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“I don’t want to get to know him better,” Dena said with a bit of impatience, although she knew it was probably a waste of time to try to convince Krystal she wasn’t interested in Quinn. Women like Krystal didn’t understand how any woman could look at him and not see a hottie.
“It’s probably just as well,” Krystal stated pragmatically. “I mean, being a hockey player and all, he probably has women chasing him all over town.”
“Have you seen any?” As soon as Dena had uttered the words she knew it sounded as if she were interested in his love life. “I mean, women don’t stalk him to this house, do they?”
She giggled. “No. I don’t think hockey players are quite as popular as rock stars or Hollywood celebrities.”
“Personally, I don’t see the attraction.”
Again curiosity flickered in Krystal’s eyes. “I suppose you want to thank Quinn for donating that hockey stick to the benefit the other night.” She explained, “I heard Leonie ask him for it.”
Dena saw no reason not to let her assume it was her motivation for seeing him. “Yes, I do. It was very kind of him.”
Just then Krystal’s cell phone rang. She flipped open the cover, then quickly shut it again. “Telemarketer.” She sighed. “I was hoping it was one of my guys.”
One of my guys. “You’re seeing more than one?”
She held up two fingers. “Or maybe I should say one and a half. There’s this guy at my health club and then there’s Roy…he sort of drifts in and out of my life, so he doesn’t count as a full one, although if I could get him to be a full-timer, I’d end my days of juggling.”
“Juggling?”
She laughed. “It’s not what you think.” She took another sip of beer. “Believe me, I’d rather have one serious relationship with one good guy, but until that happens, I’m doing what most men do—sampling what’s out there.”
Again her phone rang and again she opened and shut it with a sigh. “Not Roy.”
The sound of feet on the stairs alerted Dena to the fact that Quinn had returned. Krystal knew it, too, and looked at Dena and said, “You might get your chance to talk to him, after all.”
When more footsteps sounded a short while later, Dena knew Krystal was right. Within a few minutes, Quinn appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “Anyone seen Leonie?”
“She’s at her class, but you can come in and talk to us,” Krystal said with the same flirtatious banter she’d used on the delivery boy. When he came closer, she said, “Ooh—what did you do to your eye?”
He smiled, as if proud of his wound. “I got popped a good one during a game.”
“You are one mean dude, Quinn Sterling,” she said with a teasing smile and a playful punch on his arm. The ease with which Krystal talked to him contradicted the impression she’d given that she’d hardly had a chance to get to know him. But then Dena realized that for people like Krystal, it only took a few minutes to become comfortable talking to someone. Quinn was no exception, even if he was a pro athlete.
Then, to Dena’s horror, she pulled Quinn by the arm and urged him to take a seat at the table. “Here. Have some pizza. It’s great for black eyes,” she said with another grin. “And you can talk to Dena.” Then she excused herself, saying, “I have to make a call. I’ll see you later.” Before Dena or Quinn could utter a word, she had flitted out of the room.
Dena looked at the man sitting across from her and wanted to get up and run after Krystal. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a dark blue sweater that clung to his broad, muscular chest.
Suddenly all the adjectives Krystal had used to describe him glared back at Dena. Wide, thick, strong, rough, tough. Her heartbeat quickened and she wished it wouldn’t.
Quinn reached over to take a slice of the pizza. “Hi, Dena.”
The smile that accompanied his greeting kept her reply simple. “Hi.” He smelled good. Another reason for her pulse to behave erratically. “Your eye still does look pretty bad.”
“It’ll take a few days for the color to disappear,” he said, his gaze never flinching from her face. “Leonie gave me some cream to put on it. Something with aloe in it, I think.” He took a bite of the pizza, and said, “This is good.”
She agreed.
Then he said, “I wasn’t really looking for Leonie.” He pulled her pink stationery from his pocket and waved it in the air.
To her chagrin, she could feel her face warm. “You were supposed to call me at work,” she said primly.
“I’d rather talk to you here in person.”
That sent another rush of heat through her.
“What is it you need to talk to me about? Do you want another stick?” He held her gaze.
“Actually, it’s a little bit bigger favor than that,” she confessed.
“Bigger, huh. A jersey?” The same teasing glint that had been in his eyes last night was there this evening, too. “Or do you need tickets?”
“No, no tickets. What I need is…” she began, wanting to steer the conversation from a flirtatious tone to a more businesslike one, but he wasn’t about to let her.
He held up his hand. “No, don’t tell me now. Have lunch with me tomorrow and we’ll discuss it.”
Lunch with him? Not a good idea, a little voice inside her head warned. “It would be easier if we could just discuss this now. I work downtown and—”
“That’s all right. So do I.”
The last thing she wanted was to be seen in a public place with a well-known hockey player. She could only imagine the attention he’d draw. He was so big…and so good-looking. “It’s really hard for me to get away for more than a quick bite during the lunch hour.”
“I have a reputation for being quick.” Again his tone was provocative, and to her dismay, it sent a tiny shiver through her.
He was one good-looking man and he knew it. It annoyed her that she wasn’t immune to his charm. She didn’t want to be attracted to any man at this time in her life, and especially not a celebrity.
Then he said, “I prefer to discuss business over food, Ms. Bailey. This is about business, isn’t it?”
She almost blushed. Almost. “Yes. Of course.”
“Then should we meet tomorrow for lunch?” Those baby-blue eyes demanded an answer.
“All right. Lunch it is.” When a gleam of satisfaction lit his eyes, she added, “My treat.”
“It’s a date,” he said, rising to his feet.
Which was exactly what Dena didn’t want it to be.
CHAPTER THREE
DENA DRESSED FOR WORK the next morning as she did most days—in comfortable jeans, a T-shirt and a jacket. As usual, she chose to make her fashion statement with her socks, selecting a pair that had the Paris skyline on them. She added her artist palette pin on the lapel of the blazer and felt ready to tackle the day…and Quinn Sterling.
They had agreed to meet at a coffee shop just around the corner from Delaney Design. It was also close to the Excel Center and a good place to have a professional lunch—for that was what it was going to be. It didn’t matter what she’d seen in his eyes last night. Today was business.
It was a typical winter day in Minnesota, with a strong wind making the air feel a lot colder than the temperature indicated. Dena expected Quinn to be waiting inside the lobby of the building where the coffee shop was located. He wasn’t. He stood outside in the cold, wearing a leather jacket, but no gloves and no hat—as if there wasn’t a subzero windchill factor. He was tough. It seemed that adjective popped in her mind frequently when she was around him.
When he saw her he smiled and said, “Hi, neighbor.” It was a sexy kind of grin that said he was happy to see her—and not because she lived downstairs from him.
“Hello.” She tried to make her smile one of a business nature. Under her arm she carried a portfolio, which she switched to the other arm in order to shake his hand.
He held the door for her so she could enter first the office building, then the coffee shop. She felt his hand at her back as he ushered her toward the small sign that read: Please wait to be seated.
“It’s cold out there.” She felt the need to make small talk as they waited for the hostess to seat them.
“It’s not bad for the middle of February,” he commented, then turned his attention to the young woman who greeted him by name.
“Two?” the hostess asked, eyeing Dena curiously.
“You got it,” he said with a broad smile, his hand still at Dena’s back.
“Right this way.” The young woman picked up two menus and motioned for them to follow her. Dena could feel eyes glancing in their direction as they walked the length of the coffee shop. When Quinn nodded and said hello to a couple of men seated at the counter, she knew it was because they’d recognized him as a hockey player.
He removed his jacket and she saw again just how massive he was. He looked too wide to be sitting on a bench seat made for one, and she thought he should have asked for a regular booth that seated four.
She looked around and wondered how many of the curious glances had come their way because he’d been recognized.
As if he knew what she was thinking, he said, “If heads turned when we came in, it’s because I’m usually in here with a couple of banged-up hockey players, not a beautiful woman.”
As much as she didn’t want the compliment to affect her, she couldn’t prevent the tiny rush of pleasure his words created. She gave him a look she’d perfected years ago—the one that said, Give me a break. That line’s as old as the hills, and dismissed the comment with a question.
“Do you get recognized often?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It depends on where I am. If I’m at an ice arena, yes. If I’m at an art museum, no. Be honest. Until we met, would you have recognized me if you’d been sitting here in this coffee shop having lunch?”
“No. I’ve never seen a Minnesota Cougars game.” As soon as she’d said the words, she wished she could retract them. It wasn’t what she should have said, considering the favor she needed to ask. “But then I just moved here from Rhode Island,” she explained.
Again that wonderful smile of his made an appearance as he said, “It’s all right. You’re not a hockey fan. You don’t need to pretend that you are. Actually, I like the fact that you aren’t.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “It makes it easier.”
She wanted to ask, Easier for what? but decided to let it go.
If she’d hoped that discussion of menu selections and the appearance of their server would put the tone of their conversation back on a less personal track, she was wrong. The first thing he asked her when they resumed talking was, “Why did you leave Maddie and Dylan’s wedding early?”
“What makes you think I left early?”
“Because I searched the entire ballroom for you. If you had been there, I would have found you.”
If she’d had any doubt as to his interest in her, it was certainly put to rest by the way he was looking at her. His words caught her by surprise and at the same time sent another tremor of excitement through her.
“I left early because I had to catch a plane the next morning. I was still living in Rhode Island at the time,” she told him.
“That’s a shame. That was one terrific wedding celebration. I’m only sorry that I came late to the party.” She could hear the sincerity in his voice and see the regret in his eyes.
“It was a nice day for them,” she said simply.
“Tell me what you were doing in Rhode Island,” he urged, leaning forward so that he was closer to her.
“Working, which is what I’m supposed to be doing now.” She reached for the portfolio that contained the legal documents he needed to sign.
“Oh, that’s right. You want something from me.”
She thought she detected a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Not for myself. For Aaron Jorgenson.”
“There’s another charity event?”
“Not an event exactly, but it is a fund-raiser to help with his medical bills.” She told him about the plans for the calendar featuring celebrity graduates of Minnesota high schools, ending with, “Each month will have a different celebrity in front of their alma maters.”
He leaned back. “Ah, I get it. You want me to be one of the so-called Minnesota stars, right?”
She nodded. “Mr. January. You’re perfect for the spot. Hockey is a winter sport, and you did go to the same high school as Aaron Jorgenson.”
“What kind of a photo would this be?”
“Probably one of you in your uniform on the ice rink behind your old school but you can work out the details when you meet with the art director. And as for scheduling the photo shoot—it would be at your convenience, of course. Here.” She pulled out the letter of introduction she’d been given and passed it to him. “This should answer any questions you have.”
He gave it a quick glance, then set it down. “I’d have to have my agent look this over to make sure there’s not a problem with my contract.”
She nodded in understanding. “Of course. And if he says there are no problems?”
He shrugged. “Then I’ll do it.”
Relief washed over her. She couldn’t believe it was so easy to get him to agree.
Then he said, “On one condition.”
Apprehension crept through her. “And that is?”
“That you return the favor.”
“And do what?” She chuckled. “I’m not a celebrity.”
“You don’t need to be a celebrity to do charity work,” he reminded her.
“No, you’re right.” She took a drink of water to wet her dry mouth. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Help out one of the nonprofit organizations the Cougars sponsor,” he told her.
She knew the local professional sports teams took active roles in the community because she’d seen them on the nightly news. “If you get me a list, I’d be happy to make a donation to one of them,” she suggested.
“I’m not talking about giving cash, Dena. These programs need volunteers who will give their time.” His eyes didn’t waver from hers.
“All right. I’ll volunteer my time. As I said, send me a list and I’ll be happy to help out.”
“I trust you’re a woman of your word?” he asked with a lift of his water glass.
