Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  "So what?"

  Deep, deep breaths. The image of hauling her over the desk and baring her ass for another good spanking flashed behind his closed lids, but he'd asked for professional. As ill-suited for the job the girl was, she was still the owner. "So he's an asset to the team. I'd considered trading him when it seemed like his ego was causing a rift between the coach and the players, but the fact is he's a good leader. And an asset to the team."

  "But there are other 'good leaders'." Her forehead creased as she bent over the desk, running her finger down a long sheet that contained the team's stats. "Dominik Mason had almost as many goals as he did last season. And he's a defenseman. Why not just make him Captain?"

  "Have you checked his penalty minutes? He's got a temper and makes a damn fine enforcer, but unless we want the whole team to turn into a bunch of thugs, a leadership role is out of the question." Dean rolled his shoulders and gave her a tight smile. "Admit it. You want to get rid of Callahan because you don't like him."

  "Why should I? He's an asshole." Her bottom lip stuck out. "Shouldn't I like my players?"

  "You should want your players to win and leave your personal opinion of them aside." He rolled his eyes. "And what you just said sounds pretty silly considering you've contracted Scott Demyan."

  "What's wrong with Scott?"

  It irked him that she used his name so casually, but he pressed on. "Demyan recently claimed the spot of the most hated player in the league. He's a PR nightmare. His exploits constantly make headlines. He's been charged for solicitation five times since he went pro."

  "And?"

  "And he won't fit with the team. Everyone on our roster wants to prove themselves. To live up to fan expectations." Tension settled in the center of his brow at her stubborn look and he did his best to rub it away. "This team is floundering. It took years to convince the league we could support a franchise in the Maritimes. If we don't get attendance up, the team will be shipped to somewhere like Vegas. This wasn't a good investment for your father, but he believed in it enough to put his entire capital on the line. He trusted me to make something of this team. Can you trust me to do the same?"

  Her expression softened and her eyes lit up. "Oh, Dean. I'm not questioning you. I just want to do everything I can to live out Daddy's dreams. You understand that, right?"

  Now they were getting somewhere. He could work with this. Granted, she'd messed up, but she'd been dumped into a role she wasn't equipped for. "I understand."

  "Good." She grinned. "So, where are we sending Sloan?"

  The question caught him off guard. Hadn't she heard a word he'd said? He placed his hands over hers and met her steady gaze without blinking. "We're not sending him anywhere."

  "Yes we are." She jerked her hands free. "Make it happen, Dean, or I will replace you."

  His brows shot up. "Will you?"

  "Yes, I will." She fiddled with her papers, all business once again. She put on a good act anyway, but he noted the tremor in her hands. "I'm not a puppet. Get used to it. I will have a say in how this team is run. My father chose me for a reason. You don't have to like it, but you will do things my way."

  Holding back his laugh took every ounce of control in his being, but he managed. As he stood, he straightened his tie and gave her a curt nod. "Thank you for making that clear."

  "You're welcome." Her nose wrinkled. "About last night . . . ."

  His went still. "What about it?"

  "I hope you know it was just a onetime thing." She frowned at her desk, as though it had denied her the right words. "I'm not usually like that . . . but as you pointed out, I've never seriously gotten into 'the lifestyle'."

  "That was pretty obvious to everyone in attendance," he said. "Have you heard from you sister?"

  "Of course I haven't heard from her. She's still on her honeymoon . . . ." Silver chewed on her bottom lip. "I'm sure we'll talk when she gets back. I'm a little surprised she didn't call me after what happened though . . . ."

  "Why do you think that is?"

  "I don't know."

  "Bullshit." Dean smiled. He'd already taken off the kid gloves. Silver didn't need them. "Oriana is a submissive through and through. You made a spectacle of yourself. She may wonder if you wanted the attention."

  "I didn't!" Her defensive posture had his protective instincts sitting up, but her next words shoveled them under disgust. "I exposed Sloan for the sick freak he is. She's just not ready to face it."

  "Sick freak? Sloan gave your sister exactly what she needed."

  "Says you."

  "Yes, says me." His lips curled away from his teeth. "I proved last night how capable I am at reading a submissive's needs."

  "You're so fucking full of yourself. You had a hard dick. That's all I needed."

  "Apparently that's all you ever need."

  Silver sucked her teeth and nodded. "Yeah, well, how about we just forget it ever happened."

  "I plan to."

  "Good!" She stood and pointed at the door, shaking so hard her teeth chattered as she spoke. "Now get out of my fucking office!"

  "Gladly." He stormed out and slammed the door behind him. The echoing bang! reverberated in his bones as he strode towards the elevator. Silver's sob slammed into his gut.

  She's feeling sorry for herself. Don't worry about it.

  He knew it was true, but still, something inside urged him to go back and comfort her. He'd been cruel.

  His legs locked as the elevator chimed. He reminded himself of the folder on her desk. One of his men needed him to stop her from messing up his career and his life on a whim. She neither wanted, nor needed his help.

  Asher stepped off the elevator with his arms full of take out bags and drinks. Dean forced himself to step inside.

  She's got everything she wants. Men. Money. He cracked his neck and glared at the doors as they slid shut. She's not getting my team.

  * * * *

  Landon wiped the sweat from his face with a towel, holding his cell phone to his ear with his slippery palm. Training had his pulse thumping, but it seemed to pound a little harder as the phone rang. Silver probably wouldn't answer. Who knew how many guys she gave her number out to? And she'd disappeared with Richter—

  "Hello?"

  "Hey!" He glared at a man who'd rolled up a towel, looking ready to whip it at him. The man held up his hands and shuffled away to torment the younger rookies. "It's Landon—the guy who brought you the blanket?"

  "I remember." Her tone sounded tight. She was probably busy and wondering why he was wasting her time. "What's up?"

  Moving away from where most of the team huddled around the refreshment table, making all kinds of noise about how this was the year they'd claim The Cup, he did his best to keep his tone casual. "Not much. Just wanted to see how you were doing."

  "Oh." The line went quiet. "That was nice of you."

  Yep, that's me. All kinds of nice. She probably thought he was a loser. But . . . hell, he really needed to know that she was okay. And if she needed a friend as much as she'd let off last night. Seriously? You're good with the friend label?

  Took him less than a second to answer himself. Absolutely.

  "Listen. I've got an hour to chill before getting back on the ice. I was wondering . . . ." He hated how unsure he sounded. He could maintain complete control between the pipes, in a scene, in every other aspect of his life. But this was something new. He'd never been friends with a girl. "Do you want to have lunch? Or maybe we can have drinks later?"

  She let out a curt laugh. "If you want to fuck me, Landon, you don't need to try so hard. I'm easy. Ask anyone."

  He almost dropped the phone. "What?"

  "Where and when?"

  Is she serious? He could honestly say he'd never been less aroused in his life. "Look. I don't know if I gave you the wrong impression—"

  "Are you gay?"

  Holy shit! Really? "This was a mistake. I'm sorry I called."

  His finger was on the 'end' button when s
he spoke. "Wait! Please, please don't hang up!"

  He put the phone to his ear, waiting.

  "Are you still there?" Her tone sounded small, desperate. "Landon?"

  "I'm here."

  "I'm sorry. You must think I'm a real bitch." Her exhale came loud and staticky through the phone. "I'd love to have lunch. Can you come pick me up?"

  "I don't know if that's a good idea." He pressed his eyes shut, ignoring the shouts from the players speculating about 'The Honeymoon'. Maybe he'd been wrong about the girl. He was new here. There was a lot he didn't know. "I don't say shit I don't mean. You said you needed a friend. If you don't—"

  "I do!" Her voice hitched. "More now than ever. If you meant it—"

  "I meant it."

  She sighed. "Good. Then please, come get me. Without a friend, right now, I might lose my mind."

  "Where are you?" His pulse quickened. Something in her words made him nervous. She'd done her best to pass them off as light, but she meant them. Something had happened. The girl was going to snap. He dressed in street clothes and kept talking. "I don't get how people think you're easy if you make it this hard on your friends to ask you to hang out."

  "I don't . . . ." She swallowed audibly. "I don't have any friends."

  "Then what does that make me?" Keep talking, sweetie. He elbowed past the crowd blocking the door and ignored the reporters. I'm on my way. "Do you not want friends?"

  She laughed. "Are you for real? Who doesn't want friends?"

  "Hold that thought, buddy." He grinned and fished his keys from his jean pocket. "You might want to rethink that after we hang out a few times. I like playing darts and I'm a sore loser. We'll get along better if you're not any good."

  "I've never played darts."

  "Well, I'll teach you." He slid into the front seat of his rented jeep and started it up. "But you've got to promise me one thing."

  Giggling, which made him feel much better, she asked, "What's that?"

  "If you get better than me, you'll still let me win. I wasn't kidding when I said I was a sore loser."

  "You've got it!" She laughed. "But you explain it to my victims when I shoot wide."

  "Hey." He hooked his cell up to his Bluetooth and maneuvered out of the parking lot. "What are friends for? I'll distract them while you slip out."

  "Sounds good." She paused. "Shit, I never told you where to pick me up!"

  "Then tell me!"

  "I'm at the forum." Poor girl sounded so lost. "And I'm in way over my head."

  "I got that." He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Get out of there. Meet me outside."

  Chapter Five

  Silver almost felt guilty about leaving Asher after he'd gone out and gotten all her favorite foods, but the guilt couldn't stand up to her anger. She drained half a flask of rum, stuffed it in her purse, and fished out a cherry Tootsie Pop as the elevator descended. Sugar, caffeine, and liquor mixed together made her jittery, yet kinda mellow, almost the perfect balance. There were other things that could give her a better fix, but she wasn't going there ever again.

  As she made her way across the main floor, her resolve weakened. The cold dismissal from Dean had hit her hard. Not that she'd ever consider fooling around with him now that she'd gotten him out of her system—Have you? Really?— but damn it, she hadn't expected him to react the way he had. The team mattered more to him than she did.

  Get over it. It's not like you've never felt this way before. She realized she'd worked her hand into her purse to cup the tiny vial in her palm like a cherished memento. Jerking her hand out, she clipped the purse shut. You don't need his approval. Or anything else from him. You just need him to accept that you're in charge.

  Still, that weak, needy part of her she usually ignored refused to shut up. Not because of Dean—forget him!—but because of Asher. More and more often he showed, in little ways, that she wasn't all that important to him. He loved Cedric, and she wanted to believe he loved her too, but . . . hell, she might as well admit it. He didn't. So where did that leave her?

  Alone. Her sister hadn't answered the one concerned call she'd made. Her father wouldn't want to hear about her 'drama'.

  Her simple, five inch heels clipped briskly on the marble tiles. The points found a wide gap and she stumbled. Dropping to one knee, she glanced around to see if anyone had witnessed her humiliation. The security guard pointedly focused on his newspaper. Not one person passing even paused.

  I might as well be invisible.

  A few years ago she would have screamed to get someone's attention. Would have bitched about the tiles and demanded they be fixed immediately. People would have scurried around, ready to cater to her every whim . . .

  But she didn't make a sound. She stood and straightened her pants, wincing at the dull throb in her knee. Limping, she made her way to the door, her vision warped by tears. The cool outside air smacked her face as she pushed it open.

  A big hand smacked the door over her head. A wall of muscle in a snug grey t-shirt and faded jeans blocked her path. Before she could react, Landon spoke, his deep, gruff voice softened around the edges by his accent. "Hey. You all right?"

  Doing her best to stand up straight, she nodded. "I just tripped. My pride hurts worse than anything else."

  He curved his hand under her elbow and guided her past the doors, helping her lean against the wall before crouching down. "I'm not surprised, but I'd like to take a look anyway." His light grey eyes met hers as he curved his fingers under one pant leg. "Do you mind?"

  "No. Go ahead." She pressed her eyes shut as he gently rolled her pant leg over her knee and sucked in a breath as the material peeled away from broken flesh. His freshly-showered scent hit her like a gust of wind rising from a summer rain. His calloused fingers brushing alongside the wound distracted her from the pain. Distracted her a little too much. She smirked, sure it was intentional. "Like what you see?"

  "Not at all. Torn flesh and blood just isn't my thing. I'm a breast man, myself." He straightened and grinned at her. His grin turned to a frown when she evaded his gaze. "Did I say something wrong?"

  She sniffled, hating that she couldn't pull it together. A breast man? Just great. All she seemed to hear lately was that no one wanted her. "I have tiny boobs."

  "I would argue that, considering I've seen them." Landon winked and she couldn't help but let out a watery giggle. "But right now all I'm thinking about is patching you up. You won't take offense if I tell you the only thing I want to put on you is a Band-Aid, will you? I've got some good lines to practice on you after if you want."

  "Really?" She allowed him wrap to his arm around her shoulders, encasing her securely against his solid body. Such a big, hot—very hot—man. She peeked up at his face. His smile was playful, without a hint of lust. She wasn't sure whether she should be disappointed or not. He did want to practice lines on her after all. "I'm pretty sure I've heard them all."

  "Damn." He led her to a jeep and held the door open as she climbed in. "So is 'Any more than a mouthful' lame? Could you help me come up with new material?"

  "Why would you bother asking? I—" She cut herself off. He almost hung up on you about twenty minutes ago for suggesting he wanted to fuck you. Don't go there. He'd been insulted. He was the only person being nice to her. Time to attempt her first normal conversation with a man she wasn't related to. "Yeah. It is kinda lame. You want some friendly advice? Don't comment on breasts when you're with a woman with small ones. Not until you've got her naked. At that point, worshiping them works."

  "So if she's got massive hooters I should remark on them at once?"

  "Only if you wanna get slapped."

  His deep laugh sent a warm rush straight through her. "Maybe I'm kinky that way."

  You sure he doesn't want to fuck you?

  How could she be? She didn't think it was possible, but Landon made her forget her suspicions as he quickly cleaned her wound and gently covered it with a large Band-Aid. He kissed the top of her knee i
n a way that seemed so automatic she didn't even try to read anything into it—though her skin tingled where his lips had pressed long after he rolled her pant leg down.

  Damn, it felt . . . nice. Not sexual. Nothing sexual had ever been so tender.

  I really hope he doesn't want to fuck me.

  Music started up the second he turned the key. Before long the upbeat dance tune had her swaying and singing along, tapping her lollypop hand on her knee in time to the beat. They drove for a bit without a word, both enjoying the music. At a stoplight, Landon looked at her with an unreadable smile on his lips.

  "So," He spoke loud over the music. "I hear you're an actress? Is singing part of the job description?"

  She winced. Asher told her all the time that she couldn't carry a note. "Depends. If I started younger, maybe, but most of my parts didn't involve much more than a willingness to show a bit of skin."

  His brow shot up. "You're not a porn star are you?" He held up a hand before she could come up with a biting response. "Don't take it the wrong way, but I have an unhealthy addiction to pornos, and I would remember you."

  Heat spread over her cheeks. "Are you serious?"

  He snorted. "No. Do I look like some kind of perv?"

  At that point, she really couldn't say one way or another. But if he was a perv, he was a cut above the rest. He'd passed the fifteen minute mark without leering and groping. Which earned him some serious brownie points.

  She stuck her lollipop in her mouth and sucked hard. Then shifted it to one side of her mouth. "Why the question then?" She crunched on what was left of the candy and dropped the stick in the empty ashtray. "Not that I'm all that surprised, but why even mention porn star?"

  "You brought up showing skin." He shrugged. "You've got a nice voice. I think you sold yourself short."

  Oh, he's so full of shit! She shook her head and smiled. "I do not. But you're sweet to say so."

  "I get the impression that you don't believe me." He eased the jeep into a space on a grungy, low-end shopping district street and shifted into park. "Me and you are gonna do Karaoke one day. Maybe you'll believe the drunken, cheering crowd."