“Who is this?”
“Very funny. I have a fancy banquet to go to next week and I need to look good.”
“Thank you, Jesus, for this gift I am about to receive,” Caroline whispered. “I’ve waited for this for years. The first thing we need to do is make an appointment with Vonda.”
“Who’s Vonda?”
“The woman who’s going to wax you all over and shape that wild hair.”
Jane looked at the receiver in her hand. “Wax?”
“And hair.”
“The last time I let you do my hair, I ended up looking like Buckwheat.”
“That was tenth grade, and I won’t be doing it. After the hair, we’ll hook you up with Sara at the MAC counter where I work. The woman is a true artist.”
“I was thinking just a little mascara and some lip gloss. A nice black cocktail dress and some cheap pumps.”
“And we got in some fabulous Ferragamos today,” Caroline rattled on as if Jane hadn’t spoken. “In red. They’ll look prefect with a killer little Betsey Johnson I saw upstairs.”
Chapter 8
Boomer: A Hand Shot
Luc pulled the cuffs at his wrists, then slipped onyx studs through each. That morning at practice, he’d heard Jane would be at tonight’s banquet with Darby. He was curious to see what she’d show up wearing-something black, no doubt. He raised his hands and popped the last stud in the banded collar of his starched white shirt. He hadn’t spoken with her since the game against Vancouver.
The second-string goalie had played the last two games, giving Luc a much-needed break, and he hadn’t had the chance to talk to her. Not that he had anything that he wanted to say. But he liked to talk to her, and he liked to provoke her a bit to see her reaction. To see if she’d laugh or if her gaze would narrow and her lips get all pinched. Or if he could bring a blush to her pale cheeks.
He buttoned his charcoal suspenders to the waistband of his pleated trousers and wondered if Jane and Darby were dating now. He didn’t think they were. At least he didn’t like to think they were. Jane was fiery and had a smart mouth, and a geeky pencil pusher was all wrong for her. Especially that pencil pusher. It was no secret that Darby had been against Luc’s trade to the Chinooks and that the two men tolerated each other because they had to. As far as Luc was concerned, Darby Hogue was nutless, while Jane had guts. He guessed that’s what he liked about her. She didn’t run from adversity. She faced it head-on. All five feet of her.
Luc grabbed his black bow tie and moved to his closet’s mirrored doors. He laid it flat against his collar and threaded one end beneath the other. Dissatisfied with the lengths on each side, he pulled it off and started over. It took him three tries before he’d tied it perfectly around his neck. He usually didn’t mind throwing on his tux and attending banquets-especially banquets honoring fellow goalies-but there was nothing usual about tonight. Tonight his little sister was going to a high school dance with a guy who had his nose pierced.
Luc grabbed his watch from his bedside table and slipped it on his wrist as he made his way to Marie’s room. He wasn’t about to leave until her date appeared for her. He knew what went on in the minds of teen boys, and he planned to look this Zack over and let the kid know that he’d be home when Marie returned, waiting up for her. He had to be here to shake Zack’s hand a little too hard, give him the don’t-mess-with-my-sister stare, and put some fear into him. Luc might not be a great brother-in fact, he wasn’t anywhere near great-but he would protect Marie as long as she was with him.
He’d decided to put off any discussion of boarding school until sometime after the dance. She’d had so much fun picking out her dress and shoes, it just hadn’t seemed like the right time to talk about it.
Luc knocked on Marie’s door, and when she mumbled a reply he entered the room. He expected to see her in the black velvet dress with the square neck, puffy sleeves, and little pink roses sewn on it. She’d shown him the dress the other day, and he’d thought it real sweet for a girl her age. Instead of being dressed, though, she lay on top of her bed wearing her pajamas. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she’d been crying.
“Why aren’t you getting ready? Your date’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
“No, he’s not. He called and canceled last night.”
“Is he sick?”
“He said he forgot that he has to do something with his family and can’t take me. But that’s a lie. He has a girlfriend now and he’s taking her.”
Something white and hot flashed behind his eyes. Something that clenched his jaw and tightened his hands into fists. No one stood up his sister and made her cry. “He can’t do that.” Luc moved farther into the room and looked down at Marie. “Where does he live? I’ll go talk to him. I’ll make him take you.”
“No,” she gasped, mortified, and sat up on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide as she gazed up at Luc. “That’s so embarrassing!”
“Okay, I won’t make him take you.” She was right. Being forced would embarrass her. “I’ll just go over there and kick his ass.”
Her dark brow rose almost to her hairline. “He’s a minor.”
“Good point. Well, I’ll kick his dad’s ass. Anyone who raises his son to stand a girl up deserves to get his ass kicked just on principle.” Luc was serious, but for some reason, that got a smile out of Marie.
“You’d kick Mr. Anderson’s ass for me?”
“I meant butt. Not ass. And of course I would.” He sat next to his sister. “And if I couldn’t get the job done, I know a few hockey players who would feed him his lunch.”
“That’s true.”
He took her hand and studied her stubby fingernails. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d called and canceled?”
She looked away. “I didn’t think you’d really care.”
With his free hand, he brought her gaze back to his. “How can you say that? Of course I care. You’re my sister.”
She shrugged. “I just didn’t think you cared about stuff like dances.”
“Well, you might be right. I don’t care that much about dances and dancing. I never went to any dances at my school because…” He paused and hit her arm with his elbow. “I can’t dance worth a damn. But I care about you.”
One corner of her mouth turned down as if she didn’t believe him.
“You’re my sister,” he said again, as if there were nothing else to explain. “I told you I’d always take care of you.”
“I know.” She looked at her lap. “But taking care of and caring about aren’t the same thing.”
“They are to me, Marie. I don’t take care of people I don’t care about.”
She pulled her hand from his and stood. She moved across the room to a dresser with a pile of bracelets, stuffed bears, and four dried roses on top. Luc knew the white roses had come from her mother’s casket. He didn’t know why she’d taken them or why she kept them now, especially when they made her cry.
“I know you want to send me away,” she said with her back to him.
Oh, boy. He didn’t know how she’d found out, but he supposed that wasn’t important. “I’ve been thinking that you might be happier living with girls your own age instead of me.”
“Don’t lie, Luc. You want to get rid of me.”
Did he? Was getting rid of her so he could go back to his life his major motivation for looking at boarding schools? Maybe a little more than he’d like to admit to himself. Guilt he could no longer ignore squeezed the back of his neck as he stood and walked toward his sister. “I won’t lie to you.” He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “The truth is, I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know anything about teenage girls, but I know you’re unhappy. I want to make it better for you, but I don’t know how.”
“I’m unhappy because my mom died,” she said in a small voice. “And nobody and nothing can make that better.”
“I know.”
“And no one wants me.”
> “Hey.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I want you and you know Aunt Jenny wants you.” Actually, Jenny only wanted Marie to “visit summers,” but Marie didn’t need to know that. “In fact, she threatened to take me to family court to demand custody. I think she had visions of the two of you wearing matching housecoats.”
Marie’s nose wrinkled. “How come I never heard of that?”
“At the time, you had enough worries,” he evaded. “I have more money than Aunt Jenny if it came to a court battle, so she backed down.”
Marie frowned. “Jenny lives in a retirement village.”
“Yeah, but look on the bright side. She’d make you her special prune pudding every night.”
“Blech!”
Luc smiled and pulled back the cuff of his shirt to look at his watch. The banquet was just about to start. “I’ve got to get going,” he said, but couldn’t quite bring himself to actually leave her alone. “Why don’t you put on your new dress and come with me?”
“Where?”
“To a banquet at the Space Needle.”
“With old people?”
“Not that old. It’ll be fun.”
“Don’t you have to go right now?”
“I’ll wait for you.”
She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Come on. The press will be there, and maybe you’ll get your picture in the paper looking so good, old Zack will kick his own ass.”
She laughed. “You mean butt.”
“Right. Butt.” He pushed her toward her closet. “Get your butt in gear,” he said as he left the room and shut the door behind him. He grabbed his tuxedo jacket and moved into the living room to wait. He shrugged into the four-button jacket and hoped Marie shook her tailfeathers, but, typical of all females he’d ever known, she took her time getting ready.
He stood in front of the eight-foot windows and looked out at the city. The rain had stopped, but drops still clung to the glass and smeared the glittering image of Seattle at night, of the towering high-rise buildings and Elliott Bay beyond. He’d purchased this apartment for the view alone, and if he walked through either the kitchen or his bedroom doors on the other side of the apartment, he’d be on the balcony, which had a perfect view of the Space Needle and north Seattle.
Looking out the numerous windows was spectacular, but Luc had to admit that the condo had never really come to feel like home to him. Perhaps because of the modern architecture, or maybe because he’d never lived on top of a city before and it felt a bit like living in a hotel. If he opened the windows or stood out on the balcony, the sounds of cars and buses floated up to the nineteenth floor and reminded him of a hotel too. Even though he was beginning to like Seattle and everything it had to offer, sometimes he had a vague antsy feeling to go home.
When Marie finally emerged from her bedroom, she wore a little rhinestone necklace and a matching headband holding the curls back from her face. Her hair was cute, but the dress-the dress looked awful on her. About two sizes too small. The black velvet fit too tight across her breasts and behind and the small sleeves cut into her arms. Even though Marie usually wore big T-shirts and sweatshirts, he knew she wasn’t fat. But that dress made her look like a chunkster.
“How do I look?” she asked as she turned in a circle for him.
The seam running up the back of the dress pulled to the left across her behind. “You look beautiful.” And above the shoulders, she did look good. Her silver eye shadow was a little strange, though, sparkly like the kind of glitter he’d used in grade school.
“What size is that dress?” Luc asked, and by the look she gave him he immediately realized his mistake. He knew better than to ask a woman her dress size. But Marie wasn’t a woman. She was a girl and she was his sister.
“Why?”
He helped her on with her wool peacoat. “You always wear big shirts and pants, and I don’t know what size you wear,” he improvised.
“Oh, it’s a zero. Can you believe I fit into a size zero?”
“No. A zero isn’t even a size. And if you are a zero, you should fatten up, maybe eat some mashed potatoes and gravy. Chase it down with some whipped cream.” She laughed, but he wasn’t joking.
They left for the short drive to the Space Needle, and by the time he turned the keys of his Land Cruiser over to the valet, they were more than an hour late. The Skyline level of the needle was perched at the one-hundred-foot mark within the structure. The SkyLine had a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree panoramic view of the city, and Luc and Marie arrived just in time for the serious partying. Stepping off the elevator, they hit a wall of noise, the combination of hundreds of voices, the clatter of dishes being cleared, and the three-piece band tuning their instruments. A sea of black tuxedos and bright dresses mixed and mingled within the dimly lit room. Luc had been here before. Not this location, not this occasion, but at a hundred or so other banquets he’d attended since signing to play in the NHL.
As Luc checked Marie’s coat, he spotted Sutter, Fish, and Grizzell and introduced Marie to his teammates. They asked her about school, and the more they spoke to her, the more she slid behind Luc, until only about half of her showed. He didn’t know if she was intimidated or shy.
“Have you seen Sharky?” Fish asked.
“Jane? No, I haven’t seen her. Why?”
He raised his beer and shrugged.
“Where is she?”
Fish lifted his finger from his glass and pointed to a woman several feet away with her back to Luc. She had short dark curls about her head. A deep red halter dress plunged to the small of her back, and a slim gold chain hung between her shoulder blades, catching the light and scattering gold across her white skin. The dress fit loose about her hips and behind and fell to her calves. On her feet she wore a pair of shiny red shoes with about three-inch heels. She stood talking to two other women. One he recognized as Hugh Miner’s wife, Mae. He’d last seen her in September when she’d been about nine months pregnant. The other woman looked vaguely familiar and he wondered if he’d seen her in Playboy. None of the women looked like Jane.
“Who’s the woman in black?” he asked, referring to the centerfold.
“That’s Kowalsky’s wife.”
He turned his attention back to his teammates. Now he knew why she looked familiar. A photograph of her and John hung on the wall in Coach Nystrom’s office. “Kowalsky’s here?” John Kowalsky was a hockey legend and had been the Chi-nooks’ captain until his retirement. Kowalsky had not only dominated with his size, but his slap shot had been clocked at over a hundred miles an hour. There wasn’t a goalie alive who’d wanted to see “the Wall” coming at him.
Luc glanced about the room until he saw Hugh and John standing within a group of front-office management. They all laughed about something, and Luc’s attention returned to the woman in red. He ran his gaze up her smooth spine and neck to the dark curls on her head. Fish was mistaken. Jane wore black or gray and had shoulder-length hair.
Luc reached for the top button closing his jacket as Darby Hogue approached the woman and said something next to her ear. She turned in profile and Luc’s hand froze. The archangel of gloom and doom wasn’t wearing black tonight, and she’d cut her hair.
“There’s someone else I want you to meet,” he said to Marie. They wove their way through the guests but were stopped by Bekah Brummet, a five-ten beauty queen and sometime friend. He’d met her at a fund-raiser last summer, and within hours he’d discovered three things about her. She liked white wine, men with money, and was a natural blonde. He hadn’t seen her since Marie had come to live with him.
He quickly introduced the two, and returned his gaze to Jane. She laughed at something Darby said, and Luc couldn’t imagine the little weasel saying anything remotely funny.
“I haven’t seen you for a while,” Bekah said and pulled his attention to her. She looked as gorgeous as always in a silky little dress that exposed her deep cleavage. There’d been a lot of Bekahs in his life. Beautiful
women who wanted to be with him because he was Luc Martineau, notorious goalie. Some of them had become friends, others had not. He’d never minded taking advantage of what they’d been only too happy to give him. But he was standing next to his sister, who was in a dress that didn’t fit while she tried to disappear behind him, and he didn’t want her exposed to that part of his life.
“I’m out of town a lot.” He placed his hand in the small of Marie’s back. “It was good to see you,” he said and left Bekah looking after him. He propelled his sister away before she could figure out his real relationship with Bekah. He didn’t want Marie to think for one second that casual sex was okay. He wanted her to know that she was worth more than that. And yeah, he knew that made him a hypocrite, and he didn’t care.
“Jane,” he said as he approached. She looked over her shoulder, and a soft curl fell across one eye. She pushed it back and smiled. Her short hair made her look young and so damn cute. He couldn’t help but return her smile. Her new haircut made her green eyes look huge, and she wore makeup that turned them all smoky, sexy. Her lips were painted dark red, his favorite. The heat in the room seemed to rise several degrees and he unbuttoned his jacket.
“Hello, Luc.” Her voice sounded smoky too.
“Martineau,” Darby said.
“Hogue.” With his hand on Marie’s back, he forced her to stay by his side. “This is my date, Marie,” he said, and Jane sent him a look out of the corner of her eye that told him she thought he should be arrested. “Marie is my sister.”
“Ah, then I take back what I was thinking of you.” Jane stuck out her hand and smiled at Marie. “I like your dress. Black is my favorite color.”
Luc figured that was pretty much an understatement.
“Have you met Mae Miner and Georgeanne Kowalsky?” Jane asked and moved to widen the circle to include him and Marie.
Luc turned his attention to Hugh’s wife, a short blonde with big brown eyes and very little makeup. She was one of those natural girls. Like Jane. Except for tonight. Tonight Jane had painted lips. He shook hands with both women, then said, “I met Mae last September.”
See Jane Score Page 12
