Going for the Goal

by Sara Rider

  When the last aftershock of ecstasy rippled through his body, he rolled to the side, careful not to crush her beneath him. She turned toward him, almost catlike in the way she curled into his chest with a contented sigh. He wrapped an arm around her, stroking the small bumps along her spine. She’d opened another layer to him tonight, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

  Jillian justified sneaking out of bed after Nick had fallen asleep to run a bath in his palatial en suite bathroom by telling herself it was his fault her inner thighs ached too much for her to sleep. Of course, her overly analytical mind reminded her that she had been the one begging him to take her that way. Or maybe the truth was that she couldn’t pass up the chance to indulge in the luxurious oval tub with Jacuzzi jets the moment she tiptoed into the bathroom to hunt for a spare toothbrush or mouthwash. She hadn’t gotten the chance for a good soak since the last time she spent the night here, almost two months ago.

  Unfortunately, Ben hadn’t been lying back then when he told her Nick’s personal selection of bath products was limited to a bar of Irish Spring. She’d borrowed his T-shirt from where it lay discarded on the floor and snuck down to the main floor to steal some orange-verbena-scented bubble bath from the guest bathroom. She would’ve preferred to coat herself in the rich, masculine scent imbued in Nick’s cotton T-shirt, but she knew there wasn’t a fragrance maker alive who could replicate that kind of raw perfection.

  She’d grabbed her phone on the way back up, too, figuring it’d be a good time to sneak in some extra work. Nick’s contract issues were eating up a lot of her time, and she needed to make sure her other clients weren’t being ignored.

  And that’s when the real truth hit her. Her heart was tumbling recklessly for Nick. She’d agreed to a dinner date with his friends—a public outing of their relationship. And instead of being frightened by that idea, all she could think about was that waiting three days to see him again seemed so torturous, her skin itched. Which meant she needed to take a step back until her brain could process what was happening. Retreat to somewhere safe where she could think it through. Plan and strategize how to protect them both from the inevitable fallout.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was enveloped in a mountain of fragrant bubbles, plowing through her inbox with rapid efficiency. Solving problems was easy for her. A perfectly crafted email could rectify almost any contract dispute, and a quick call could assuage any ego blocking an important deal.

  But there was nothing she could say that would satisfy Jaime Chen’s insistent request that she find a way to attend the Sport Fitness Awards with her. She’d honestly tried, but there wasn’t a single unclaimed ticket left out there, and there were only so many favors she could call in after selling her soul to earn her colleagues’ votes in the election three weeks from now. Instead of answering Jaime’s email directly, she responded with the details of the dress-fitting appointment she’d arranged with Genevieve, who was more than willing to provide a custom high-end gown in exchange for the popular soccer player’s agreement to promote the brand on her social media.

  She sent that final email off, set her phone down on the ledge, and sank down until the water lapped at her cheeks, finally able to relax properly, reliving the feel of Nick’s hands on her body. The images and sensations were so vivid, she could practically feel his huge hand snaking up her thighs, pressing into her—

  “Oh my god,” she cried, sitting up and clamping her legs shut.

  “I can’t tell if you’re trying to keep my hand where it is or force it away.”

  She brushed the water out of her eyes to see Nick sitting on the ledge wearing nothing but black boxer briefs that clung to his sculpted thighs and a renewed look of desire on his face.

  She parted her legs in response.

  “You should probably tell me now if you’re just using me for my bathtub.”

  “The one in my condo doesn’t come with the same perks.” The last word trailed off into a moan as he sank a finger inside her.

  “Until tonight, I didn’t know mine did, either.”

  She closed her eyes and melted for him, wet and ready despite how raw he’d left her earlier in the evening. Each slow, gentle stroke pulled her closer to the edge.

  And then he stopped. Her eyes flew open in a haze of confusion.

  “Your phone’s ringing,” he said with a smirk. “Guess you were too distracted to notice.”

  “Shit.” She scrambled to answer the call with her wet, slippery hands before she missed it. “Jaime, hi, what’s the matter?”

  “Maybe I should be asking you that. You sound like you’re out of breath.”

  “I was just . . .” Never had she failed so spectacularly to produce a lie on the spot.

  Jaime howled. “You were totally having sex.”

  “No!” Nick’s growling laugh in the background didn’t help her case.

  “I know I’m your favorite client, but I’m not going to be offended if you miss my call once in a while.”

  Embarrassment constricted her lungs, making it hard to speak. “It’s fine. And I wasn’t having sex.” Not in the most technical sense, at least. “What are you calling about anyway?”

  “You didn’t answer my question about the extra ticket, so I’m calling to tell you your not-so-subtle avoidance technique sucks.”

  “I tried. I swear I did everything I could. There’s nothing I want more than to be there with you at the Sport Fitness Awards, but it’s not going to happen.”

  “That really sucks. You deserve to be there, too, but it’s okay. I know you tried.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Nick held his hand out. “Give me the phone.”

  She was so shocked by the bizarre command that she didn’t stop him from grabbing it out of her hand.

  “She’ll be there. Now don’t call back for the next few hours because Jillian’s going to be very busy. Tomorrow morning, too.” He hung up and handed the phone back to her. “I’ve got two tickets sitting on my kitchen counter. You can have one.”

  That last revelation sucked the anger right out of her. “What? How?”

  “One of the agents who was trying to get me to sign with him offered them as an incentive a few months ago. I wasn’t planning on going, but it looks like they’ll come in handy after all.”

  She twisted up to face him, sending water sloshing over the edge of the tub. “Oh my god, this is amazing. Do you know how hard I’ve been looking for a spare ticket?”

  “Well, you can have mine. On one condition.”

  “What?”

  He crouched down, leveling his deep blue eyes with hers. “You go with me. As my date.”

  She swallowed, resistance thickening in her throat. But something else stirred in her, more powerful than her doubt and fear. It was the warmth in her chest and lightness spreading in her limbs at the thought of accepting his help. Letting him be her knight in shining armor. “Okay.”

  “Yeah? You mean it? A real date in public?”

  She couldn’t help but smile at his boyish innocence in that moment. “Yeah. I do.”

  19

  The Primal Man cologne ad was out. If Nick hadn’t seen the giant billboard on his way to the stadium, the abnormally giant crowd of autograph seekers after the game last night would’ve been enough of a giveaway. He almost didn’t recognize himself in the larger-than-life black-and-white photo with the tailored suit, slicked hair, and baby-smooth chin, but he would’ve recognized the woman whose lips were on his neck anywhere. Her hair was Photoshopped darker and her features weren’t visible to the camera, but the elegant curve of her spine was unmistakable.

  Hell, he could tell just from the hungry look in his eyes that it was Jillian.

  The ad, coupled with the fact that he’d just pulled ahead as the top-ranked offensive defenseman in the NHL and he was still wearing a Vipers jersey after the midseason
trade deadline passed last night, should have been a cause for celebration. Instead, it felt like a temporary stay of execution.

  Even though he was getting another chance to make a run at the Cup with a talented team, the locker room dynamics were growing so toxic, he was starting to doubt whether the Vipers would even make it to the play-offs at this point. For now, he was focusing on becoming the best damn third-line defenseman in the league and keeping clear of any shit Liakos was flinging, but that was harder than it sounded. A fight broke out at this morning’s practice because Liakos had hit on a teammate’s girlfriend after last night’s game. It killed Nick not to jump in and break up the scuffle, but Coach Phillips shut it down before any punches were thrown.

  It was starting to feel like he was becoming a very attractive prospect to a lot of teams once again. To everyone but the Vipers. And as long as Liakos continued to be an offensive threat, one of them would be leaving at the end of the season.

  Jillian had texted him last night to say Utah hadn’t picked up Annikov like she’d hoped, leaving Nick more vulnerable to a trade than ever. Until that moment, he hadn’t even realized she was capable of failing.

  But tonight was Luke’s birthday—Nick’s first outing with Jillian as a real couple—and he wasn’t going to think about hockey for the next few hours. He took a quick shower, grabbed his keys, and headed to the parking garage beneath his building.

  His desire to see Jillian again had him practically jogging to his car, but that eagerness was cut short when he spotted a man he didn’t recognize hanging out next to his driver’s-side door.

  The man stepped out from the shadows into a faint strip of light when Nick approached. It wasn’t the first time an overzealous fan had snuck past building security, but this guy didn’t look like a fan. There was no gleam of excitement when they made eye contact. He was older, probably pushing sixty, with ruddy cheeks and a gray suit tailored to fit around his large belly.

  “Mr. Salinger, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man said, seemingly unperturbed by Nick’s hard glare.

  “There a reason you’re loitering by my car like a two-bit criminal?”

  “Yes, and it’s one I’d wager you’ll be more than interested to hear. I’m Lou Parsons.”

  Nick’s shoulders tensed. “Then you’d be wrong. I’ve already got an agent.”

  He marched forward, using every inch of his intimidating size to silently encourage Parsons to get out of his way, but the man didn’t move. “Jillian Nichols. I’m aware. I used to mentor her. I taught her everything she knows. Which is why I know that her strategy for keeping you in New York is bound to fail.”

  “Still not interested.”

  “I’m not here to try to poach you. I’m here as a professional courtesy. Nichols is going to ruin your career and I can tell you why.”

  Nick hesitated, not because he wanted to hear what Parsons had to say but because he needed to tamp down the urge to slam his tightly curled fist into the other man’s face before he got any closer. Parsons seemed like the kind of leech who would threaten to sue if Nick so much as breathed on him the wrong way.

  “I know you want to stay with the Vipers, but selling you as this new sex symbol isn’t going to achieve anything except to help Jillian build her brand. We both know that hockey isn’t about fancy perfumes or promotional appearances. It’s about winning the goddamn Stanley Cup. Nothing else. But here’s the thing: Jillian’s going to make a ton of cash if you sign with the Blizzards. She wins no matter what happens. It doesn’t matter if you lose.”

  “Enough,” Nick growled.

  “I can help. Allan Tyson is an old friend who owes me a big favor. I can absolutely guarantee he’ll extend your contract at the end of the year.” Parsons pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Nick. “And remember, I also have the power to make the opposite happen. You need to decide who you really want on your side.”

  Fury swirled inside him like a brewing storm. If Parsons hadn’t walked away at that moment, things would’ve ended a lot less peacefully. Nick tossed the card onto the ground without even glancing at it, then got into his car.

  Parsons was the worst type of agent out there. Deceptive, dishonest, and dirty. One that made a killing in this business by making the kind of unrealistic promises athletes wanted to hear. And what pissed Nick off the most was that a small, stupid part of him actually believed what that asshole had to say.

  “Do we need to talk about your secret dislike of birthdays? Because I feel like this is something I should know about as your agent and as your . . .” Jillian hesitated for a split second.

  “My girlfriend,” Nick snapped without taking his eyes off the road. “My gorgeous, incredible, brilliant girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend,” she repeated in a whisper, warm tingles shooting like fireworks inside her belly. It still amazed her how he had no inhibitions or insecurity about claiming what he wanted. But he did seem unusually gruff right now, which didn’t help her nerves one bit. She’d learned a long time ago not to care what other people thought of her, but these were Nick’s friends. What if they didn’t like her? Her stomach clenched uncomfortably as she wondered whether he was worried about that, too. “Right. So, are you going to tell me why you’re as tense as a caged lion right now?”

  He removed one hand from the steering wheel and set it on her knee. “Because your legs drive me crazy in these sexy little skirts and it’s fucking killing me that I’m going to have to wait until I can get you naked again.”

  She knew he was deflecting the question, but a flash of heat blazed through her, filling the car with enough steam to suffocate her thoughts. He rubbed small circles along the rough skin on the outer edge of her knee with his thumb. Until that moment, she’d had no idea how erogenous that spot was. “If you want me to make a good impression on your friends, it’s probably not smart to tease me like this. I won’t be able to concentrate all night.”

  “I don’t give a shit what they or anyone else think of you.”

  The edge in his voice surprised her. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, but it doesn’t change the fact I’d rather not have to spend the entire evening wet and aching, with my thighs clenched shut just to keep from exploding.”

  He spared her a quick, dirty look that made it more than clear he’d be okay with torturing her like that.

  She leaned forward and stroked him over the fly of his jeans. He straightened like a jolt of electricity had just shot through his body. “Jesus, woman, are you trying to kill me?”

  “You should know by now I play just as dirty as you do.” She rubbed him a few more times, until his erection strained against his pants. He grabbed her hand and held it captive against the center console for the rest of the drive to Luke’s condo. He even managed to parallel park one-handed into a tight spot, something Jillian wouldn’t have dreamed of trying even with both hands unobstructed.

  They managed to keep their hands off each other for the short elevator ride up to the penthouse, mostly because Nick was carrying two bottles of wine and she had her arms full with the framed set of vintage hockey cards she’d bought Luke as a birthday gift in spite of the fact that Nick insisted it was unnecessary.

  Luke greeted them at the door wearing a T-shirt bearing a photo of him as a cherubic little boy with a birthday hat on his white-blond hair and a face full of chocolate cake. Above the photo were the words “Kiss Me, It’s My Birthday.” “Welcome to my party,” he said with painfully forced enthusiasm as he led them into his apartment.

  “It looks like a party store threw up in here,” Nick whispered. Jillian smacked him lightly in the chest but didn’t disagree that the streamers, balloons, and banners were a touch over-the-top.

  Luke relieved her of the gift and nodded his head toward the Vipers’ goalie, who was nursing a beer on the black leather couch. “I think you know Mike already
.”

  “We’ve met once before,” she said with a smile.

  “My sister, Claire, is in the kitchen making all that racket, and this kid here is Abby, her best friend.”

  The woman Luke gestured to was hardly a kid, but her long brown hair, dark clothes, and black-rimmed glasses suggested she was used to blending in, not standing out. The fact that she looked surprised anyone even noticed her while she was rubbing the bellies of two giant, identical furry dogs solidified Jillian’s impression of her as a wallflower.

  “Lovely to meet you,” she said, offering her hand.

  “Hi.” In spite of her shyness, Abby had a firm, confident handshake.

  Luke ruffled the woman’s hair like she was a toddler. “Fair warning: don’t strike up a conversation with Abby unless you want to feel stupid. She’s moving to New York in the fall to do her PhD in biology.”

  She blushed. “Biochem, actually.” Not that Luke heard. He’d already distracted himself by ushering the two dogs into one of the bedrooms.

  “That’s awesome,” Jillian said, wondering if Luke had any idea how much he’d mortified the poor thing. Or if he’d noticed the way Abby’s eyes widened like saucers when he touched her. “What are you planning to do your thesis on?”

  With a look of relief, Abby broke into a description of cell growth engineering that Jillian couldn’t even begin to comprehend. She smiled and nodded along, putting the other woman at ease while Nick migrated to the couch next to Mike, and Luke pulled out a couple of beers from the small bar fridge next to his TV.

  A blond woman with the same pale blue eyes and wide mouth as Luke burst through the kitchen door with a giant platter of mini quiches in her hands. “Appetizers, anyone?” She set the platter down on the coffee table, giving Jillian a convenient excuse to break away from her conversation with Abby.