For the Captain (The Detroit Pirates Book 1)

by Jenny Redford

  "Did you park out in the VIP lot?"

  She nodded and he smiled before putting his hand on her back again to gently lead her out of his locker room. As they opened the doors to the main hallway, he took her hand again, thankful that she didn't pull it away from him. And when they finally made it to the parking lot, he could barely feel the cold night air on his skin. It was too on fire from this woman who seemed to suddenly have some sort of control over him.

  "This is me," she said, walking over to a black Aston Martin.

  "You really are going for this spy theme, eh?" he asked, leaning up next to her car door.

  "I could never drive a car like this in Manhattan," she lamented. "Another perk of living here, I guess."

  "So dinner? Is sometime this week good for you?"

  "Maybe sometime this week will work," she said.

  He pushed himself off of her car and leaned over, gently kissed her good night, and then lingered in her warm vanilla smell. He finally pulled away, but not far.

  "Good night, Charlotte," he whispered, his lips teasing hers before he finally stood back a bit. "I promise I'll call you."

  "I hope so."

  Jordan held her door open as she climbed in before gently shutting it for her. He turned and headed for his car across the lot, determined not to look back at her again. He didn't want her to think he was desperate. But once he climbed into his own car, he finally allowed himself to take another look at her, this time it was in his rear view mirror as she pulled away. He took a deep breath and put his key in the ignition.

  Charlotte Stone had bewitched him, and there was no going back.

  Chapter 6

  I just drove up, see ya soon

  Charlotte checked the text message again and shoved the phone in her black purse before hurrying out to the elevator. She didn't know why, but she didn't want to keep Jordan waiting. Perhaps it was just the nervousness of going on an actual date with Jordan King, captain of the Detroit Pirates. Or maybe it was the kiss in his locker room two days ago, a kiss she couldn't get out of her mind.

  As she walked out of the elevator into the lobby of her building, she could see him through the glass doors standing next to his SUV in gray dress pants, a button down shirt with a black tie, and a dressy black wool coat. As soon as he saw her, his face changed. It was a smile that she really couldn't describe other than amazing.

  "Good evening, Charlie," Jordan said as he gave her a quick peck on the cheek before opening the car door for her. "I'm sorry about the Land Rover. I don't really mind that it's a bit tall, but I also never climb in with a skirt and heels on."

  "No problem," she said, taking his hand to get into the SUV. And yes, wearing a red pencil skirt and tall black heels wasn't the ideal outfit for this car, but he at least was a gentleman about helping her in.

  He closed the door and jogged around the front of the car to his side, quickly opening his door and climbing in with ease. But as he started it up, some sort of loud guitars came blaring through the speakers, shaking Charlotte's rib cage. Jordan's hand quickly moved to turn the music down.

  "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I usually take some liberties with the radio when it's just me."

  "Quite the sound system."

  "When I want something, I always get the best," he replied with a look that made Charlotte think he wasn't talking about his speakers anymore.

  As he pulled out, he quickly set her at ease by narrating their trip through the city. "That bar is a total dive, but you have to go sometime," or "That's the statue they put a Pirates jersey on every time we make it to the playoffs."

  "So then I'll get to see that this year, right?" she asked.

  He stopped at a red light and looked over at her, his blue eyes sparkling under the city lights. "I hope so. For your sake, of course," he said. "I wouldn't want you to miss that."

  She laughed at his joking tone, knowing exactly what he was implying. He was the captain of the team and while she liked the attention from him and liked being his date this evening, she knew he still had another priority besides her.

  Jordan pulled up to the Renaissance Center, its five towers looming over the waterfront, and Charlotte watched as the valet did a double take before promising to take special care of the car.

  "I'll make sure our best driver handles it, captain."

  Jordan joked around with him before heading inside and Charlotte noticed just how at ease he was with people recognizing him. She'd seen bad behavior from quite a few of the high society types who would often get recognized in New York — or who would get pissed off if they weren't.

  Jordan led them over to a bank of elevators, standing close while still trying to keep a gentlemanly distance from her. But as they got in the elevator to go up, she couldn't help but grab his hand and slip her fingers through his, letting her guard down for just a moment. He didn't seem to mind.

  "So where are you taking me exactly?"

  "Top floor," he explained. "There's this great restaurant up there that just opened a few months ago with an amazing view of the city. I mean, I'm sure it's not like a Manhattan view, but it's still nice."

  She gave him a reassuring smile. "I think it sounds pretty amazing."

  They gave their coats to the maitre d' and followed as she took them to a table in the corner right by the windows. Charlotte couldn't help but look out over the tall buildings and river with the large bridge lit up in the distance.

  "So you're really looking south over to Canada," Jordan said as he pushed her chair in behind her.

  "I actually knew that!" she replied excitedly. "Weird but true facts you learn when you move to Detroit."

  He smiled at her warmly. "Down there is the arena, which you have become familiar with."

  Charlotte peered down to the ground way below them. It seemed so small from here but had been looming large in her life lately.

  "I hope you like this."

  There was a bit of apprehension in his voice that made her feel a warmth inside knowing she had this kind of effect on him.

  "I do," she told him reassuringly. "This is actually really nice."

  The two of them fell into comfortable conversation after their food arrived with Jordan prodding her about how well she had adjusted to her new city that she was starting to think of as home.

  "So how did your family feel about you moving here?"

  "It was a little hard for them to understand," she explained. "My parents, and my mom especially, are big in the New York social scene. So coming here is almost like moving to another planet in their eyes."

  "Then why did you do it?"

  "I got sick of being in New York and the people that I was around, especially when it came to my mom," she explained. "Plus, I needed something new because my writing was getting a bit stale."

  "I thought New York was supposed to be romantic," Jordan said.

  "Oh, it totally is! I was just getting sick of writing about it," she replied. "But your family must be excited to have you play here. I mean, it's a great hockey town."

  Jordan shrugged. "They are. I mean, my brother is."

  She gave him a quizzical look. "What about your parents?"

  He looked down at his food. "My dad died when I was teenager, and my mother took it really hard. I don't think she could handle raising us as a single mom so one day she just left."

  "I'm sorry," Charlotte said.

  "It's OK. I have my brother Ethan. He's been my protector for a long time and the reason I kept playing hockey."

  "So does he live around here?"

  "Yeah, we actually live together." She turned to give him a surprised look. "I know, I know, captain of the hockey team with a roommate."

  "I wasn't going to say anything," she teased.

  "You thought it."

  She smiled. "I did."

  "Don't worry, I've thought it too," Jordan said. "But it's actually nice to be around him. He's my biggest cheerleader and he does our grocery shopping."

  "Oh, you de
finitely should live together then," she said. "I'll have to meet him sometime."

  He rolled his eyes teasingly. "You have no idea how much he would love that."

  After they had their fill of dinner, Jordan insisted they get dessert. It wasn't hard to persuade Charlotte considering she was having a much better time than she had expected.

  "I'm serious when I tell you that you have never had bread pudding as good as it is here," he said, which led to an amazing plate with bread pudding, homemade vanilla ice cream, and two forks.

  "So exactly how did a socialite like you end up a hockey fan?"

  "My father. He's friends with one of the New York Admirals' owners." Hearing herself say those words made her feel pretentious. "What about you?" she added quickly to get the conversation off of her.

  "My dad was Swedish and moved to Canada, where he met my mother. 'You're Swedish and Canadian, hockey is in your blood,' he used to say. So he made sure Ethan and I both learned how to play hockey and cook Swedish meatballs."

  Charlotte gave him a surprised look. "You cook?"

  "Just Swedish meatballs! And chicken with rice, but that's a necessity as a hockey player."

  "Huh."

  Jordan raised an eyebrow in her direction. "'Huh' what?"

  "I was thinking that Swedish meatballs do sound delicious," she said. "You'll just have to make them for me sometime."

  She smiled and took a bite of dessert, letting her fork linger when she caught Jordan staring at her lips. He looked a bit like he was ready for some other dessert, which gave her a bit of a thrill. It didn't take much to charm a man, but there was something exciting about being able to charm this man in particular.

  Then Jordan saw something over her shoulder and he looked down at the table, the heat in his smile replaced by something a little colder.

  "Sorry, but there's a group of fans headed this way," he said quietly. "I'll just sign a few autographs and get them moving again."

  Charlotte smiled, not really believing that he was so apologetic about some fans. "It's fine," she said. "Even I know how much everyone loves you in this city."

  He looked up at her. "Everyone, Charlotte?" he asked.

  She realized what she had implied, and it was her turn to gaze down at the table.

  "Hello, ladies!" Jordan said cheerfully as the group approached the table.

  "Hi," one said curtly, which seemed a little odd for someone who was a fan.

  "Excuse me, are you Charlotte Stone?"

  She looked up to see four women standing next to their table with copies of Charlotte's book Harper's Fair in their hands, and a slow smile began to creep across her face. They weren't Jordan's fans. They were hers.

  "Yeah, that's me."

  The women started giggling with excitement. "We love your writing!" one of them said. "We decided to have our book club here tonight so we could have a fancy dinner in the city like Harper."

  "Do you think you can sign our books?" another asked as they all flashed their copies.

  This would happen to her on occasion in New York, which is why she always carried a pen with her. But it was the first time anyone in Detroit had asked her to sign anything and she was totally not prepared.

  "Do you need a pen, Charlotte?"

  She turned to see Jordan with a big smile on his face, sticking his hand into his back pocket and pulling out a fancy black-enameled Mont Blanc pen.

  "Thanks." She grabbed it, a flash of electricity shooting up her arm as her fingers grazed his. "Where would you like me to sign, ladies?"

  They all opened their books up, each asking for it to be addressed to them. One even gushed, "I can't wait for the sequel!"

  "Don't worry, it's coming," Charlotte replied cheerfully, knowing exactly how to play her crowd.

  The women continued to talk with excitement and tell Charlotte their favorite part of the book or the cocktails they ordered that night based on what they thought Harper would like.

  "Um, I know we've taken up a lot of your time already, but could we get a picture with you too?" one of the women asked.

  "You can't say 'no' to that," Jordan said as he stood up and walked over to the women. "Which one of you has a camera I can use?"

  "Oh, here's my phone," one of them said, handing it to him.

  They all crowded around Charlotte, one even taking the seat Jordan had vacated. "Smile, lovely ladies!" he instructed as he took the photo. The group did as he told them before handing the phone back to the woman in charge. "I hope it turned out OK."

  "Oh, it totally did!" she said. "Thank you so much."

  The women repeated a few more thank yous and finally turned to walk away.

  "Who was that guy with her?" she could hear one mutter when they thought they were out of earshot.

  "Jordan King. He's my daughter's favorite player on the Pirates. She thinks he's hot."

  "She's totally right."

  Charlotte picked up her fork and turned to find Jordan had taken his place next to her again, a goofy smile on his face as he grabbed his napkin from the table.

  "Sorry about that," she said quietly. "And thank you for being so nice to them."

  "No problem at all," he said with a bit of pride in his voice. She couldn't tell if he was proud of the compliment or proud of her. "And never be sorry for that. I thought it was pretty cool to see you with them."

  "Really?"

  "Charlie, I'm a hockey player in Detroit. I get recognized all the time," he explained. "I find how a person treats their fans says a lot about who they really are."

  "So what did that say about me?" she asked as she took a bite of vanilla ice cream.

  "You're happy when you're around people who are genuine, and you're happy to share your talent with people." He reached out and grabbed her hand, his thumb grazing her skin as he drew small circles on the top of her hand. He looked intently at her, practically drowning her in the blue of his eyes. "I know you can tell when people aren't being genuine with you. So let me tell you that I've honestly had a wonderful time so far tonight."

  "So far?"

  He smirked. "How about we pay the check and get out of here?"

  Jordan was a gentleman when he paid for their dinner and a gentleman when he helped her back in the car and a gentleman when he parked in the underground guest parking for her building before helping her out. Perhaps that was why she had felt so at ease with inviting him up.

  Until she got in the elevator. Her heart was pounding and she was doing everything she could to keep her breathing calm. Jordan had taken her hand as soon as they got in, and she was worried she may be holding on too tight. Her hand was thankfully steady as she put her key in the lock for her penthouse, and she quietly applauded herself for taking the time to clean the place up earlier in the day just in case.

  "You can just throw your coat over the chair there," she said, motioning to the black leather seat in her living room. "Would you like something to drink?"

  "Sure," he said casually. "Anything in particular?"

  She smiled as she shed her own coat and laid it next to his. "The new thing in Manhattan this year has been high-end bourbon if that's good."

  "Yeah, that's good."

  He seemed a bit surprised by her bold choice, but in a good way. Charlotte smirked and seductively walked into the kitchen, leaving Jordan to stand and watch her sway her hips a little more than what was needed. She pulled out two tumblers from the cupboard and grabbed her favorite bottle of bourbon, pouring two glasses that she carried back to the living room. Jordan had loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt before casually sitting on her sofa, and something inside of her wanted to take advantage of him right there. Instead, she took a deep breath to calm herself.

  "Thank you," he said. "To an amazing third date." He raised his glass in a salute to her and took a sip, his face clearly showing that he enjoyed it.

  "Third date?" she asked as she sat down next to him.

  He looked as if she had caught him
trying to slip a secret past her, but he recovered quickly with a knowing smirk on his face. "Well, the first was dinner at your place."

  "It was a charity dinner and there were other people here."

  "There was food so still a date," he said, lifting his index finger from his glass to point at her for extra emphasis. "Second date was skating at the arena."

  "Again, other people were there."

  He gave her a knowing smirk. "I spent 15 very uncomfortable minutes today talking to the media crowded around my locker, if you know what I mean."

  "What do you mean?" she asked teasingly.

  His eyes flicked down to her mouth for just a moment. "I was only wearing a towel and thinking about your lips," he said. "There was a lot of readjusting."

  "I got it." Charlotte smirked. "So this is the third date?"

  Jordan stared at her with a bit of a mischievous look in his blue eyes. "You're not rethinking your invitation, are you?"

  "No!" she said a little too loudly. "No, I'm not. I just..." He looked at her curiously. "I've just heard about you and your lady friends, so to speak."

  He scoffed. "My lady friends."

  "There's nothing wrong with that and I don't mind if — well, I mean I do, but um..." She took a deep breath to stop herself from saying something stupid. "I just want to know what I'm getting myself into."

  There was a part of her that hoped he would just gloss over the answer, that this was just casual to him. It would be easy for her to acknowledge the lust she had for him before she got in too deep and he broke her heart. But then the nagging voice in her head kept hoping there could be something more.

  Jordan took another drink from his glass before running his free hand through his hair. "You're not the only one who's trying to do something new with their life, Charlotte. Not that you're my experiment," he added quickly. "I guess I'm hoping I can have more with you than my other friends."

  His extra emphasis on that last word forced Charlotte to take another swig from her glass, covering the smile that she was trying to keep in check. She could tell it wasn't enough based on the smirk on Jordan's face as he finished his bourbon. The glass made a soft clink as he set it down on her coffee table, showing off his forearms below his rolled up sleeves.