by Lynda Aicher
Back in Play
By Lynda Aicher
Book two of Power Play
For Minnesota Glaciers captain Scott Walters, skating on a bum knee—and self-medicating to keep skating on it—is all part of the game. That the painkillers he’s eating prevent him from having meaningful relationships is just one more sacrifice in a lifetime of them. He’s worked too hard to let his image be ruined by injury or dependency, so he hides the pain and fakes the rest—a girlfriend would only complicate matters.
High school teacher Rachel Fielding never needed a man in her life, but she also never intended to grow old alone. When she meets Scott while visiting her brother, she’s intrigued to find herself wanting him in her bed. For hours at a time, as often as possible. Scott is a giver, and just the memory of his attentions is enough to drive her crazy. Anything long-term is out of the question, though—the pills she finds in Scott’s house indicate he’s struggling with a lot more than growing older in a young man’s game.
When what starts out as a what-the-hell weeklong fling turns into Scott and Rachel exploring each other outside the bedroom, Rachel hesitates. But Scott asks for her support to break his addiction, and hearing him admit his secrets has her ignoring her own rules—until he breaks her heart. With the Glaciers refusing to renew his contract and his future with Rachel uncertain, Scott has some big decisions to make and a lot to prove—especially to himself.
99,000 words
Dear Reader,
I’d rather be reading. How many times do you say that during your day? I know I say it probably a dozen times through my day. I love to read, and I’d pretty much always rather be reading, so I’m always stockpiling books to ensure I never run out for the times when I can read. I’m thrilled Carina Press is able to give you month after month of books to add to your TBR pile, and May is no exception!
In Lynda Aicher’s erotic contemporary romance Back in Play, fun, flirty and sexy-as-hell Rachel Fielding is the perfect distraction Scott Walters needs when the Glaciers refused to renew his contract. But he hadn’t counted on falling for her or purging his deepest secrets to her, either. Can their fledgling relationship survive the trials he has ahead?
Edie Harris’s first romantic suspense, Blamed, was a reader favorite and she’s back with book two, Ripped: A Blood Money Novel, in which a sexy, hot-blooded spy coerces an ice-cold attorney to partner with him to wreak vengeance on the villain who threatens them both.
Joely Sue Burkhart is burning up the pages and testing our boundaries with her latest erotic romance, One Cut Deeper. Her needs are dark. His are dangerous. For Charlie and Ranay, pain is their shared pleasure...until Charlie disappears, and the hunger Ranay loved in him may be even darker than she suspected.
Alyssa Cole rocked our world with her first postapocalyptic romance, Radio Silence, and she’s back with sexy male/male romance Signal Boost, set in the same technologically devastated world. Months have passed since electricity, and society, stopped working; John is wondering if a life without internet is worth living when he stumbles across a hot astrophysicist who might change his life—and the world.
Also in the male/male category and taking us to whole new worlds is Lonely Shore, book two in the stunning science-fiction romance series from Jenn Burke and Kelly Jensen. Zander and Felix are trying to make their relationship work, but two things stand in the way: a criminal cartel out for blood and the rapid deterioration of Zander’s mental health. It’s a game of duck and cover as they search for answers, and when they find one, the cost might be too high.
2014 RITA® Award-nominated author Kat Latham’s Taming the Legend rounds out our romance offerings in May. In this passionate story of lovers reunited, legendary rugby player Ash Trenton fights to help Camila Morales—his first and only love—save her indebted sports camp...while also fighting to keep from losing his heart to her all over again.
For mystery fans who like their mystery with a side of fun, you have to check out Ricardo Sanchez. You first met Floyd, the PI living his life as Elvis would have wanted, in Elvis Sightings. Now he’s back in Bigfoot Blues, and his newest case leads him to man-eating mountain lions, chupacabras and plain-old murderers.
Coming in June 2015: Lisa Marie Rice delivers another awesome alpha hero, Julie Moffett’s Lexi Carmichael returns with further adventures and Julie Rowe launches a new romantic suspense military series.
Here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.
Happy reading!
Angela James
Editorial Director, Carina Press
Dedication
To the always wonderful Jenna Bayley-Burke, for your guidance, support, knowledge and most of all, friendship. This journey wouldn’t be nearly as fun without you on board and I thank my Universe every day for putting you in my life.
Acknowledgments
Plot bunnies can come from anywhere, and the idea for this story came from a wonderful reader, Davia Rouda, who emailed me after reading Bonds of Denial and told me Rachel needed a story. I instantly knew who her perfect match would be, and the story unfolded in a rush of meshing thoughts and scrambling ideas. So thank you, Davia, for the wonderful note that ignited the spark that resulted in this story.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
Music rolled through the room on a beat that had a majority of the drunk hockey players swarming the small dance floor, hips gyrating, arms swinging, hapless of who they were hitting. An overabundance of love flowed through the group. Hugs and sloppy cheek kisses were given freely with more than a few “I love you, man” included.
Scott Walters propped his feet on an empty chair and took a sip of his pop, smirk hidden behind the glass. Most of the inebriated fools had discarded their suit jackets and ties, and a few even had some legitimate moves beside the basic bump and sway. It wasn’t often the team had a chance to let loose like this, not with the grind of an eighty-plus game season.
But the season was over, the national championship out of their reach for another year. The four-to-two series loss just over a week ago had been a devastating disappointment. One that still sucked hard for all of them. A lot of the guys would be heading out soon for wherever they called home. Most would’ve already been gone if it wasn’t for this wedding. This was a last hurrah, a fuck-it-sucks-we-lost and congratulations all in one.
He’d miss this. These guys.
Shit. He looked away. Tightness clamped down on his throat in another surprise attack. It’d happened way too often that day. A day he was supposed to be celebrating. But his duties as best man were officially over and his acting skills were flagging along with his will.
Holden Hauke, right winger and rising team star, had done the impossible and married
the stunning PR rep Vanessa Delcour earlier that afternoon. By some feat of patience and determination, the man had managed to break through her renowned Ice Queen shell and in doing so had found a woman who loved him completely like he did her.
Scott caught a glimpse of the happy couple moving together in the middle of the dance floor and forced a swallow through the constriction that remained. With her glossy black hair falling in straight locks against her fitted white dress, and Holden in his black tux, the two were a classic vision of wedding perfection—if that actually existed.
He shrugged off his cynicism, lifted his glass in a lonely toast to the couple and finished off his Coke. The ice cubes clinked in the glass when he shook it in search of the last bit of liquid. Going to the bar for a refill would provide too much of a temptation to get something stronger.
“Hey, Wally,” Henrik Grenick boomed a second before his hand slammed down on Scott’s shoulder. “Why aren’t you out there?” He motioned toward the dance floor, his drink spilling over the edge of the glass.
Scott jerked away just in time to save his tux pants from a dousing of what he guessed was rum and Coke, based on the scent coming from the still-swinging glass. He glanced up at the man looming over him, another pang kicking him in the gut. The lumbering defenseman was gruff, a bit obtuse on some things and one of the most loyal friends he had.
“Probably the same reason you’re not,” Scott said, looking back to the group that was now swaying in disjointed unison, arm in arm in a large circle hug around the wedding couple. Somewhere over the years of almost nightly beatings, daily workouts, muscle strains, pulls, bruises and concussions, hockey had sucked that life out of him. Or maybe it was just the natural progression of age. He blamed both for his lack of energy and inability to let loose anymore.
Mixed in with the Glaciers’ players were friends and family of the wedding couple, ones he mostly knew at least by face if not by name. Family—that was what his teammates were to him. He spent more time with them than his own blood relations. Than anyone else. It’d been that way since he’d gone pro at nineteen and moved to Florida to play for his first professional team.
Damn. He squeezed his eyes closed until the stinging behind his eyelids subsided. What was wrong with him tonight?
Grenick swung a chair around and plopped down heavily into it, his grunt mixed with a sigh that Scott understood. “Those kids have more energy than me,” Grenick said, confirming Scott’s assumption.
“Give them time.” At thirty-four, Scott was practically a dinosaur in the sport. “That was us once.” He pointed at the group that was now doing jumping chest bumps in a disguised challenge over standing vertical height leaps.
“Shit. Now you’re making me feel old.”
“Naw, it’s hockey that did that.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Grenick lifted his glass and Scott clinked his to it. Grenick arched a brow at the empty state of Scott’s glass then threw back a long drink from his.
That drink looked good. Too good. Scott turned away before his mouth started to water, absently rubbing the inside of his knee around the edge of the brace that encased it. The pain that constantly radiated from it seemed to intensify with the discussion of the game. He should be used to it after so many years. Yeah, right. That was kind of like saying someone should be used to losing his arm after a couple of years.
A low curse came from Grenick, and Scott jerked his head up, frowning. “What?”
The scowl wiped from the other man’s forehead a second before he slammed the last of his drink. A stiff smile pulled on his lips. “I’ve been found.”
Scott spotted a leggy brunette heading their way, her determined stride unhindered by the platform heels and thigh-hugging miniskirt. Her chin was lifted in that perpetual tilt that managed to make him feel like he was being looked down upon, even if he was physically taller.
“What’d you do?” Scott asked.
Grenick shrugged. “Who knows?” He stood, adjusted his jacket and cracked his neck. “Best to head it off though.” He strode away to sweep his current girlfriend into a quick spin and dip that only deepened her scowl when she straightened.
She jabbed a finger at Henrik’s chest then whipped around and stalked toward the exit, Henrik’s hand firmly in hers as she dragged him away. Henrik trudged along without complaint. He managed a shout and wave at Hauke before he left, but there was no pause in his stride.
And that was why Scott avoided girlfriends. They always came with expectations and no instructions.
Fuck. He shook off the bad memories before they took hold. Weddings had a way of dragging up the past, along with the “what ifs” and “thank fucks” that’d taken years to appreciate.
He slipped the mint case out of his pocket, plucked up two pain pills and swallowed them dry. They should kick in soon, which may give him the relief and boost he needed to drag his ass onto the dance floor. If only they could provide the motivation too.
A raucous roar went up as Vanessa was lifted onto the shoulders of two of the younger guys. Her hands were fisted in the hair of both men and a devious smile lit her face as she stared at Hauke, who stood in front of them. Beneath her, the hard grit of the men’s teeth said exactly how gentle she was being. Or not.
Scott’s laugh burst from him in a sharp jolt that managed to alleviate some of his sullenness. Vanessa and Holden were a match that worked in ways Scott understood but didn’t. The woman made his balls shrink in fear at her sharp tongue and even sharper claws, but Hauke actually reveled in that very thing.
Hauke reached for her, and she leaned forward to fall into her husband’s arms, her smile warming to the one she reserved for him alone. In that moment Scott could clearly see the ballbuster in her, along with the trust and bond that held the two together.
Envy snuck in so quickly he didn’t have time to prepare for the hit. The hard jab nailed him in the chest somewhere near his heart and sucked the air from his lungs. Son of a bitch. Where’d that come from? He rubbed his ribs, the ache easing with each deep breath.
The last thing he needed was more pain. He had no idea why Hauke would seek it out with Vanessa via the BDSM community when he got a dose of it every time he stepped onto the ice.
To each their own though. There was too much judgment in the world over things that were nobody’s business except the participants.
He munched on an ice cube and let his gaze wander over the rest of the guests. A large collection of attendees were from the Glaciers’ organization, either players or staff. The annual fundraiser carnival the Glaciers supported at the end of August for a local youth center had allowed him to become acquainted with a lot of the other people in attendance.
Would the carnival be another thing he missed out on? He couldn’t think about that. It wouldn’t help his frame of mind or change the situation.
Instead he focused on the faces he didn’t recognize. There were more than a few, but only one he kept returning to. Her black hair was styled in a wispy array around her narrow face, the ends curled up and tipped in a striking shade of dark blue that made him smile. It was fun. Free. A subtle statement and defiance all in one.
Her dress was a sleeveless number that clasped in a halter around her neck to display toned shoulders and arms. Reminiscent of the twenties flapper style, it draped over her chest in layers of fringe that teased instead of clung to her form, ending in a shifting dance around her thighs. Long legs drew his eyes down to strappy silver heels that were sleek without being obnoxiously tall.
But it was her smile that entrapped him. It was wide and freely given. With lips colored a deep red and dark eyes outlined with long lashes and deft makeup, her features were a mix between classic beauty and edgy rebellion.
He’d first caught sight of her at the ceremony, where she’d sat beside the big ex-military guy with a buzz cut named Rock and his partner, Carter. His quick double take had stunned him, the reaction a rarity for him.
Over the course of the nigh
t he’d managed to notice too many things about her. Like how she touched with ease. A gentle brush on the arm, hand, shoulder of whomever she talked to. It was effortless and probably unnoticed by her. Or her warm charm that had everyone smiling back at her. And her movements that were graceful without being fluttery. Was she a professional dancer? He could easily picture it.
Why he noticed these things was a mystery. Or not.
He pressed his fingers to his eyes and cut off the vision of her being swirled around the dance floor by an elegant Carter. The man had a face that had never met the end of a hockey stick, fist or elbow. Unlike Scott’s own face.
Not that it really mattered. It wasn’t like he was going to make a move on her. He’d stopped picking up women not long after he’d reinjured his knee for the fourth time. That was two years back. The cocktail of medications he’d been living on since then allowed him to skate but did shit for his sex life. Given a choice between playing and fucking, he’d picked the obvious one.
“You okay, Scott?”
Scott dropped his hands, a smile secured to his face when he met the worried frown of the Glaciers’ owner, Vincent Segar.
“Just fine, thanks.” He made to stand, but the man waved him off and took the seat Grenick had vacated. Nerves raced through Scott to twist in his stomach. He sat up, feet dropping to the ground. “It’s a nice event.” He nodded toward the general area of the party in an attempt to take the focus off himself.
“It is.” Segar agreed with a nod. He crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders back, spine straight. No slouching for him. Or removing his tie and jacket. The thick gray hair that’d only receded slightly and the lines that etched out the edges of his eyes lent to the aura of power he effortlessly commanded. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“What’s not to enjoy?” It was an evasive answer, and Scott rushed to change the focus again. “I saw you dancing with Vanessa earlier.”
A small smile removed the sternness from the man’s express. “It’s good to see her happy.” He shifted his attention then, his penetrating gaze digging into Scott. “I’d like to see that for everyone in my organization.”
