by Melanie Ting
I hadn’t said a word, but Amanda read my mind. “I can see you don’t agree. I’m interested to hear your point of view, Leo.”
She sounded genuine, so I gave her the truth. “Hockey is about winning. The life span of coach depends on how much he wins. And sometimes even winning games isn’t enough. Winning breeds expectations, and that means championships.”
“But that’s ridiculous. There’s only one Calder Cup winner each year.”
I smiled. “One of the best things about hockey is how much passion there is. Fans, players, owners, managers, everyone cares. Passion can overcome reason. And it’s easier to fire a coach than an entire team.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but believe me when I say it’s different here. We value loyalty here, and the Millionaires do too. After all, they hired Chris after his playing career was over.”
Chris Luczak was a hockey superstar and beloved in this market. It was a no-brainer to hire him. But I wasn’t going to continue to argue with the woman who signed the cheques.
“Amanda, I think you’ll approve of the way I coach the team. I’m a huge believer in the mental side of the game and helping guys maximize their performance.” I pointed to my forehead. “The game is won or lost between the ears.”
“Of course. In any case, Chris is your boss. I’m not trying to butt in. I only wanted to make you feel welcome here.”
But I got the feeling that the jury was still out on me as far as Amanda was concerned. After she left, I finished up a few things and then headed home. I craved a little relaxation. My new building had a gym, so I hit that for a quick workout. I’d been planning to check out nearby running trails on a day off, but that day off hadn’t yet happened. Besides, it was raining. It had rained every single day since I arrived. Fucking Vancouver weather.
I sprinted up the stairs after my workout. No point taking an elevator when you wanted exercise anyway. I went straight to the refrigerator and had a big glass of filtered water. My new fridge had only a few necessities on the shelves. Besides, I had zero energy to cook. I pulled out a frozen dinner. Like any self-respecting Montréaler, I liked to eat well, but my cooking skills were pretty basic. Eating out didn’t really appeal either. Every other restaurant in this neighbourhood served sushi. That was okay for one night, but not a regular diet. I liked my red meat.
I walked into my bedroom and stripped down, throwing everything into a hamper. A standing laundry hamper was another thing I’d never had before and I liked its utility. I turned the shower on full blast. Even the water in Vancouver was different. It tasted good and felt softer on my skin. Weird, the differences you noticed. The hot water pulsed down on my body, and I scrubbed up with the orange-scented body wash from the shower caddy. I shampooed my hair, which reminded me I needed to find a place to get my hair cut. I needed a waterproof notepad to write down all the things I remembered while showering. Something about the water pouring down made my mind more creative and connected.
I got out of the shower and dried off. I wrapped a towel around my waist. I needed to get a robe. My old place had an ensuite, but this place had only the one bathroom. Once Charlotte got here, I couldn’t be walking around naked.
Clunk.
What was that? It seemed to come from the kitchen. Then there was another sound. Was somebody in here? Maybe a previous tenant still had keys or something. I strode out into the kitchen. There was a woman in there. She was bent over, reaching into a cardboard box. Her ass in jeans looked nice, real nice. But still, that nice ass didn’t belong here.
“Who the hell are you?” I barked.
The woman shrieked and kitchen utensils went flying into the air. I instinctively caught a spatula before it landed on me. She spun around, and I could see her face.
Merde. She was cute—very cute. Her clothes looked expensive and her body was slim and fit. Her dark hair was layered around a pretty face with dark eyes that crinkled at the corners. And her mouth was dark and sharply-outlined—lipstick was a turn-on for me. I had a flash fantasy about easing my cock between those lips, feeling myself bathed in the warm wetness of that mouth, and then pulling out to see little kiss marks on my shaft. It was that contrast I enjoyed—a sophisticated woman and raw sex acts. She was exactly my type. Right now I was working ridiculous hours, but I could always make time for some relaxation. Sex was the perfect way to unwind after a hard day’s work.
She pulled out a pair of earbuds, and her eyes widened with concern. “I’m so sorry. I thought Wayne said you’d be out this evening, so I came in to—oh, we haven’t even met.” She moved closer, holding out her hand. “You must be Leo. I’m Jacqueline Wagner. You know, we talked on the phone and....”
I automatically reached out and her handshake was warm and firm. The heat of her touch was nice, I ran my thumb over her soft skin. She pulled away as if I electrocuted her. Then she looked at me. Really looked, her gaze moving down from my face to my chest to the towel and then her eyes widened. Thinking about getting a blowjob from her had made me harden a little. That pretty lipsticked mouth fell opened, and the tip of her tongue darted out.
I laughed. “What’s the verdict?”
Her hand flew up to her face. “Oh. I’m so sorry. Maybe it’s shock of—oh gosh. I was so surprised that you were—and now you’re not wearing any—oh God.”
Her stammering was accompanied by a very pretty blush that moved from her face down her neck to the V of her dark shirt. My eyes focused on her cleavage. Her breasts looked like perfect soft handfuls, and my cock got even harder. I had this urge to yank off my towel and then all her clothes. Once she was naked, I’d use this plastic spatula on that nice ass, and when she was softened up, take her right on the cool granite countertop. Slide my cock into the soft flesh of this sexy stranger until she made the animal noises that would turn me on even more. And all my instincts told me that she would like that very much—there was a current of connection between us.
But instead she took a step back and crashed into the cardboard box. I reached out and held her arm to steady her. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and almost frightened. There was a vulnerability about her, in spite of her expensive clothing and chic jewellery. That made me hesitate. It was one thing to ask for sex with a woman you met in a bar, but not with a woman who was only here to do her job. It wasn’t how things were done in polite society. I let my palm linger on her upper arm, feeling the tensed muscle under the softness and then released her.
Jacqueline was intriguing. She looked cool and classy, but there was a recklessness about her. She’d never do anything without throwing herself fully into it. I blew out a breath and put the spatula on the countertop.
“Okay, I’m going to get dressed now. Please feel free to do whatever you wanted to do here.”
As I turned to leave, I looked back over my shoulder. Jacqueline’s widened eyes and wavering stance made her look like prey ready to take flight. She really had three choices: flee the apartment, stay here and work, or follow me into the bedroom. And her next step would determine my next step.
7
Melts
Jackie
Oh my God. Okay, heart, anytime you want to go back to beating normally, that would be fine. What the hell was wrong with me? I was the person who stayed calm in a crisis. When Hannah was a toddler, she fell down and cut open her forehead, and the amount of blood was ridiculous. Brent was the one hyperventilating while I took charge and got us to Emergency. Same thing when Tristan broke his arm falling out of a tree.
So how did a random stranger turn me into a shaking leaf? My hands were actually trembling. I took several deep breaths and began putting away the kitchen supplies I’d brought. How on earth did I get the dates of his road trip mixed up? The kids would laugh and say that was a total Mom-thing to do. Um, except I wouldn’t be telling them this story because the punchline was a half-naked man.
That was the real reason I was nervous: sex. Since Brent left, there wasn’t one man I’d been interested i
n. The odds were against me. I was a mom who hung out with other parents, so I didn’t meet a ton of single guys. And the few single guys I had met had done nothing for me. Coach Jerk-head was the first man I’d met who was attractive, presumably single, and he seemed to be interested in me.
And vice versa. Oh, that body. He was more slim than hulking, but his chest had these well-defined muscles and he had actual ab muscles. Not like a teenager’s starvation six-pack, but his waist went in where Brent’s went out. And his arms looked strong and sinewy. He even had a few drops of water glistening on his skin like he was straight out of an Old Spice commercial.
Leo wasn’t exactly handsome, but he was very attractive. His face was angular with hollowed cheeks and a squared off jaw. His eyes were narrow and his gaze piercing. Everything was brown, his eyes, his cropped hair, his lightly tanned skin. His expression had been stern and unsmiling—until the moment he caught me checking out his package.
Gah, I had openly eyed a strange man’s penis! And then tried to imagine what it looked like and how hard and silky smooth it might feel. From his expression he knew exactly what I was thinking about. My skin flushed again.
Time to focus on organizing kitchens and not penises. I picked up the spatula that he had caught so gracefully and remembered how he had smacked it against his palm a few times as he was talking to me. Why had that made me feel all liquid inside? Lust was turning me into a complete idiot. How could a plastic spatula be sexy?
There was a frozen dinner defrosting on the counter. Really? I wouldn’t feed that to Minx. Spontaneously, I dumped it in the garbage and started rooting through the cupboards. Not much, but enough here for a quick meal.
“Ahhh, you’re still here.”
I jumped again, although not as spectacularly as the first time since I wasn’t holding kitchen utensils.
“Is that all you do? Sneak up on unsuspecting women and scare them to death?”
Regretfully, he was wearing a pale blue t-shirt and jeans now, although he filled them out very well. He smiled at me—a half-smile that drew attention to a full bottom lip that I wanted to lick. Yet his smile looked a little evil, like he was toying with me. However that didn’t make him any less attractive. I shivered.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m making you dinner.” Was this a ridiculous move straight out of Extremely Desperate Housewives? It was something I’d do for a friend in the same circumstances. But he wasn’t really a friend. All I knew was that I didn’t want to leave. He was watching me from behind. Hopefully, I didn’t have paint or chocolate stains on the back of my jeans.
“Why?”
“Because I saw what you were planning to eat, and that’s not food.”
Leo chuckled, but didn’t say anything else. Apparently having strange women offer to cook for him was just another day in the life of Mr. Hot Coach.
“Besides, aren’t you kind of an athlete? You should be eating healthier.”
He chuckled. “Yes, that’s me. Kind of an athlete. But I haven’t really had time to go shopping.”
“I know. There’s not a lot for me to work with here.”
“By all means, give me a list so I can be better prepared the next time you break into my kitchen.”
The blood rushed to my face. “I didn’t break in. I have a key. And I thought you were out.”
I couldn’t see Leo’s expression because I was facing the counter, but I heard his laugh. I finished up the tuna melt and stuck it under the broiler.
“Would you like a drink, Jacqueline?” He had a slight French-Canadian accent, and he pronounced my name in that French two-syllable way: Jack-len. Was there anything he did that wasn’t hot?
“Sure.” Then it struck me. Maybe he already had a date. It was Friday night after all. “Did you have plans tonight?”
“No. I just arrived here, remember? I hardly know anyone yet—except you.”
I couldn’t even define the reaction I was having to Leo. It was a cross between a teenaged crush and Mrs. Robinson syndrome. I was pretty sure I was older than him. He was a coach, so he had to be close to my age. But his body didn’t look like forty years of gravity had worked on it. Maybe being on the ice so much had preserved him better.
“I have wine,” he offered.
“Beer’s fine,” I said. I declined a glass as well.
Leo leaned against the kitchen counter and held his bottle out. “Cheers.”
I clinked my bottle against his. Our fingers touched briefly and the warmth of his hand numbed my brain. This particular social situation—being alone with a handsome stranger whose firm penis I had seen outlined in terry cloth—was completely out of my experience.
“So, do you like your new place?” I finally asked.
He nodded slowly, that slight smile still on his face. “You seem to have thought of my every comfort.”
Okay, now that had to be suggestive. Especially the way that he was eye-fucking me as he said it. Yes, I thought of your every comfort and that includes you and me having some hot animal sex later tonight. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe he wasn’t even interested. What were the first steps of dating again? Oh right, first make sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend.
“Again, I am so, so sorry about messing up on your road trip dates.”
“And here I thought it was deliberate and you wanted to meet me.”
Meat you maybe. Ha ha. My mind really needed to stop changing each thing he said into an innuendo. I had another swallow of my beer. “When is it you leave?”
“We have a game Sunday night, then we leave on Tuesday morning.”
“Okay, I’ll come in and finish your daughter’s room then. When is she getting here?”
“Not for a while. She’s still got school. So you have lots of time.”
“I’m surprised that she—or anybody—didn’t want to have input into the decorating. I would have.”
Leo smiled. “She’s only seven. But if that’s your way of asking if I have a wife or girlfriend, I don’t. I’m divorced.”
I could feel my skin heating up again. “I wasn’t—” Then I shook my head. That was a total lie. “Okay, I was wondering. I’m only recently divorced myself, and I’m totally out of it when it comes to this kind of conversation.”
“You don’t have to tell me you’re single. I can see that,” he said. He put his beer on the counter and took my hands in his. “Voilá, no rings. Even though you have jewellery on and you’re someone who pays attention to your appearance.”
The way he held my hands—warmly, caressingly, gently—sent a current of electricity right through my body. How long had it been since anyone had touched me like this—in a way that signalled flirting and desire? It was years and years ago. Dinosaurs were still roaming the earth the last time this had happened to me.
I swallowed hard. “You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you?”
He dropped my hands and smiled again. I tried to figure out why his smile looked more sinister than friendly. Maybe it was the guarded look in his eyes. He was someone in full control—of his emotions, his reactions, his life. I envied him that.
“No, Jacqueline. For example, I don’t know what you’re going to say when I ask you out.”
“Oh, I think you do.” There was no point acting coy. I might not know much about dating, but I did know that what was going on between us was a huge underwear-melting tsunami of physical attraction. I had no clue what his life was like, but this certainly wasn’t something that happened to me every day.
“Would you like to go out with me?”
“Yes.” Good thing he didn’t ask me if I wanted to stay in with him, because the answer would have been the same.
He chuckled again. “I didn’t even say when.”
Well, I wasn’t going to admit that my social calendar was completely blank. “Am I supposed to play hard to get? I’m out of practice at this stuff.”
“You don’t have to play games. I prefer honesty
.” He drank some more beer.
The kitchen timer dinged. I had to move closer to him to get to the oven. I brushed against his chest and felt his solid strength under the thin t-shirt. And he smelled good too. Citrusy-fresh. Wait, I bought that body wash. I made him smell as yummy as a ripe mandarin orange that I wanted to take a bite out of.
I hastily arranged his meal on a plate: tuna melt, carrot and apple salad. Then I set it on the little kitchen table. I sat across from him with my beer.
“You’ve eaten already?” he asked, and I nodded. “It’s delicious.”
“It’s one of my son’s favourites.” Oops. Was I not supposed to mention children right away? Why not? I was a mom, and my kids were the most important things in my life. If that was a deal-breaker, so be it. Anyway, Leo had a daughter too.
“How old is he?” Leo asked.
“Ten. And I have a twelve-year-old daughter too.”
We chatted casually about kids, which also helped to lower my internal thermostat and prevent me from jumping Leo. Although, it didn’t prevent me from checking out his arm muscles as he ate.
“Much, much better than my original dinner, Jacqueline.”
“Thank you. So, you’re from Quebec?”
“Oui. Montréal.”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to go there. It’s supposed to be just like Europe.”
His eyes widened. “I’m shocked. You’ve never been to Montréal? It is by far the loveliest city in Canada.”
“Come on. Nicer than Vancouver? I don’t think so.”
He laughed. “How can you compare if you’ve never been there?”
“That’s true, but I’ve seen photos.”
“Vancouver has a beautiful natural setting. It is a spectacular city. But Montréal has a liveliness and energy that you cannot find anywhere else. And the people are very special as well.”
“Like you?” I asked.
He grinned. “Merci. That was great. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to get to work now.”
