Who was she kidding? This evening came with a price tag, probably his way of bidding her good-bye, too. Ed had come to her rescue, and now he wanted his life back. That suited her just fine. Or did it?
While she waited, each puff of exhaled air floated as a white cloud before her eyes. Forget this craziness. She’d find her way to the front of the Joe Louis Arena and catch a cab.
Whirling to head her way out, her numb feet had trouble keeping up. She’d been out here too long. The second she pivoted toward the exit, a door scraped open.
“Hey, sweet girl. You aren’t leaving, are you?”
CHAPTER 21
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”
Rochelle hesitated and sighed. Against her better judgment, the sound of his voice pulled her back, kept her from leaving, and stripped the cold from her. Her toes tingled warmth at his greeting. She turned and took in even more warmth resonating from those baby blues. “Hi to you, too. Must have been a long shower.” She scrubbed her arms with no idea why he took so long. “It was getting cold out here.” She frowned. “And please don’t sweet girl me.”
“Oh-kay.” Ed plucked at the pointy top of her hat. “You shouldn’t cover up your hair.” While she cringed at the contact, he offered his arm for support and encouraged her to take it. She declined, sucked in her bottom lip. The physical contact made her knees feel weak.
He scowled, reminiscent of the way he’d glowered at his opponents tonight. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking. Are you all right?” He scanned the area with a defensive gaze. “Did someone bother you?”
Avoiding a lengthy discussion of the truth, she stumbled back a step. She couldn’t come right out and say, “You scare me to death. I can’t stand for you to be near me. I hate when someone touches me. There’s nowhere I feel safe anymore.” Recently, her life of self-determination had taken a backseat to fear, which grew a little more each day, in spite of her prayers to the contrary. “No one bothered me, but my imagination kicked in. I was thinking about Black Friday. In the parking garage. Remembering the guy who tried to … you know.”
She stared into the face which had calmed her that horrible night. Startling blue eyes, surrounded by long, thick lashes. Too long for a man. It wasn’t fair. Small crinkles fanned from the edges. When teasing, his lips, thick and firm, broke easily into a grin, but when he showed anger, like in the arena, the emotion coursed through them like thunder in the midst of a storm.
Here and now, Ed’s concern calmed her almost immediately. She owed it to him to appear like a rational adult. “I’m fine. But I think that end heater stopped. I heard a couple creaks and groans and then nothing. Getting chilly. I was about ready to leave and find a cab. I’m not sure where the limo went.”
“I’m here now. No need to be afraid.” He moved toward her, arms stretched wide. “And we can work on the keeping warm.”
Rochelle took a step back.
Ed’s brow furrowed.
“Thank you for the ticket and the limo ride. I’m still not sure why you invited me, but it was a lot of fun.”
“Don’t you remember my promise?” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
His promise? Rochelle shuddered to imagine him promising a woman anything. There had been plenty of stories she’d heard and read about his reputation, including at least a half dozen comments within the graffiti on these walls. But since he’d been so gracious, there was an unspoken obligation of gratitude she hadn’t yet fulfilled. “Your promise?”
“Yeah.” With the lightest touch, he brushed her elbow, steering her out the back of the building. His eyes soaked her with compassion as he glanced down. “When you finally released the death grip on my arm that first night in the hospital. You made me promise to take care of you. Remember now?”
Did she ever. In spite of the frosty air, her cheeks stung with heat, and she slid cool gloves across them. Didn’t help. She stared at the new gloves. What had happened to her favorite pair? And what else had the drugs caused her to utter in the emergency room?
“But you really didn’t have to go to this length. A silver-plated can of pepper spray with my name engraved on the side would have sufficed.” A chuckle, a bit too loud for the occasion, broke from her lips. Good grief. She certainly hadn’t intended to flirt with the man like a groupie. When she finally found a man she wanted to spend time with, he wouldn’t be the kind of guy who changed women as frequently as his boxers.
Still, his dimples deepened as Rochelle cleared her throat. Walking side by side, they made their way to the remote, private parking lot, and the woman in her couldn’t resist scouring him with one more discreet glance. If only … She swallowed harder this time.
“That’s quite a lump over your eye.” She had to make conversation or die.
Ed reached up. His fingers tap-danced over the steri-strips on a forehead which instantly turned into a thundercloud. “That would be a slash courtesy of Grabey. He’s dogged me ever since we wiped the floor with his team during play-offs last year and the year before that. I’m honored with at least one trophy each game.”
“Ever thought maybe it’s your attitude?”
Ed stepped back and shot her a peculiar expression. “My attitude?”
“You do have quite the reputation for fighting on the ice. All those fights can’t be with Grabey, can they?”
“How about if you tell me what you really think of hockey? Of me in general.”
She shrugged. Hockey didn’t prioritize high on her list. Men and their connection to sports confused her. Physical games were merely games. Mental contests, now that was a different story. Behind the microphone with hours of research under her belt, she came across much tougher. Tough? She hadn’t thought of herself that way in over a month. Longer if truth be told. But she was strong. Ten years of making do on her own should mean something.
Not expecting him to understand, she thought a positive spin might be in order. “I guess your game takes special skills.”
Ed nodded. “Absolutely.”
Having passed a few moments of uncomfortable silence, they sidestepped a surprising number of cars as flakes the size of paper cutouts whirled in the air. Ultimately, they arrived alongside a red Viper.
He took off his glove and passed a hand over the surface. The satin finish shouted big bucks. According to Ed, many of the players parked here instead of the structure; he explained that it helped to avoid the crush of autograph hounds. Plus, no one wanted his ’Vette or Lexus keyed.
Rochelle removed her own glove. Her fingers couldn’t resist the smooth exterior either. Though freeze-your-skin cold to the touch, a luxurious sleekness added to the lines and she anticipated the car shifting from fifth to sixth, pulling away from every other vehicle on the expressway with ease.
“Quite a ride, I must say. A lot smoother than the SUV.” And a lot more expensive.
Reaching over and lifting her hand from the hood, he used her index finger to point in the direction of a silver Ford 150 a few feet away. “I’ll bet you’re right, and whoever owns that beast is a fortunate man, but there’s my chariot.”
Her mouth drooped. “A truck.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” He smirked as she shrank inside her coat for what she’d been thinking of him … again. As if he could read her mind, he offered a knowing smile. “But I have to admit, the 150’s all decked out. Not a plain Jane for sure.”
Her size-seven running shoes swirled more like tens in her mouth. “Oh, I’m not disappointed.” She had misjudged him as a speed man—one to sixty in four seconds. In more ways than one. But a truck? Visions of her favorite country singer immediately darted into her head, and she couldn’t stop her own smile.
He grinned and maintained the tight grip on her hand. Comforting warmth crept through her glove. Her eyes widened at the crush of his fingers. Safe, calming.
Ed tucked her hand close to his chest and tugged her toward the truck. “Then let’s get out of here.” His grip only tightened, and she didn’t pull away.
With an abrupt change in direction, heart skittering from the run, she looked into his face so the eye contact added validity to her words. “Well, this was more fun than I had anticipated and I appreciated the royal treatment. But it’s late, and I have to go home. Where’s the limo?”
“I told them to leave after they dropped you off.”
Rochelle exhaled with resignation, realizing his intention. Cold, white air puffed in front of her for the g’zillionth time. “If you wouldn’t mind walking or driving me to the entrance where I can grab a taxi before I turn into a pumpkin.”
Ed frowned but the edges of his mouth curved up. “A pumpkin, eh? I thought I heard a glass slipper clattering next to me.”
She must sound like an incoherent fool. Much like when she made her appointment with Dr. Reinholdt and asked him if he thought his techniques were playing God. Why didn’t she learn? The self-assured young woman who commanded high ratings with her radio show had been humbled by this recent inconsistent behavior.
Would the real Rochelle Cassidy please stand up?
She wouldn’t even mind being called Motor Mouth if only her attitude returned full force instead of this ’fraidy cat who’d come to dwell in her body.
Trapped by the hard lock of his gaze, her eyes shifted beyond his shoulder.
Furtive movement. Hair tickled the back of her neck. No. No. No.
She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. The surging rhythm of her heart throbbed its alarm and sent her into fight or flight. Deep breaths. In and out. Faster and faster. The same guy?
Ed whirled. “What did you see?”
“A man. By your truck. He looked … like…” She shuddered and shrank inside her coat.
This couldn’t be happening again.
CHAPTER 22
MAGGIE CRINGED. WAS THAT some guy shouting on the TV or Erik’s voice?
Her head snapped around as she struggled to focus at the doorway. Wake up, you fool.
Not Erik. Must be the thriller she’d been watching.
She stared a second at the fifty-inch screen in her room. Movie finished, just the news blaring now. She relaxed against her pillow.
After clicking the remote off, Maggie revisited her glass. She hoped Erik wouldn’t come up with a creative excuse for staying out tonight. She wanted nothing more than an evening alone. Not totally alone, but she always loved an evening spent with one or both of her two favorite men—Jack Daniels and Captain Morgan.
Erik disapproved.
Who cared? He shouldn’t stick his nose in her business any more than she stuck hers in his. He was out with one of his flavors of the night. Probably that nurse at his clinic. The one who called here all hours to let him know how a patient was doing. Oh, please. Since when did it take half an hour to read a patient’s vitals? But she continued to let Erik think she was ignorant.
No need to play all of her cards at one time.
If he were home, he’d be lecturing her on the no-no’s of taking sleeping pills with alcohol.
He should be glad. After all, if she didn’t wake up, he’d be the beneficiary of her insurance policy.
At least … he still thought he was.
She giggled over her glass of whiskey rocks. Then giggled some more.
If only he knew.
CHAPTER 23
ED DROPPED ROCHELLE’S HAND. “Stay put.” And dashed to the side of his truck. Spinning with his arms spread wide, he shouted, “No one’s here.”
“Hey, McGrath.”
Ed whipped back, almost knocking over a middle-aged man and a small boy sporting a carrot top. The boy, dwarfed by a hockey stick, lugged it closer.
What the…? “Who are you?” His hands fisted at his side.
“Sorry.” The guy held up a defensive posture. “Sorry to have startled you. My grandson had to, well. He had to step behind my Jeep for a minute, and then we saw you coming.” The older man stammered, clearly ill-at-ease. “But, hey, the Pain Machine doesn’t scare, right?” A nervous laugh followed.
Eyes narrowed, Ed took in the man and boy while peering at Rochelle from the side. A face whiter than snow and eyes the size of hockey pucks stared back. He straightened, not wanting to make more of it than necessary. That might frighten her still further. “Right. So why are you two back here in the private lot?”
“John Palletino said it would be all right. Just this once. He’s a buddy, ya know.” The guy’s expression spoke the truth. People generally weren’t lying while their hands were shaking. “Any, uh, chance my grandson, here, could have an autograph?”
With an expectant glance, the man lifted the stick and offered a felt pen. The boy next to him had hope spelled out in freckles and wide eyes.
An autograph. A lousy autograph causing all this trouble. What was Palletino thinking? He needed to stick to his job and not do favors for friends.
“Sure.” Ed took the pen, leaned down, and signed the stick.
“Gee, thanks.”
“No problem, buddy.” Ed patted the boy’s shoulder and attempted a smile in spite of how his stomach lurched.
Rochelle was afraid.
He was the cause.
#
Not the favorite fan, not an angry councilman.
Nothing but an autograph.
Rochelle leaned against the white Porsche and relief rippled head to toe as she wrestled to unwind. With her gaze flitting from the man and the boy to the area around Ed’s truck, she did a double take. Were they who she had seen steeped in shadows and a snow-filled sky? Or had she seen…
Okay, enough paranoia. Settle down. Realize what a huge part of Ed’s life his fans are. This was the life he had talked about on the phone. A public life steeped in notoriety whether he desired it or not. Did he ever reap the benefits of downtime—moments alone to enjoy his privacy and all he’d worked for? From the look of things, she doubted very much he could step out for a bottle of pop without a mob descending on him, markers in hand, flailing their arms for his attention.
The reality snagged at her heart and re-focused her thoughts on his needs rather than her own for a change. The last month had been painfully all about her.
The fact that his touch did things to her meant she had to stop further contact. His life was different. She wanted certain things in a man.
Powdery salt streaks covered the side of her coat as she moved from the car. A groan escaped her lips. Now, two coats had to go to the cleaners.
With a steady and sure gait, Ed strode back to her side, a sheepish grin plastered on his face. “They only wanted an autograph. Wanna go?” He nodded toward the truck. “Man, look at your coat.” He frowned and bent to brush at the smudges with his glove until they barely showed. When he glanced up, the dimples reappeared. “See there? I’ve got skills.”
Grin spreading before she could check it, she nodded. “Yes. You are handy to have around, Mr. McGrath.”
Stop the flirting—stop the flirting. He isn’t your type.
And under no circumstances would she seriously consider a man who drank. Alcohol had killed her family. Not negotiable. Plus, she would never sacrifice her faith again.
Ed leaned in and whispered in a too familiar manner. “Then we’re all set? I don’t want to hear any more about a taxi all the way out to the burbs.”
Rochelle blew out a breath. It was too cold to stand and argue. She offered her hand. With the softest grasp, his glove dwarfed hers. She didn’t pull away. Her fingers betrayed her as they curled into the cozy, safe haven. Once at the truck, he clasped her arm tighter and lifted her in as if she weighed nothing.
Her foot smacked against the running board with a loud crack,
a reminder she was glad she’d replaced those crippling boots with new, more sensible ones.
Ed clambered into the driver’s side and stopped to face her. “I’m sorry they frightened you. Little guy just wanted an autograph. I have no clue how they convinced Palletino to let them in this lot.” His eyes begged forgiveness as his seatbelt snapped into place; he started the engine.
“I guess you put up with a lot of this.”
What a stupid thing to say. Of course he had people hounding him all the time. Autographs. Anxious women. Yes. She sighed. As much as she enjoyed his overwhelming presence, she had to be sensible. He represented everything that was on her no list.
She couldn’t be one of those anxious women, an object of gossip and ridicule. Her nature wouldn’t suffer that lifestyle. A polite ride home and they didn’t ever have to be in each other’s company again.
“You have no idea. Believe me.” He glanced in the rearview mirror and edged the truck into the street. “I guess a lot of people think I live this … I don’t know, indulgent life teetering on the wild side. If only they knew the whole of it.” His brows lifted a couple times and his eyes widened to tease.
“Oh really?” Rochelle gulped and stared down at her hands. “Imagine that.”
When he talked about the pitfalls of his celebrity, she gazed up, surprisingly interested. His smile softened but didn’t lose the determination ever present in his jaw. Tenderness. Would the real Ed McGrath please come forward?
When he glanced over a second time, his grin spread, carving deep dimples into both cheeks. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but I never realized just how beautiful you are. Now, I can’t keep my eyes on the road.”
“I am?” Danny had never told her. He told every other woman they met, but never her. Of course, men always said this when they wanted something. What did Ed McGrath want? Well, she wasn’t about to be a notch in any holster.
He stretched his arm out, and his finger clipped her under the chin. “That shiner hid those gorgeous eyes of yours.”
The heat in her cheeks spun out of control; she must look like a ripe tomato. Facing the side window, she discovered her reflection while remembering her mother’s words that beauty was only skin deep. All the women she’d seen him with on TV … Oh, no. He might have saved her life when he found her, but wriggling his way into her heart would be a different matter. She had rules. Prerequisites. And any man she spent alone time with should be a Christian. Period.
Fear Is Louder Than Words Page 7
