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With obvious relief, Jacobs flashed him a thankful smile, said a quick goodbye and fled the scene.
Holly whirled around, tugging at her skirt as though willing more fabric to appear. “Luke! Uh, Mr. Maguire, I—”
“Luke’s fine.”
They lapsed into an awkward silence.
She bit her lip.
Damn, her mouth is amazing. And he really needed to stop noticing that.
He pulled a frustrated hand down his face, cursing inwardly as he realized his mistake. Satisfaction sparked in those coffee-brown eyes of hers—he and his day’s worth of stubble were busted. But to his surprise, her dawning smile was more teasing than mocking, and it made him want to wipe it off her face in a way that would be pleasurable for them both.
“You guys want to get started, or what?”
The cameraman’s sudden intrusion jerked Luke out of a mental image in which he and Holly were long past “started” and well on their way to “finished.”
What a hypocrite! He kept telling his guys to focus and here he was, distracted by a pretty face.
Except he sensed she was more than that. Something about her ditzy act wasn’t quite right. There was more going on underneath the glossy surface she presented to the world, he just knew it. He trusted his instincts—his livelihood depended on them. His shot might be off, but his gut wasn’t. And if Holly Evans had another agenda, she was a danger to him and his team. Then again, just the sight of her in that outfit was dangerous.
“What? Yes! Of course, Jay, thanks!” Holly’s voice was about an octave too high and a six-pack of Red Bull too perky. She gave Jay an overly bright smile and snatched her interview cards from the stool. “Luke, if you’ll take a seat?”
Like a good little soldier, Luke walked over and sat down.
“We’ll start with a quick Q and A with just you on camera, and then I’ve got a couple of more in-depth questions that we’ll shoot with the two of us on-screen.”
“Yeah, sure.” He tried to appear casual and nonchalant.
She gave Jay a nod and waited until the little red light on the camera flicked on and the boom was in place. Then she turned back to Luke, fixed him with a look of professional interest and got down to business.
“What’s the last thing you watched on YouTube?”
The question was like being cross-checked from behind, leaving him momentarily stunned. No way in hell he was going to admit he spent his evening re-inflating his ego by watching her call him hot.
“Are you serious?” He’d meant to sound casually mocking, but was afraid it had come out somewhat closer to defensive. “That’s the hard-hitting lead issue? You’ve got to have something better than that. What’s the next question?”
She looked flustered by his outburst, and he hated the fact that he felt badly about it. He should be out on the ice, working on his slap shot, not in here trying to hide his guilt. She glanced down at her note card and closed her eyes, just for a second, before opening them and meeting his gaze. She looked focused, determined and a little defiant, if he wasn’t mistaken. She cleared her throat.
“Boxers or briefs?”
All his composure deserted him. He held up a hand and glanced over at the camera. “Turn that off.”
He waited until Jay lowered the boom mic and stepped toward the tripod before he rounded on the woman who had the singular ability to distract and frustrate him beyond measure.
“Look, I get that you have a job to do, but what’s going on here, it’s a big deal. This team is in the play-offs for the first time in its five-year history. Not a single player on our roster has ever won a championship. We’ve got a chance to do something great.”
He took a deep breath and unclenched his fist.
“The problem is, two nights ago we handed Colorado a shutout victory on a silver platter. This team is now skating on thin ice, and if we’re going to get out of the first round intact, I need my guys focused on winning hockey games, not talking about their underwear and eyeing your cleavage. Everyone else thinks you’re cute and harmless and charming, but I don’t buy it. So if you’re just using us to make a name for yourself, then you’ve picked the wrong team. We don’t have time for distractions right now. I’m done here.”
With that, Luke stalked away from her. Again.
3 (#ulink_87cc3659-8736-5908-8570-90d88cf03111)
“LUKE! HOW DID it go? I was just going to stop in and get a behind-the-scenes peek at the interviews.”
Luke pulled up short at the familiar booming voice. You didn’t stalk past Ron Lougheed, general manager of the Portland Storm, no matter how frustrated you might be. Besides, this was the perfect opportunity to bring up his concerns.
“Yeah, about that, sir... As team captain, it’s my job to make sure that my guys are centered, that hockey is the top priority. We’ve been through a lot this season and now it seems we’re finally gelling at the right time. I’m worried that Holly Evans is a distraction we can’t afford right now.”
“Nonsense! Holly Evans and her delightful brand of infotainment is exactly what the franchise needs in order to make some headway into the hearts and minds of hockey fans.”
Ron Lougheed was a heavyset giant of a man and despite his gregarious demeanor, everyone in the hockey world knew that when he made up his mind, there was no changing it.
Still, Luke had to try. “But sir, our time is better spent if we—”
“Let me tell you a little something about the business of hockey, Mr. Maguire. For the last five years, our merchandising and ticket sales have consistently ranked in the bottom third of the league’s teams. Since we made the play-offs, we’ve seen a fifteen percent jump in merchandise revenue and we’ve almost sold out tonight’s game. That’s after one post-season game. We need to ride this wave, and the Women’s Hockey Network is helping us do that. That clip of you walking away from her the other night has half a million likes. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but it’s good.”
Luke nodded. Shut his mouth. Braced for impact.
“I trust I don’t need to tell you how eager we are to see results in the postseason?”
“No, sir.”
“Excellent. Now, what were you saying about concerns?”
A headshake was the best Luke could muster. “Nothing, sir. Nothing at all.”
“That’s what I thought. I’m looking forward to watching your interview footage from this morning. After all, a captain sets the tone for his team, and I know I picked the right man to keep these boys on track. And put a couple of pucks in the net, while you’re at it. Understood?”
“Perfectly.”
Ten minutes of fuming and a chicken and pasta lunch later, Luke was back in front of the doors emblazoned with the stylized cresting wave of the team’s logo. The doors burst open just as he reached for them, but instead of revealing his sexy, skirt-suited nemesis, he came face-to-face with the rookie.
“Dude, you up next?”
“Yeah.” He glanced over the kid’s shoulder, but the doors swooped shut before he could catch even a glimpse of teal. “Yeah, I’m up next.”
“Cool. Word of advice? If you stand close enough during the part where she’s on-screen with you, you can see all the way down her shirt.”
When his tip failed to elicit any reaction from Luke, Sillinger’s cocky grin faded. “Look, Cap, I want to apologize for what I said after the game the other day. Cubs explained why you’re so tense and everything.”
The kid glanced away as he said it, so he missed Luke’s look of surprise at the mention of Eric Jacobs, or Cubs, as everyone on the team referred to him. “Exactly what did he tell you?”
“Oh, you know. All the pressure you’re under from the higher-ups. And dealing with the media. And about your shot being off and stuff.”
Luke exhaled. He should have known Jacobs would have picked up on all of Luke’s behind-the-scenes crap. The guy was eerily intuitive—it was what made him so great out there on the ice.
“Um, you ever consider that maybe your shot’s off because, um...” The kid leaned conspiratorially close and murmured, “I’m just sayin’, maybe it would help if you changed the oil.”
Luke stared blankly at the right-winger. He didn’t like where this conversation was going, mostly because he’d been thinking about it a lot since he’d watched that damn video last night. Holly Evans was beautiful, and she’d made him think about something other than hockey for the first time in a long while. And she could certainly get him riled up. Not to mention she didn’t give a damn about hockey. All things he found way too appealing at this very moment.
“Sometimes things get rusty when the pipe’s not clean, you understand? I mean, how long’s it been, man? In my experience, a good lube job can really help work out the kinks. And lucky for you, right through that door is a smoking-hot woman who told the entire internet that she considers you a certified Grade-A cut of beef. Plus, when I made my move, she told me she’s looking for a guy with more maturity. That’s your in, dude! She totally wants someone old. You should hit that.”
Luke was pretty sure he’d never felt more ancient than he did having this particular conversation and he was only twenty-six. “Thanks for the advice, rookie.”
“Hey, no problem, Cap. I got your back.” Brett glanced at the door to the interview room. “You need a wingman in there, or you good?”
“I think I got it,” Luke assured him.
Their conversation was interrupted by the infamous “Charge” anthem, a staple of sporting events everywhere. The rookie yanked his phone out of his back pocket. He glanced at the screen and grinned like he was on the cover of Hockey Digest. “Yes! It’s the car dealership. You are not even going to believe the sweet ride I just bought!”
He was bouncing up and down like a Chihuahua that was about to pee on the floor. “The guys won’t be able to give me a hard time about my wheels anymore. I gotta take this, Cap. Good luck in there.”
Luke waited until Brett disappeared around the corner before he stepped inside for his mandated face-off with Holly Evans, intrepid reporter.
* * *
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME, Jay? You took Salt Lake City over Vancouver in the first round? That’s ridiculous. No wonder you always lose your hockey pool. I mean honestly. I expected better of you. Vancouver clearly has the edge and—Luke!” Holly bolted off the interview stool.
She hadn’t been expecting him.
Like the rest of the team, he was wearing the navy T-shirt that mimicked his jersey, with the cresting wave on the front and his last name and number on the back. His T-shirt even had a white C on the front.
But unlike the rest of the team, the sight of Luke in his T-shirt and jeans did funny things to her hormones. Seriously, is it hot in here?
“I thought you were...not coming back...ever. How long have you been there?”
“Not long,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he sauntered farther into the room. His cocked eyebrow and smug half grin said otherwise. Holly worried that her attempt to appear innocent was failing miserably, because her thoughts were anything but G-rated.
“What are you guys talking about?”
“You know,” she said, so brightly that she could have sworn he squinted a little. “This and that.”
Luke nodded, glancing over at Jay, who avoided meeting his gaze. “Sounded like hockey talk to me.”
“What? No.”
“Yes,” he countered, matching her wide-eyed tone. “It really did. I’m a bit of an expert on the subject. Salt Lake City, Vancouver, first round. Definite hockey talk.”
Luke had already nailed the fact that she was using this job to angle for a promotion. If she confirmed it by dropping the shtick, he could have her fired before she even got started. The best way to reassure him that she was harmless was to be harmless.
Holly’s laugh was both forced and slightly manic as she shooed his words away with the dainty flick of her hand. “Oh, that. I was just telling Jay about...uh—” Think, Holly. Think! “—the numerology class I took.” She nodded, warming to the story. “Yeah, really interesting stuff. I was explaining how it can help you make decisions about important things. Like which handbag to buy. Or in Jay’s case, he’s doing some hockey thing with his friends and I was showing him how he could use it to pick teams.”
“Cool. I’d love to see how it works.” He raised an eyebrow to punctuate the challenge, and she couldn’t quite hold back her frown. But she’d come this far. Might as well go all-in.
Holly could almost swear she saw something like respect in his blue eyes as she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.
“Uh, yeah. I just added up the letters in Vancouver—A is one, B is two and so on, your typical cipher—and then you take whatever the sum is, add those numbers together if it’s more than a single digit and you have it. And in this case, it was equal to nine. Jay’s birthday is September ninth, so obviously Vancouver is the luckier team for him.”
Luke smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So it has nothing to do with the fact that Vancouver is a team with enough depth and experience that it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion that they’ll knock Salt Lake out of the first round?”
Holly shrugged. “What can I say? The numbers don’t lie.”
“Sorry to interrupt...whatever this is, but I gotta use the can,” Jay announced. “Down the hall and to the left?” he confirmed, and Luke nodded. The members of the Portland Storm were so superstitious that she and Jay had been asked to trek all the way to the building’s public washrooms because no one but the team was allowed in the dressing-room bathroom on game day.
The two of them watched Jay leave, and she used the silence to regroup. She felt much more formidable when her adversary’s baby blues swung back in her direction.
Until he said, “What is your game?”
“Game?”
His laugh was derisive, but kind of sexy for all that. “You’re not fooling anyone. I know something’s up with you and I intend to figure out what it is.”
Oh great. That was all she needed, this handsome bastard messing up the most real-life, on-camera experience on her résumé. She might not like this job, but it was good experience, and she certainly wasn’t going to lose it by making him suspicious on the second day.
“Up to something?” She placed a hand on her chest like a Southern belle. “Me?”
His parry was a narrowing of his pretty blue eyes. “Something has been bugging me about your act since the moment we met.”
“Oh, you mean that time you were so unchivalrous as to walk away from me without answering my question?”
“So I asked myself,” he continued, without missing a beat, “why would someone who disliked sports so much that she asked about beards instead of the game bother to make a fake sports show? And the only answer I could come up with was, she wouldn’t. The way I see it, you have your own agenda, and it’s not going to do any of the members of this team any good.”
Holly shook her head, eyes wide like an ingenue. “I don’t know what you mean. The Women’s Hockey Network is all about asking the kinds of questions we girls find important, such as what kind of cologne do you wear?”
He smelled so good she was actually a little curious.
“Oh, really? You’re gonna keep up the act?”
Luke stepped closer. His big body sucked up all the oxygen, and her breath came faster to compensate. Who knew having a man accuse you of being smart was such a turn-on?
“That’s the only question you want to ask me? I’ll give you a free pass, on the record. Ask me anything. No holds barred. Nothing’s off-limits. And I guarantee you a real answer. I promise not to say ‘no comment.’”
Holly’s hand clenched into a fist.
Any question. On the record. The reporting equivalent to winning the lottery.
She could ask about his brother’s accident. Be the only reporter ever to get a statement on the one topic that was off-limits when interviewing Luke Maguire. Hear in his own words how it felt to be back in the play-offs for the first time since tragedy struck.
And she wanted to. She wanted to ask more than she wanted her next breath. But she wasn’t supposed to know anything about hockey, so she restrained herself. Because if she took the bait, she would confirm that when given the opportunity, she’d put her ambition before the team. And she’d be done here. He could not only get her fired, but ruin her career. She had to keep her eye on the prize. She had to believe that one day, she would earn that story from him on her own merit, not as blackmail, and it would be worth the wait.
So she did what was best for her career and took a deep, centering breath. Man, he really does smell amazing. “Seriously, is that the new Hugo Boss fragrance?”
He narrowed his eyes and the crease between his brows deepened. It made him look even sexier, if that was possible.
“I’ve got my eye on you, Evans.”
