Playing Hard_A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "I still don't understand why I have to be here. Or why it's even a big deal. Half of what Caleb said was taken out of context."

  "Yeah, but the other half wasn't."

  "So? I still don't understand why there has to be this big press conference about it. It's not like—"

  "Because it went viral—and not in a good way. Because it's a slow news day in the sports world. Because coming right after that kiss made things even worse."

  "And I told you, that was just for show and—"

  "And you need to actually look at it. Trust me, it didn't look like it was for show. And there isn't a single person out there who would believe it if you told them, so don't. It'll just make things look worse."

  "I still don't—"

  Chuckie silenced her with a single glance then led her into a small room. Shannon stumbled to a halt, her eyes widening at the small crowd gathered there. James Murphy, the owner of the Blades; Paul Branton, the owner of the Banners. A lithe woman she had never seen before with dark blonde hair and high cheekbones stood in the far corner, talking to Ian Donovan, the Banners' head coach. Even Diane Reynolds, her own head coach, was here.

  And sitting on one of the leather sofas all by himself was Caleb, immaculately attired in an expensive suit. Shannon glanced down at her own outfit: dress slacks, black flats, and a fitted blue blouse. She thought she had looked crisp and professional—until seeing Caleb.

  He glanced over at her then slowly straightened, obviously ready to say something. Shannon narrowed her eyes at him and spoke before he could get the chance. "You are such a fucking jerk."

  Caleb straightened even more and pinned her in place with a glare. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me. And people talk about my mouth? At least I never—"

  "Shannon, enough." Chuckie pulled her further into the room and shut the door behind them. Then he led her over to the sofa and motioned for her to have a seat next to Caleb. One look at the expression on his face was enough to keep her from arguing so she simply took a seat—and made a point of sliding away from Caleb, just to irritate both men.

  She was rethinking her decision a few seconds later when the eyes of everyone in the room zeroed in on her. No, not just her—them. Her and Caleb. She shot a questioning glance in his direction then turned back to Chuckie, wrongly assuming he was the safest one in the room.

  "Are you two dating?" His abrupt question split the heavy silence. Shannon straightened with a frown and shook her head.

  "No."

  "Yes."

  Her mouth dropped open in shock. She twisted toward Caleb, surprised to see him casually sprawled out on the sofa, his arm draped across the back near her shoulders. That crooked smile teased one corner of his mouth as he watched her.

  Shannon leaned toward him. "No. We are not dating."

  Caleb's grin grew a little wider. "How many times have we gone out to grab a bite to eat?"

  "That doesn't mean—"

  "And how many times have we kissed?"

  "We did not—" Her objection was cut off by the sound of light-hearted music underscored by thunderous applause and cheers. Shannon tilted her head to the side then swallowed a groan when she saw the replay of the kiss cam splashed across a large screen hanging on the far wall. The lithe blonde hit a button on the remote she was holding, replaying it one more time before turning it off and facing them.

  "If it was just the kiss, we could play this off as a joke—even if the expression on each of your faces says otherwise." The woman hit another button and a replay of Caleb's interview flashed across the screen.

  Well, if I was forced to bet, you know my money would be on the Banners. That's the only thing that makes sense, right? We're the professionals, after all.

  You're saying the Blades aren't a professional team?

  No. Of course not. It's just—

  Or is it because it's a women's team?

  That's not what I said. All I meant was that—

  You don't think they have a chance at all, do you?

  If we were really playing? I'd have to say no, I don't. The Blades are too new, too inexperienced. You can't even compare them to us.

  Caleb groaned, the sound barely audible. Shannon looked over at him, felt a tiny twinge of sympathy—but not enough to stay quiet. "Just had to run your mouth, didn't you?"

  She whispered the words so only he could hear. His head shot up and he stared at her, something unreadable in his green gaze. It looked like he wanted to say something but he never got the chance. The screen went blank and the woman turned toward them again.

  "Unfortunately, both the kiss and the interview went viral, which means we need to respond."

  Shannon raised her hand then leaned forward, her eyes never leaving the other woman's. "Who the hell are you?"

  The woman floundered for a second, her gaze shooting to the Banners' owner then darting to their head coach. Shannon didn't miss the small blush fanning across high cheekbones and for a split-second, she could almost feel the other woman's embarrassment.

  "This is Lori Evans. She's a digital media specialist for the Baltimore Banners. She's also the one who worked with me in setting up the exhibition game." Chuckie broke the silence before it became more than an awkward pause. Shannon nodded then leaned back, stiffening when she felt Caleb's arm brush against her shoulders. She almost moved but one of his hands squeezed her shoulder in subtle warning. She looked over at him, saw that same warning flash in his green eyes and in the small shake of his head.

  What the hell was that all about?

  Shannon mentally rolled her eyes then turned back and tried to listen to the rest of the conversation. And listen was all she got to do because it quickly became obvious neither she nor Caleb was going to be allowed to talk.

  At least, not yet. Not until they were herded out in front of the reporters to recite the story they'd been given.

  They were colleagues, yes. Yes, they were also friends. They'd gone out a few times but they weren't ready to comment on the status of any relationship, choosing to keep it private.

  As for Caleb's unfortunate words during the post-game interview in Anaheim, they'd been taken out of context. Yes, they were both looking forward to the game. Yes, it was nothing more than a friendly game for charity, but that didn't mean there wasn't some lighthearted competition going on at the same time.

  And yes, either team could win. The Blades were just as good as the Banners and could boast a winning record for the season so far. They'd have to wait and see how it played out.

  Shannon glanced over at Caleb during that last bit and nearly choked on her laughter. No, he wasn't happy about that last part, not at all. And she wasn't the only one who picked up on his expression, either, because Coach Donovan leaned down and said something to him, the words too quiet for Shannon to hear. Whatever the man said must have carried some weight, though, because the color drained from Caleb's face before he gave the coach a curt nod.

  And then they were being ushered out of the room and down the hall, around a corner and into another room. Shannon stumbled in surprise at the unexpected crowd, felt the heated weight of Caleb's hand in the middle of her back as he steadied her.

  "Just smile and pretend you're in the zone."

  Shannon nodded at his whispered words of encouragement, her gaze scanning the reporters with their cameras and microphones and tablets. Her eyes rested on a familiar face and she released a quick sigh of relief when TR's gaze caught hers.

  The other woman hurried over, ignoring the glares of the other reporters in the room—mostly men. She rested her hand on Shannon's arm, gently nudging her away from Caleb and the others.

  "Bet you didn't think you'd be facing something like this, huh?"

  "No. It feels like a firing squad."

  TR laughed then leaned in closer. "You can handle it. Just look over at me if you get nervous or stumped. Now go give them hell."

  Shannon barely had time to nod before she was whisked away to the large ta
ble in the front of the room. The logos for both teams had been placed on the wall behind the table, creating a colorful backdrop that would make an impressive picture. Shannon could already hear cameras clicking as she took a seat in the center, next to Caleb. And it wasn't just the two of them: Chuckie and Lori flanked them, along with each owner and each coach.

  Shannon swallowed nervous laughter and tried to ignore all the cameras. She felt something press against her leg and glanced down to see Caleb's hand give her thigh a reassuring pat. She almost brushed it away but Chuckie nudged her in the side and shook his head, just the tiniest bit. Then it didn't matter because Caleb's hand was gone and the questions started flying.

  Were they dating?

  How long had they been seeing each other?

  What was the story behind the kiss?

  The answers to those were short and sweet, using the responses they had both been coached on. Shannon glanced around, saw the clear doubt on some of the faces looking back at her, but she didn't care. They could doubt all they want but there wasn't much more to say since the questions had already been answered.

  Mostly.

  Then came the questions about the game. How had it been set up? Were they expecting a large turnout? How had the logistics been handled and how had it been approved in the middle of the season?

  Shannon relaxed just a little as those were answered by the owners and the two PR people flanking them. She didn't even worry when Caleb was questioned on his poor choice of words—he sat beside her, cool and relaxed, a hint of a smile on his face as he calmly explained each comment away.

  The questions were finally dying down and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost over. She'd done it. A few more minutes then she'd be able to go back home, change, and get to work without missing any more time. Just a few more minutes…

  Another reporter stood up, jumping to his feet like he was afraid the party would end before he got a chance to get there. "Ms. Wiley, a question."

  Shannon stiffened as a trickle of unease danced along her spine. She leaned forward, her brows raised in question. "Yes?"

  "Don't you think it's unrealistic for women to even think of competing with men on a professional level? And what makes you think any man would even tolerate something like that?"

  Shannon felt Chuckie stiffen next to her, felt his elbow nudge against her side in silent warning. Even Caleb seemed to stiffen, whether in outrage or for some other reason, she didn't know. What she did know was that he was getting ready to answer and if he did—

  No, she couldn't let him. Whatever he was about to say wouldn't be good, she knew that as sure as she knew the reporter was just waiting for a juicy soundbite. The question had been directed at her and she was the one who needed to answer.

  She kicked Caleb's foot under the table and leaned forward, ready to let the first thing that sprang to mind drop from her mouth. Her gaze darted around the room, coming to rest on TR for a quick second. The woman smiled and nodded, giving her a thumbs-up in encouragement.

  Shannon smiled back, the tension leaving her as she faced the reporter. She could do this. She knew she could.

  "It's not unrealistic at all. And if you've ever seen us play, you'd know that. As for any man being expected to tolerate it..." Shannon couldn't quite the stop eyeroll when she forced the word past her lips. "I don't think a real man would have any issues about it. And to be honest, that's why not many men can meet my high standards. So far, Caleb's measuring…up…just fine."

  Chapter Eleven

  "So I'm measuring up just fine, huh?"

  Shannon ducked her head so a thick hank of hair hid her face—but not before he saw the bright flush spread across her cheeks. Caleb tossed back his head and laughed, then choked it back when she elbowed him in the side.

  "It's not funny. And it sounded a whole lot better in my head."

  "It didn't sound that bad."

  "I'm sure it didn't, not to you." She shook her head then reached up and brushed the hair from her face with a sigh. "I don't think Chuckie is ever going to forgive me. Or let me in front of a camera again."

  "I think you're worrying over nothing. It really wasn't that bad. And that little pause you added, right before you said up—" Caleb laughed again, sidestepping so he'd be out of reach of her elbow.

  "Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Everyone else did. It was embarrassing."

  At first, he thought she was just being overly-dramatic, in a funny sort of way. But he caught a glimpse of worry in her eyes and saw the way her shoulders hunched around her ears. The movement was as brief as that expression on her face but not brief enough. Was she really worried about it?

  Yeah, she really was.

  There was something about that small glimpse of vulnerability that stopped him in his tracks—literally. He grabbed her hand and moved off to the side of the sidewalk, tugging her with him. The fact that she came willingly told him how upset she really was. Caleb ignored the tug of emotion he felt at her expression, telling himself he was imagining things. Did he feel sympathy for her? Yeah, of course he did. He wasn't that heartless or uncaring. But that's all it was: sympathy. And it had nothing to do with the way he kept her hand cradled in his, or with the sudden urge he had to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay.

  Or the urge to kiss her until she forgot everything about this afternoon.

  He ignored both urges and dropped her hand then leaned against the wall. The coldness of the bricks seeped through his jacket and shirt and into his skin, a contradiction to the heated blood flowing through his veins. This was a bad idea, he should have never asked her out tonight. Not because there was anything wrong with going out for pizza but because he wanted one hell of a lot more than pizza.

  He wanted her.

  Only he couldn't have her, not the way he wanted. Shannon wasn't a one-night stand, even if he had been considering just that not too long ago. But the more he was around her…

  He liked her, dammit. Which meant his former plans had to be scratched. Which meant he had to put all thoughts of her long legs wrapped around him and sturdy curves pressed against him completely out of his mind.

  Yeah, sure. Easier said than done.

  Shannon shifted in front of him, curling her arms in front of her and huddling deeper in her coat to fight off the chill of the night air. "Is there a reason we're stopped in the middle of the sidewalk?"

  Was there a reason? Caleb gave himself a mental shake. A reason. Yes, there had been a reason. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her there was no reason for her to be embarrassed. He just needed to stop looking at her mouth and thinking—

  He cleared his throat and finally met her gaze. "It wasn't that bad."

  "You said that already."

  "And I'm repeating it because it's the truth. The guy was an ass. You pretty much put him in his place."

  "Yeah. Uh-huh. And made you sound like some sex god in the process."

  Caleb choked back his laughter and wondered if she had any idea how close her words were to his own thoughts. Not about the sex god part—although yeah, that certainly wouldn't hurt his reputation—but the sex part.

  Definitely the sex part.

  Only no, she didn't have a clue. Not about what he was thinking. Not about what she did to him. Not even about how she looked, standing there in her worn denim jeans that hugged every inch of those long legs, her head tilted back and her mouth slightly parted as she watched him with wide brown eyes.

  "I hope you know this is all your fault."

  He frowned, wondering if he had missed something while his mind was somewhere it shouldn't be. "What's my fault?"

  "Everything. But especially this afternoon. If you hadn't run your mouth during that interview last night, none of this would have happened."

  "It was taken out of context."

  Shannon's brows shot up in disbelief. "Out of context? Oh, please. You were smooth about it but you're not going to stand there and tell me you didn't mean every si
ngle word you said. You really don't think we can beat you."

  "Could you? Maybe. But it's not a fair game. We've been playing a hell of a lot longer. We've got more experience—"

  "I've been playing for seventeen years. How about you?"

  "I—" Caleb frowned when he realized he'd only been playing two years longer. He shook his head, brushing her question away. "That doesn't matter. We've been together longer as a team. We have more game experience, more practice time, more ice time. It only makes sense to think we'd win against a brand-new team. We have the advantage."

  "Yeah, okay. If you say so. It's still your fault. You should have just kept quiet. If you hadn't let that guy goad you, we wouldn't have had that awful press conference today and I wouldn't have embarrassed myself."

  "You didn't embarrass yourself."

  "Yeah, I did." She uncrossed her arms and poked him in the chest with her finger. "But you were the one responsible for the other night. You and that stupid kiss—"

  "Stupid?"

  "Yeah. Stupid. You just had to show off—"

  Caleb didn't stop to think, just reached out and pulled her closer and claimed her mouth with his own. It was stupid. A bad idea. A really bad idea.

  But he didn't care, not when her mouth opened beneath his with a soft gasp. Not when her hands rested on his shoulders as she stepped even closer, fitting her body against his. Hard and soft and warm.

  Caleb cupped the back of her head with one hand and deepened the kiss, swallowing her soft moan. Or maybe the noise had come from him, the sound born from both desire and surprise. It didn't matter, not when she pressed against him and kissed him back.

  And this…this was so much better than he'd imagined. A hundred times better than that open-mouthed kiss he'd given her the other night in front of eighteen thousand screaming fans. A million times better than that lame ass closed-mouth peck in the parking lot of the diner.