Maybe This Love

by Jennifer Snow

  Her gaze landed on the picture of Ben. Had they met under different circumstances…She shook her head.

  Had they met under different circumstances, she might be stupid enough to fall prey to his appeal like so many other women. Pregnancy or not, divorce case or not, Ben Westmore would be a bad decision, a huge mistake.

  Sticking to her no-athlete rule had served her heart well so far.

  The door opened and Dr. Chelsey entered. “Sorry to keep you waiting. How are you feeling?” He snapped on new examining gloves and sat on the stool at the end of the bed.

  “I’m good.” She was. So why didn’t that sound convincing?

  He smiled. “It’s natural to feel nervous. Do you have any other questions for me before we begin?”

  Yeah, compared to fish and guinea pigs, how hard were children to raise?

  She shook her head as a nurse entered the room to start the IV. “I’m ready.” Her body trembled slightly and tiny goose bumps surfaced on her bare legs and arms.

  Damn, why was she so nervous?

  “Wait,” she said quickly as the nurse approached with the anesthesia meds strong enough to knock her out. For what, she still wasn’t sure. She wasn’t afraid of needles. She didn’t fear the sedation. So why was she still hesitating?

  “What are we waiting for?” the doctor asked gently, and she caught his meaning. She’d already told him how much she wanted this. She’d given it more than enough thought, and it still wasn’t the last opportunity to back out.

  So, what were they waiting for? Her gaze flew to the magazine on the chair once again and the image of the happy, newly married couple—however fake—made her stomach knot. Was it really too late to have a child a different way? She was only thirty-six…she could meet someone. She could be as happy as that couple in the magazine.

  A couple that was in the middle of a divorce. A man who was in the middle of a divorce.

  She shook off any lingering trace of longing as she lay back against the pillow and extended her arm toward the nurse. “Nothing. I’m ready.”

  * * *

  Low profile was out the window now that his face was plastered all over the tabloids, so it was time to move on to plan B. Social appearances that might help save his image and keep the team managers as happy as possible. Everyone was already on edge with the semifinals starting in a few days. Negative attention focused on the team or its players was the last thing anyone wanted.

  “How about the wives charity signing on Saturday? They’re still looking for a few extra players to attend,” the team’s PR rep, Ashley, suggested, flipping through a file on her desk.

  Ben flinched as he sat back in the leather chair across from her and extended his legs. On a normal day, those women made him cringe with their attempts to set him up with everyone they knew. They saw a single player and made it their mission to change his Facebook status from “No strings, no complications, and I like it that way” to “Blissfully wed and miserable.” Now, seeing them would be even worse. They’d either hate the fact he’d gotten married without their approval or hate him for trying to get a record-breaking divorce. “Pass.”

  “We’re running out of options, Ben,” Peter Aisley, his long-time agent and manager, said. Peter had been guiding his career for more than fifteen years, and the poor man looked more stressed than Ben was. Taking a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, Peter wiped at the beads of sweat forming on his balding head and his left knee bounced.

  “Hey, don’t sweat it. Ashley’s the world’s greatest PR manager—she’ll have my reputation back on track in no time.” He tapped his agent’s arm.

  They spoke in unison. “That’s what I’m afraid of…”

  “I’m not a miracle worker, Ben…”

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay, let’s get serious. Do we have anything with kids? A hospital visit or school career day?” He liked the more hands-on events with the children, where he would have little contact with women—tempting, angry, or otherwise. Kids he could handle.

  “Nothing like that,” Ashley said, “but what about that children’s hospital charity event—I received the invitation last month.”

  One of the charities his foundation supported yearly.

  “We weren’t sure about your availability with the pending playoff schedule. But it’s tomorrow night. You’re in town, right?”

  He nodded. Not ideal, but at least he’d get it over with quickly and before the first game of the next round. “I should be able to get out of practice in time to attend.” He paused. “Actually, check the guest list.” There were a few nurses at the Colorado Center for Children he’d rather avoid if possible.

  Ashley and Peter exchanged looks.

  “Neither of you are touching the cup when I win it,” he mumbled.

  Ashley’s long gel nails, painted in the team’s blue and silver, clicked against the mahogany desk surface as she did a quick scan for the names he called out. “You’re in the clear,” she said. Then she hesitated, readjusting her purple-rimmed cat-eye glasses as she peered at the computer. “Actually, maybe this one isn’t such a great idea. Kingsley Law Firm is a platinum level sponsor of the event, and Olivia Davis is on the guest list.”

  Ben sat straighter. “Olivia will be there?”

  “She’s on the list. Not sure she RSVP’d yes…Let me keep looking.”

  “No!”

  Peter sent him a narrowed-eyed, knowing look.

  “I mean, that’s fine. She’s probably too busy boiling balls to attend, right?”

  “Damn, Ben,” Peter muttered under his breath.

  Ashley looked between the two of them. “So, you’re sure? Tomorrow night, at the Daniels and Fisher Clock Tower. The event starts at seven thirty, and they asked if you’d be willing to offer up your time as a silent auction prize like you did last year.”

  Ben nodded. “Sure, of course. Got it.” He stood. “I have to get my suit to the cleaners. Great seeing you, Ash. Peter, always a pleasure.”

  “Be prepared to write a big check,” Peter said.

  “I’m on it.”

  “Oh, and Ben—do not bring a date,” Ashley said.

  Ben smiled. “Don’t worry—I got this.”

  Chapter 6

  A skating lesson with NHL star Ben Westmore.

  Ha! As if.

  Unbelievably, the silent auction bid sheet was nearly full already, with the highest bid sitting at five thousand dollars, and the charity event had only started half an hour ago. A skating lesson from him was worth that much?

  Hopefully Ben’s silent auction donation would be his only contribution, and he wouldn’t feel the need to make an appearance. Just the thought of being in the same room with him made Olivia’s stomach do an involuntary flip.

  Though if he did show, the event venue’s five floors made it easy to hide. Each floor offered its own breathtaking panoramic view of the city and an opportunity to explore behind the magnificent clock faces. The décor was elegant and modern, with its black-and-white theme accented with white leather sofas and chairs positioned near the clock faces to barstool seating along the windows. It was a beautiful place to hold any sort of event.

  She took the stairs up to another floor and accepted a glass of nonalcoholic Champagne from a waiter tray as he passed. Looking around, she saw most of the casual seating areas were occupied, leaving only the dinner tables, and she didn’t feel like sitting at one alone. Guests mingled in little black and white groups in various areas of the room, chatting and laughing, looking comfortable and having fun. Not for the first time did she regret not having a go-to male best friend—preferably gay with impeccable style—to call on to attend these events with her. She was too socially awkward to approach a group already in mid-discussion and introduce herself. In the courtroom, she possessed all the confidence in the world. Outside the courtroom was a different story. The law firm being a major sponsor of the event, she knew she’d be asked to say a few words later that evening, and s
he was already having a mild anxiety attack.

  Standing near the railing, with a bird’s-eye view of the four floors beneath, she took a sip of her drink and willed the event to officially start. The sooner she could get home and out of this tight dress and into her pajamas, the better.

  Noise from below made her lean slightly to get a better view of the entryway on the seventeenth floor. She sighed. So much for avoiding the sight of him.

  Accepting another glass of virgin Champagne from a passing waiter, Olivia watched as Ben entered the elegantly decorated ballroom and was immediately swarmed by adoring fans.

  What was it about these athletes that people treated them like gods? She didn’t see anyone swarming the pediatric physicians who performed life-saving surgeries every day. Those men deserved to be showered with praise and adoration.

  Ben Westmore played with a puck for a living. She took a healthy gulp of her drink, the bubbles in the dry liquid making her cough.

  She couldn’t see the short woman on Ben’s arm through the crowd, but she caught the tail of an off-white, crochet-style floor-length gown, between the legs of suits crowded around them.

  Unbelievable. Wasn’t he the one who wanted to keep a low profile? News of his marriage was all over the tabloids, yet he brought a date to this event?

  Jealousy she refused to acknowledge had her on edge. Since that day in the office, she hadn’t been able to shake off the unsettling connection she’d felt to him—ever briefly. He was the last man on Earth that she would have expected to feel anything for—arrogant athletes weren’t her thing—but she had to admit that she could understand how women fell for him. Besides the gorgeous exterior, he had a magnetic pull to him, drawing people in…Obviously the woman on his arm didn’t care about his reputation or the fact that he was married.

  Well, if Ben wanted to give her more ammunition to use against him in court, Olivia would gladly take it. She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink, which really did need alcohol, before setting the glass down.

  The host of the evening—Emelia Michelin, the hospital’s director—took the stage at the front of the room on the first floor, and a silence fell over the venue. Olivia moved along the railing as several others joined her for a better view.

  “Thank you all for coming out this evening. On behalf of the Colorado Center for Children, I want to thank our event sponsors for making tonight possible and all of our donors whose continued support ensures the hospital can provide the best level of care for our patients. We have some amazing items on the silent auction tables upstairs…”

  Ben glanced up as the woman motioned, and grabbing the arm of the man next to her, Olivia hid.

  The man shot her a look, then smiled. “Hi…Have we met?”

  Shit. Now she’d have someone else to avoid for the rest of the evening. “No…I apologize, I thought you were my date.”

  “I could be,” he said, holding her hand on his arm.

  She yanked it away as politely as possible. “Excuse me,” she said as she moved toward the stairs.

  The man’s eyes followed her, as though waiting to see if she’d been lying about the date, and she was relieved when she heard Emelia announce it was time for everyone to take a seat at their designated tables for dinner. As she descended the stairs carefully in her three-inch strappy silver sandals, she retrieved her table number from her purse.

  She scanned the room for table six. Near the window in the far corner. Perfect. She could hide away and skip out unnoticed after the final presentation and speeches. Finding her place card, she set her clutch on the chair next to hers and reached for her chair.

  “Looks like we have similar taste in charities,” Ben’s voice said behind her. Her hand missed the chair as she turned, and he moved it away from the table for her.

  He wore a black tuxedo better than any other man in the room. He’d looked great from afar, but up close, he just wasn’t fair. The way the perfectly tailored jacket fit across his shoulders and chest made her mouth water. The smell of his cologne made her slightly dizzy as the masculine yet soft musky scent tempted her to lean closer. Instead, she held her breath as she sat. “You’re at this table?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “As fate would have it.”

  “Where’s your date?” she asked pointedly when he sat two seats away.

  He looked around and a smile spread across his face. One that sucked the air from her lungs. Those dimples should be illegal. They were obviously the secret weapon he used to lure unsuspecting women like her client. His dark hair, which had been a spiky, controlled mess that day in her office, was now neatly slicked back, the slightly longer top pieces brushed to the side. She couldn’t decide which look was sexier…before she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be contemplating that anyway.

  “There she is,” he said, as the woman’s dress came into her peripheral vision.

  She turned and Ben stood to hold the chair next to her for his date.

  Fantastic. She was content in knowing he was making her case easier by appearing at public events with another woman on his arm, but she didn’t exactly feel like watching the two of them together all evening.

  And she absolutely refused to read anything into that.

  She sat straighter as the woman’s chair inched closer to the table and plastered on her best fake smile as she turned for introductions. But the smile faded fast.

  “Olivia Davis, this is Beverly Westmore,” Ben said. “Mom, this is the lawyer trying to ruin my life.”

  * * *

  The oh-shit-is-it-too-late-to-change-tables flush of color on Olivia’s cheeks brought the woman’s hotness to a whole new level. One he hadn’t thought possible.

  He’d noticed her leaning over the railing above them almost immediately, and the sight of her had nearly knocked the wind from his lungs. The white dress, with its low-cut neckline, exposing her beautiful neck and collarbone, and the high slit up the left side, revealing legs that seemingly went on forever, had him practically salivating. With her dark hair pinned back from her face, the thick curls dancing on her shoulders when she moved, she was stunning. But it was her expression that got to him. The wistful, slightly longing look as she’d surveyed the crowd, then the flicker of panic when their gazes met.

  She’d felt their connection that day in her office as much as he had.

  Pulling out her chair had been a mistake. The faint scent of her perfume had tempted him to draw her closer.

  He didn’t know what was wrong with him. It wasn’t as though he’d never seen a beautiful woman before. Hell, he usually had three or four beautiful women on the go at any given time. Not exactly noble, but in his defense, he was always straightforward about what he was looking for.

  More specifically, what he wasn’t looking for.

  So, why this woman had such an effect on him, he didn’t know. But he didn’t like it. He didn’t do complicated relationships. And anything with Olivia was sure to be complicated.

  He glanced around, expecting to see her date arrive at the table, but the seat on the other side of her remained empty.

  Had she come alone? Was it possible that a woman this appealing was unattached? He knew so little about her, and yet she knew so much about him. Private, confidential information that she planned to use against him. That should be enough to cool his attraction to her, but it didn’t. Though he’d prefer to even the field a little.

  “Hello,” his mother said, extending a hand to Olivia. Her presence was a reminder to keep his actions in check.

  That didn’t mean his thoughts had to behave.

  “Hi. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Westmore,” Olivia said politely.

  His mother laughed. “I’m sorry if my son is being a pain in the ass,” she said.

  His eyes widened. Where was his ally?

  Olivia’s eyes met his, and her I-like-your-mom expression made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Mom, would you like some wine?” he asked, reaching for the bottle of
Merlot on the table.

  “Yes, please.”

  He poured. “Ms. Davis?”

  “Olivia,” she corrected. “And no, thank you.”

  “You don’t drink?”

  She shook her head.

  “Neither does Ben,” his mother said, taking a sip of her wine. “Which is why the alcohol hit him so hard in Vegas that he lost his mind and married someone.”

  Well, there would be no avoiding this conversation tonight. Thanks, Mom.

  Olivia eyed him. “For someone who doesn’t drink to get that drunk, there must have been a reason. Celebrating?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, celebrating. It was New Year’s Eve.”

  “More like trying to avoid New Year’s Eve,” his mom said.

  He shot her a look, but not before Olivia—interest obviously piqued—shuffled her chair closer. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” Ben said quickly. “She meant nothing.” He stood and wiggled the back of his mom’s chair.

  She frowned, glancing up at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Switching chairs before you can say something to land me in more trouble,” he said. Maybe requesting the same table from the event organizer had been a bad idea. He’d wanted to make Olivia squirm, sitting next to his mom, but that plan had backfired in record time.

  Olivia smirked and his mother laughed as she stood and moved over to his abandoned seat.

  He sat and instantly regretted the switch.

  The slit in Olivia’s dress left her shapely thigh exposed almost all the way to the hip, and the sight made his mouth go dry. Combined with the tantalizing scent of her soft jasmine perfume, that tempted him to both move closer and run for his life. He knew making it through dinner would be a challenge.

  Luckily, the hospital director saved him.

  “Once again this year we are going to hold the food ransom as we ask several of the organization’s supporters to come forward to present their generous donations. First, we’d like to invite Olivia Davis from Kingsley Family Law to present the company’s donation of twenty thousand dollars.” Emelia smiled and everyone clapped as Olivia stood.