Face-Off

by Nancy Warren

  “I need to change my clothes. I can’t go skating in a little black dress.”

  He leaned forward. “I’m telling you right now that your thoughts are way too limiting. Haven’t you ever watched figure skaters? They skate in dresses all the time.” Then his voice lowered and he got that sexy look in his eyes that made her melt. “Imagine how it would feel, the cool breeze rising up underneath your skirt, maybe letting me get a little feel in if you manage to skate in a straight line without looking at your feet.”

  She tried to look prim and annoyed but only ended up laughing. “You are a sex maniac.”

  “Only with you.”

  She drank the last of her coffee. “Don’t you have to coach the fire and police team today?”

  “Hell.” He smacked himself upside the head. “I totally forgot.”

  “That’s okay.” She wouldn’t be disappointed. Sure, if she hadn’t stupidly reminded him of his coaching gig, she’d be getting another private lesson, but she wasn’t nearly as interested in skating as she was in some other physical activities they could do together.

  However, she had reminded him, and of course that was the right thing to do. Now she had fewer than thirteen days with him. She had a feeling it was going to fly by.

  “Can I call you later?”

  Okay, so lucky thirteen was still a possibility. She nodded. Gave her best attempt at a seductive smile. “You can definitely call me later.”

  She must have done an okay job because he made a low animal growl that called up a corresponding response in her body. Oh, yes, she’d be waiting by the phone.

  BUT WHEN HE CALLED, it was with the disappointing news that he’d been delayed. “My brother and sister demanded a family dinner. We haven’t all been together for a while. I didn’t know how to get out of it. If I told them I had a date, then they’d ask a bunch of nosy questions about you, which I don’t think either of us want.”

  “Right. Of course. I understand.” And she did, all too well. She was his little secret. Not even his family could know about her. It was Michael all over again. Except that with Jarrad the sex was really good, and since she already knew he could never be hers for more than a couple of weeks, she wasn’t hurt that he didn’t want to own up to her presence in his life. At least, not very hurt.

  Later, she was pretty sure she’d suffer when he was gone from her life, but in the meantime, it was so nice to be with him.

  “Can I come over later? After dinner?” he asked.

  “Oh, um…” It wasn’t as if she had anything else to do to make a visit from a celebrity hockey player unwelcome. “Sure.”

  “Great. See you around ten.”

  Her apartment was neat. It was always neat, but with a gentleman caller coming later, she changed the sheets, vacuumed her bedroom, went out and bought fresh flowers. Then she ironed her best silk nightgown. The softness of the fine fabric and the thought that it would soon be the only thing separating her and Jarrad made her feel hot and twitchy.

  She’d already enjoyed the best night of her life, how could she be so greedy as to be panting for a repeat? She’d never thought of herself as a particularly sexual woman.

  Until now.

  When she recalled how bold she’d been last night she felt her cheeks heat. But Jarrad had seemed to like it, and in truth, she’d liked that version of herself too. A woman who wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted. To offer herself to a man who interested her.

  She was strong, sexy, in control. She was right up there with Madonna.

  Though she doubted the Material Girl ironed her own nightgowns—if she even wore them—or spent an afternoon correcting the spelling of second graders.

  She decided to continue on her road to personal boldness and while she was waiting for Jarrad, did her hair in sexy curls, slipped on her silk nightgown and imagined meeting him at the door wearing so little that she was a blatant invitation.

  Then he was there, buzzing her to get in. “Come on up,” she said, and then panicked. What was he going to think of her? Her outfit pretty much begged for sex. Maybe he was here to talk about coaching, to get some more of her advice for seven-year-old boys.

  She raced into her bedroom, tore off the gown, shoved herself into jeans and a sweater, and ran to get the door when he knocked.

  She opened the door.

  He stepped inside.

  She was in his arms.

  He kissed her for a long, long time. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he told her.

  “Me, too.” And then she cursed herself for being such a chicken. She should never have changed. On the other hand, now she’d have the pleasure of having him undress her.

  He backed her into the living room, still kissing her. Oh, it was nice to be in the arms of someone so athletically coordinated. By the time they got to the couch, she was panting with desire.

  So was he.

  She wondered why she’d bothered changing her sheets. They never made it to the bedroom.

  Much later, when they were sprawled on the couch talking idly, he said, “So, did you practice today?”

  “No. I had marking to do.”

  “It’s very important to practice.”

  “I can do it when you’re there, but when I’m on my own I kind of freak out.”

  “Well, until you get the hang of it, I guess I’ll need to be there with you,” he said, perfectly cheerfully. As though teaching a complete novice how to play hockey was as much fun as playing in the NHL.

  “Really? You’d do that?”

  “Sure.” He stretched his arms over his head. She could have watched him do that for hours. The muscles in his arms were so sexy, so defined. His chest was broad, his belly a classic six-pack. She felt like drooling every time she looked at him. “You tired?”

  She didn’t think she’d ever be too tired for more sex with this amazing man. “No.” She glanced up at him from under her lashes. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Hockey, of course,” he said, with a wide “gotcha” grin. He leaped up and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I never joke about the world’s greatest game.”

  “But it’s after midnight.”

  “I know.”

  “We’ll never get in the rink.”

  He began pulling on his clothes. Glanced up at her. “Care to make a small wager on my chances?”

  In that moment she saw the little boy in him, the hockey hellion he must have been as a kid. Charm and talent and guts. What a combination.

  “I think I’ll save my money for something sensible. Like bail for when we get thrown in jail for breaking and entering.”

  “Put your clothes on and stop stalling, woman.”

  She couldn’t imagine Michael ever calling her “woman.” He was much too politically correct. But the strange thing was that Michael had all the veneer of a man who respected women, while Jarrad might talk like a redneck, but he was the one willing to teach a hapless female how to play hockey. Actions, she reminded herself, speak louder than words.

  “Yes, sir,” she said and put her clothes back on.

  “I like your hair like that, by the way,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “Now go get your stuff.”

  7

  OF COURSE SHE’D KNOWN he’d get into the rink. But it was even easier than she’d imagined.

  “Big J!” The night manager had been thrilled to welcome them into the complex in the middle of the night.

  And he talked all the way as he led them to a rink. Mostly about Jarrad’s team and some of the game highlights he recalled.

  “It’s a damn shame, what happened to you,” he said at last.

  “Ah, I had a good run. I’d have had to retire soon anyway. Not getting any younger.”

  He talked a good line, but she suspected he wasn’t having an easy time adjusting to his unexpected retirement. The man had too much energy. Well, witness him bringing her here at midnight
to skate. After sex.

  The lights were dim, and it was sort of spooky seeing all the ghostly trophies in cases and feeling the emptiness of the usually bustling space.

  The night manager unlocked the rink and hit the lights. “You’ve got the whole place to yourselves,” he announced cheerfully.

  “Now, doesn’t that sound good?”

  Everything with him sounded good.

  She couldn’t believe how much fun it was. He teased her, bullied her, pushed her, and by the end of two hours, she pretty much forgot she wasn’t back playing field hockey. Skating was beginning to feel natural again, she’d lost her fear and concentrated on getting the puck—which seemed to fly around at astonishing speeds across the ice—and smacking it in the general direction of the other goal.

  “Okay, champ,” he said, skating up and giving her a hug. “You can hit the showers now.”

  “Hit the showers?” she said, laughing. “I guess I’ll have to wait until I get home.”

  But a teasing, sexy smile was already squinching up his eyes, and that one extra-long scar-turned-laugh-line pulled her in. “I say we shower here.”

  “At two in the morning?”

  “Who cares what time it is, we’re sweaty and I am personally very, very dirty.”

  She laughed so suddenly the sound echoed around the empty rink. “You certainly are.” She shrugged. Since she’d become involved with Jarrad she knew nothing was ever going to be normal and staid. “Okay, I’m not sure where the women’s change room is.”

  His wicked grin only intensified. “I bet you’ve always wanted to see where the naked men shower.”

  Not until now. But the very words had her conjuring him up naked and soapy and her naked and soapy and… “You read my mind,” she said, her voice going low and sexy in spite of herself.

  He chuckled, deep in his throat. Grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

  A deep ache began low in her belly. There was something about this man that made the craziest things deeply erotic.

  They walked down the dim, empty corridor to the men’s shower. He entered first, hit the lights.

  “You know, this isn’t the most erotic place I’ve ever been,” she said, regarding the harshly lit shower room. Wooden benches, metal lockers, a row of sinks and mirrors and big shower cubicles weren’t exactly equivalent to a spa. Still, it was ruthlessly clean. And he was here with her.

  “It gets better when you’re naked,” he promised her.

  And then he pulled her to him and began to kiss her. And like that she zoomed from zero to a hundred.

  She was running on an adrenaline high from the fun of skating in the middle of the night, and she was tired too, which added to the surreal feeling. She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors and barely recognized her usually neat self. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks were flushed from exercise, cold and probably lust, and her lips were puffy and wet from his kisses.

  She was so happy her school was closed that Monday, stretching out an amazing weekend.

  Her clothes felt suddenly too heavy, enormous, like a ski suit in summer. She began pulling off clothing, grabbing it, dragging at it, not remotely caring that the night manager could walk in at any time.

  Jarrad caught her fever—or maybe she’d caught it from him—and yanked and pulled at his own clothing until there was nothing but a pile of discarded fabric between them.

  He was the most glorious thing she’d ever seen naked. And the way his eyes worshipped her, she knew he liked her more modest body too. Which made her feel beautiful.

  He started the shower and then pulled her in under the flow of water. She sputtered a little as her head went straight under, then pulled out and enjoyed the sluice of wetness over her hot, sweaty skin.

  Big hands reached for her, soaped up and ready. The light was ridiculous, fluorescent, bouncing off white tile. She’d been in five-star hotel bedrooms that weren’t as exciting.

  He soaped her breasts, thoroughly, kissing her with his wet mouth. And as his hands began to roam, cleaning her thoroughly, she felt herself begin to dissolve.

  “Turn around.” His voice was low and commanding in her ear.

  She did. Felt his hands, rough and tender, move over her back, her hips, rubbing her butt, her thighs.

  “Spread your legs.” Again the commanding tone, which she kind of liked. She thought about refusing, to see what he’d do, but she so wanted him there that she complied, easing them apart a little bit.

  “More.”

  A spurt of lust shot through her. She spread. Wider.

  And he touched her with fingers that were exquisitely sensitive on those big, rough hands. Her hands grasped the white, shiny tile, as slick with wetness as she was herself, she felt she needed something to hang on to or she’d slide in a boneless heap at his feet.

  While he rubbed her, she felt his cock, hard and eager at her back, bumping her gently as she moved helplessly against his magic fingers.

  Heat built and she heard herself moan, resting her cheek against the cool tile. Closing her eyes against the bright light, while the water pounded down over them.

  Climax flowed through her, sudden and pure, like the streams of water coming down. She turned, half blind with passion and water, reached for him. “My turn,” she said and took the soap.

  Soaping up his chest was a delight. She loved the hairiness of him, the big lather she created and then rubbed all over him. Over his gorgeous athlete’s biceps, his ropy forearms and wrists, his hands, finger by finger, while she made other parts of him wait.

  He’d commanded her and she’d obeyed. Would he be as smart?

  “Turn around,” she ordered in imitation of the way he’d spoken to her.

  She thought he raised an eyebrow, but it was hard to tell with all the steam and water. He turned.

  She smiled to herself, enjoying having her hands on his lovely, muscular back. His butt was round and hard. She washed all the way down his legs, and then without words, turned him, so his jutting cock was level with her mouth.

  When he saw her intent, he said, “Oh, baby, yes.”

  She opened for him, took him in. Loved him with her mouth.

  He was so beautiful, so hard and deliciously big. She explored all of him with her tongue, licking underneath, taking his balls gently in her mouth which made him shudder and moan.

  He was hers completely. She loved the heady sense of her own female power. Playing with him, torturing him just a little as she built him up slowly, keeping control so he had to adjust to her pace.

  “You are killing me,” he groaned, and then she took pity on him and let him fly.

  He pulled her to her feet, kissing her deeply.

  “You are everything,” he said.

  8

  ON THEIR WAY OUT, Jarrad stopped to thank the night manager for letting them in. He noticed that Sierra hung back, as though the guy would know what they’d been doing. Which, come to think of it, he probably did.

  Jarrad felt like he had when he’d first been drafted. As though everything was ahead of him and he could do anything he put his mind to.

  He stopped dead, astonished to find that the darkness which had plagued him since he first found out he wouldn’t be playing professionally anymore had mysteriously lifted.

  How could one school-teaching, fledgling hockey-playing, sweetheart of a woman change a man in such a short time?

  It couldn’t be possible.

  But if not, then how else to explain the sudden knowledge that everything was going to be all right?

  He turned to leave and the guy said, “Oh, by the way, we had some press types here earlier lookin’ for you.”

  Irritation tried to poke holes in his feeling of happiness. “What did you tell them?”

  “Told ’em to piss off,” then he nodded to Sierra. “If you’ll pardon the expression.”

  “Certainly,” she said, always polite.

  “Thanks,” Jarrad said and grabbing her hand they left.

>   Even though it was 3:00 a.m. or so, he still checked the parking lot before hustling the pair of them into his car.

  As they hit the road, he said, “I guess I figured they wouldn’t bother me up here. So my ex is hooking up again, so what?”

  She touched his hand with hers, and he felt ridiculously reassured. “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry about? I’m the one dragging you into a mess no woman needs. I’m sure you don’t want your students asking what you’re doing hanging out with that guy who used to play hockey. Or your girlfriends and family asking a bunch of questions you might not be ready for.”

  Her hand gripped his so suddenly he was startled. “Is that why you’ve been hiding me?” He turned and found her eyes big and serious as she regarded him.

  “I haven’t been hiding you. I’ve been trying to protect you.”

  “I thought—I thought— Oh, never mind.” She shook her head and turned forward once more.

  “You thought what?”

  “I thought I wasn’t important enough for you. Not high-profile enough I guess. Not a celebrity.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  She shook her head, kind of sadly. “I’d love the world to see us together. I want to meet your family. But then, with only two weeks, I figured we’d keep it quiet, then no one has to know.”

  “What do you mean two weeks?”

  “Before you go back.”

  Had he really said that? He put an arm out and pulled her to him. “You know what’s great about being retired? You can do anything you want with your time. I don’t have to go anywhere.”

  She turned back to him and he thought her face was the most beautiful sight in the world.

  “We’ve only started this thing. Who knows where it will lead? All I know is that you make me feel like the world’s full of possibilities again. I think I lost that after the accident.”

  He looked at her for a long moment before continuing. “You’re smart and sexy and beautiful and you care about people.”

  “I’m a teacher, not a fancy celebrity.”