyes, willing herself not to get upset like she had at boot camp. A heavy sigh escaped her.

  “I’m sorry, hon. I spoke without thinking. Of course you shouldn’t do that. Speaking of that, though, have you found a therapist in Buffalo? Didn’t the one in Ithaca give you some recommendations?”

  “I haven’t had time.” She grimaced, knowing she should’ve made it a priority.

  “You make time for something like that, Sarah. This is your mental health you’re dealing with. You can’t screw around.” Marcy paused then cleared her throat. “On that note, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meeting with that new professor I’m working with this fall. He wants to do a research project on probabilistic combinatorics and then submit it for the Fields Medal. Yeah, good luck with that. Anyway, think about trying to get out more. It would be good for you to stop obsessing about Sebastian.”

  Doubtful. I’m freaking pathetic. It seems like all I do is obsess about Sebastian.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Sarah trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. She didn’t even bother to change into pajamas before collapsing on the bed and crawling under the covers. She hadn’t slept on the team plane since the guys had played a prank on her, the classic shaving cream in the hand. After waking up with it all over her face and enduring endless teasing, combined with the fear of what would happen if she ever had one of her nightmares about the attack, she kept one eye open at all times now. As a result, she was exhausted to her very marrow.

  The team was scheduled to play a lot of games in October, which meant long hours and a lot of running from place to place. Maybe she’d be so busy she’d be too exhausted to obsess.

  Yeah, right.

  The next day, Sarah and Doug were called into the conference room. Sarah was still exhausted and fighting to look alert. If she was lucky, this mysterious meeting would be short and she could go get a cup of coffee or three.

  The Storm had been searching for an additional assistant coach, and standing with Jon at the front of the room was a bear of a man she assumed might be him. Though he didn’t stand more than five foot ten, she’d bet he weighed in at well over three hundred pounds. His beefy arms were covered in tattoos. Had Jon gone down to the proverbial docks to find him? He didn’t look like any hockey coach she’d ever seen.

  Some of the other staff obviously recognized him as a murmur went through the group.

  Jon stepped forward. “Everyone, this is Lou Ferrar. Lou, our off-ice staff.” He indicated different people, introducing them to Lou, who remained silent, giving a terse nod every now and then.

  When Jon got to Sarah and Doug, he said, “These are our competitive and video analysis consultants, Sarah Jenkins and Doug Howard.”

  Lou snorted.

  Jon glanced at him. “Problem?”

  “You know I don’t believe in that shit.” Shifting his gaze to Sarah, Lou smiled, his thin lips pulling over shark’s teeth. “Pardon me, ma’am. That crap.”

  Sarah remained silent, waiting to see what Jon would say before she reacted. She’d learned that was the best way to stay on his good side.

  “Yeah, I know, but the league and ownership does.”

  That statement was met with another snort. “And where did the little lady learn to play hockey, ballet school?”

  Sarah had met men like Lou. No matter what she said, she wouldn’t change his attitude. With a saccharine sweet smile, Sarah said, “Nope, but I’ll tell Miss Ellie you’re sorry for missing class the next time I see her.”

  Jon barked out a short laugh, and then the rest of the group let out a nervous chuckle. Lou’s face burned red.

  Jon put up a hand, palm out. “Let’s not get into a pissing contest.” He smirked at Sarah, who raised an eyebrow.

  Apparently Jon wasn’t surprised she’d reacted to the taunt, but what had he expected her to do, sit there and let this guy make her out to be a laughingstock?

  “Try to be nice, all right? Now let’s get to work.”

  Since the team was home again, Sarah’s skating lessons also resumed. Even Sebastian had gotten into the act, showing her little tips and tricks each day after practice. Thankfully, he never hung around too long, both for her sanity and for how it might be perceived by his teammates. At least he wasn’t the only one who occasionally stuck around to coach her. Even so, she both anticipated and dreaded those lessons.

  Sebastian hadn’t explained himself since storming her office and kissing her, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up, so what was his motive for helping her? As if seeing him every day wasn’t hard enough to deal with, him being so sweet to her was almost worse. She might’ve been able to control a purely physical hunger, but she genuinely liked Sebastian.

  After the team’s practice, she put her skates on and met Rick in the players’ bench area. He was often the guy who worked with her since he got scratched from a lot of games. In the current NHL, there wasn’t too huge a call for an enforcer. “I have a special treat for you today,” Rick said with a grin.

  “I don’t trust that grin for a minute.” Rick was one of the biggest pranksters on the team and every time he smiled like that, something was about to happen.

  “Aw, come on now. I’m hurt.” But the shit-eating grin didn’t fade even an iota.

  He told her to stretch out then briefly disappeared into the trainers’ area. When he returned, he carried the players’ least-favorite device of torture, a small red parachute that attached to the back and billowed out behind to create drag.

  “No way am I strapping that thing on.” She’d seen players lugging it around in practice, and it looked like they were dying. Considering they were professional hockey players, there was no freaking way in hell she was going to agree to use it.

  Rick grinned. “This isn’t even the one we use. I found this in the storage room. Pretty sure it’s for the Tim Bits players, you know, those little five-year-olds who play between periods?”

  The tips of her ears heated, but she tried her best to hold onto her temper. Rick was just egging her on to get a reaction. She was known to have a short fuse when people teased her.

  “Are you going to make me go get guys to restrain you, or are you going to go quietly?” Rick shook the parachute.

  Sarah sniffed, but turned her back. It was pointless to argue with him. He was nothing if not stubborn. His attitude of never giving up was one of the only reasons he was still in the NHL. He certainly wasn’t the most skilled guy on the team, but he knew how to make a difference and he exploited it.

  However, she wasn’t going to let him get the better of her. “You’re going to make me? Isn’t there some law about cruel and unusual punishment? Even you Canadians should know about that one.”

  Attaching the contraption to her back and ignoring her taunt, he said, “You need a lot of leg strength to skate.”

  Several days later as she skated around the rink with the infernal thing billowing and snapping behind her, Sarah daydreamed of stuffing Rick’s stick down his throat.

  “Get going, Sarah, move those feet!” he shouted. She glared at him and with his stick, he motioned down the rink. “Go.”

  “Gonna make my fantasy a reality if you don’t stop being so bossy,” sh
e muttered.

  Sarah began another lap. She was getting more comfortable with crossovers—putting one foot in front of the other to go around a corner more quickly and efficiently—but still coasted around the corners from time to time.

  Every time she chickened out, Rick would stop her. “You need to do this to learn. You can’t skate without doing crossovers. Come on, try again.”

  Sarah hated it when Rick was both nice and right. “Yeah, yeah.”

  After a few more laps, she doubled over, her lungs pulling in the ice-cold rink air as she gasped for breath. Skating with that damn parachute would end her. She was sure of it.

  “Come on, shorty.” Rick stuck his tongue out.

  If Sarah hadn’t been so annoyed and exhausted, she would’ve laughed at the ridiculous image of the team’s bruising enforcer with such an undignified expression.

  Pretending to dodge another of her glares, he said, “I’ve got an idea. Let’s give you a reason to skate. A little competition is never a bad thing, right?” Sarah grunted, but he continued, undeterred. “How about a race? If I win, you do every crossover tomorrow.”

  Sarah narrowed her eyes. He’d already skated for a couple of hours at practice and done over an hour in the weight room. Huh. I might just be able to take him.

  “What if I win?” she asked, rising to her full height, which was still a good foot shorter than his. She pulled the pack for the parachute off her shoulders.

  “I-if y-you w-win?” Rick sputtered.

  “Yeah, if I win. I’m pretty competitive, you know.” She punched him in the gut and it was like coming in contact with a brick wall. He didn’t even react, and she wanted to wipe that arrogant grin off his face in the worst way.

  “I’ll bet you are. I saw how rabid you were at boot camp. Okay, if you win… I’ll do anything you want.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Anything?”

  “Anything.” He crossed his arms, apparently confident there was no way he’d lose.

  “You’re on,” she said, already thinking of various ways to pay him back for his cruelty. Forcing him to dress in drag, or get on his hands and knees and bark like a dog, or maybe even making him be her errand boy at work for a day. She was sure she could come up with something humiliating to enact her sweet revenge.