Misconduct (Hot Ice series Book 6) (7 page)

“Yes, mister, I can do that. I promise.” He nodded
earnestly.

Dustin smiled. “Good, here you go then. Now you’re in
charge. I’m trusting you, share nicely.” He handed over several ten dollar
bills.

“But brush your teeth afterward,” I said, sniffing.

“I will, miss, I will, and I’m sorry about your knee.”

I smiled and dabbed the cloth on the broken skin. “It will
be better by tomorrow, no harm done.”

The boy dashed off and a policeman came over to make sure I
was okay and take my details. He told me I could press charges but they would
be holding their prisoner in custody for some time as he was a known
troublemaker on the island and wanted for several other crimes.

“Can you walk back or should we get a cab?” Dustin asked
after the policeman had bade us goodbye.

“Cabs are in short supply around here,” I said, standing. Keeping
one hand on the wall, I tested the weight through my leg. It was okay, it would
no doubt ache tomorrow, but I could walk back to the villa.

Dustin hovered next to me, hands out as though I might
topple over.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Really, not a problem. And it’s not
bleeding anymore.” I turned, gathered up my purses, my sunglasses and my wallet
and shoved them away safe in my new bag. “Come on, I could do with a drink.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “We’ll have a drink here
first, before you walk back.”

“And what if I don’t agree?” Though actually it did sound
like a good idea.

“I’ll carry you.” He tugged on his bottom lip, elongating
that slim scar as if holding in a grin.

“You are joking.”

“Nope, not joking.” He pointed to a harborside bar that was
lined with azalea plants in full flower. “A drink there, any drink, your
choice. Otherwise you go over my shoulder for the whole way back.”

“That sounds like possibly the most uncomfortable way to
travel ever. So yes, I’ll agree to the drink.”

“Wise choice.” His eyes kind of glinted, but only for a
second because then he covered them with his black shades and hid them from my
view.

There was no doubt in my mind that if I hadn’t agreed, I
would have been over my goaltender’s shoulder for the entire mile back to the
villa.

A glass of wine was definitely the better option.

“Here you go, sweet cheeks, one white wine, a glass of
sparkling water and some salty nuts.”

“Would you stop calling me sweet cheeks?” I tucked the
stained white cloth into my new bag and stretched my sore leg onto the adjacent
seat.

Dustin sat in front of me then spent a few seconds folding
his long legs beneath the table and settling himself on the small wrought iron
chair. He then propped his elbows on a bright-pink placemat and popped open the
bag of nuts.

“I’m sorry, it’s not very appropriate, is it?” He grinned
and threw some cashews into his mouth. “Sweet cheeks, that is.”

He managed to look contrite and unapologetic all at the same
time. For once it didn’t annoy me, it just seemed to enhance his looks, add
dimension to his personality and make me melt a little for him.

I smiled and reached for the water. “No, not considering the
circumstances it isn’t.” Had he finally come to his senses that calling his
boss—the woman who signed on the dotted line each month for his wages—sweet
cheeks, was not acceptable? I doubted it. Not really. He was going easy on me,
considering what had just happened. That was kind of him I guessed.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Dustin said, taking a sip of beer.

A thin line of foam sat in the stubble above his top lip. I
studied it, not having to imagine too hard what it would be like to run my
tongue over that part of his anatomy. Not that I ever would again.

“Who is?” I asked. “Lucky?”

“This Henri.”

I couldn’t really tell because of his shades, but I got the
feeling his attention was straying to my chest. It was the way his head had
dipped a little. “Henri?”

“Yes.” He took off his shades and set them on the table
between us. Now I knew he was looking at my chest.

I took a sip of wine. More than a sip. A gulp. I was sure
the sea breeze was making my nipples tight and he’d probably be able to
determine their outline. But I wasn’t going to look down and see for myself.
That would make me even more self-conscious.

“I’m sure he would have done the exact same thing as me if
he’d been here,” Dustin said, looking at my face again. “Probably quicker
because he’d have been at your side. Maybe even stopped him from pushing you
over or targeting you in the first place.”

“Henri?” I asked again. How the hell did Dustin know about
my ex?

“Yeah, he’s in Paris, right?”

“He is. That’s where he lives.”

“Gonna be awkward that, you two being married but living on
different continents.” He shook his head. “Can’t see how that would work.”

“No, me neither, but—?”
Married?

“I guess,” he interrupted, “you could employ someone to
oversee the team. Someone with the right experience.” He pressed his lips
together. “Someone with business qualifications
and
hockey know-how.”

I held up my palm. “Stop.” I’d had enough of his waffle.

“What?”

“For one, I’m running the show now and apart from anything
else, the budget won’t stretch to a hotshot executive to do what I’m doing for
a very small salary, and second, how the hell do you know about Henri,
and…married? What gave you that idea?”

He frowned. “I heard you talking to him at the airport.
Sounded like a pretty intense conversation.” He paused and huffed. “And call me
old-fashioned, but when I proposed to my ex-wife, I didn’t do it over the
phone, I got down on one knee and presented a ring.” He pointed to my left
hand. “What’s he going to do? Mail you a diamond?”

My head was spinning. I tried to think back to the call I’d
had with Henri earlier that day. He’d told me he was getting married and
invited me to the wedding. Had Dustin really got the wrong end of the stick and
presumed that was
Henri
proposing to
me
?

It seemed he had.

“Henri is a great guy,” I said.

“I’m sure he is.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut
his eyes. “And I’m really sorry your time with your father went wrong. I’m sure
you were hoping to break the good news to him.”

“Good news? There is no good news.”

He took a drink, set the glass back on the pink mat and
fiddled with the threads that he wore on his right wrist. “So why are you
marrying him if it’s not good news?”

“I’m not marrying him.”

“You’re not?” He raised his eyebrows and appeared genuinely
surprised.

“No. Henri was a fling, a bit of fun while I was in Paris. I
adore him, he’s a really genuine person, but I have no intention of becoming
his wife.”

“But you said you loved him and…”

“I do love him, but as a friend, and he was calling to tell
me he was marrying someone else.” I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “A
girl from the café we used to go to for brunch. I always knew she liked him.
Seems they’ve had a whirlwind romance and now they’re all set to tie the knot.”

“Well, fuck me. I really got that wrong, didn’t I?” He
frowned and shook his head.

“Just a bit.” I shrugged and took a sip of my wine.

“You’re not even with him?”

“Nope. I’m free as a bird.” I flicked at a small black bug
that had landed on my arm. “So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. I won’t be
buying a one-way ticket to Paris any time soon. My home and life are at the
arena now.”

He wiped his fingers over his lips, almost as if he were
holding words in.

I glanced at his eyes, their dark depths gave nothing away.
But I could guess what was there. He didn’t want me. Had no doubt been thrilled
when he thought I was about to get a French husband and disappear. That would
solve all of his damn problems quite nicely, wouldn’t it? No wonder his mood
had improved since he’d overheard that private conversation.

That just went to show what he got for eavesdropping, didn’t
it?

I quickly drank my glass of water. “I don’t want the wine,”
I said, pushing it away. “I just want to go back.”

A sudden sadness had come over me, wrapping around me like a
sticky web the breeze couldn’t blow away. Dustin only liked me when he thought
I was a temporary arrangement. Had only been nice because he thought I was
heading out of his life soon. Out of America soon.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” he asked. “The walk?”

“Yes.” I pulled my purse over my shoulder and stood. I
couldn’t bring myself to look at his face anymore, at the bitter disappointment
written there.

He downed the last of his beer and dropped a few dollar
bills on the table. “Okay. Let’s go.”

I stomped ahead of Dustin down by the shoreline, ignoring
the sting on my knee and the ache in my chest. It wasn’t as if I cared what
Dustin thought of me. I didn’t.

Plus I had a job to do, a big job, and I couldn’t be
distracted by annoying players who, each hour, earned nearly as much as they
weighed. Not to mention my father needed me. He’d been so desperately sick, hanging
on to life at one point. I had to do this for him and make it work. It was the
least a good daughter could do after all he’d provided me with over the years,
including my education.

My throat tightened and my eyes stung. I marched along,
staring at the horizon and the approaching sign that declared our stretch of
beach as private property and trespassers would be prosecuted.

I’d be glad when today ended—what with the shock of Henri’s
marriage, Dustin’s arrival and Dad’s departure, and then, to top it all,
getting mugged. I’d had enough. Yes. I’d be happy to start fresh tomorrow and
hope the stars had better things planned for me.

“Hey, you okay?” Dustin asked, catching up to me.

I glanced at him. He had his t-shirt off and it was tucked
into his jeans, flapping behind him. He threw a pebble in the air and caught it
with a snap of his hand making his biceps tense.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you pissed that Henri is getting married?”

“No. I’m happy for him.”

“Oh, that’s good then.” He jogged ahead and threw the stone
into the waves. “So what is it?”

“What’s what?”

He was walking backward, looking at me. “Are you in pain?
Did that bastard hurt you more than you’re letting on?”

“No, no I’m fine…relieved, it could have been much worse.”

“Yeah, it could have.” He stooped and grabbed another black
stone. “You should bathe that knee with some antiseptic when we get back.”

“I will.” I saw the roof of the villa come into view.
Pressed my lips together and stormed ahead. Not much farther now.

“So if you’re not bothered about Henri and you’re relieved
that you didn’t get seriously hurt, why have you got a face like a cat’s ass?”

“I have not.” I frowned.

“You have. You were actually quite normal for a bit back
there, at the candy stall and that.”

“Normal?” I gripped the strap of my purse, didn’t look at
him. “What does that mean?”

“It means you smiled.”

“I
can
smile, you know.”

“You just don’t like to.”

“Perhaps I don’t have much to smile about today, what with
you being here.”

“Me!” He bent down, plucked a bigger stone from the sand and
threw it in a perfect arc. It landed far out to sea with a fat splash. “Jesus,
there’s gratitude. And I got your wallet back and everything.”

I tore my gaze away from his rippling muscles, how they
moved and stretched beneath the surface of his skin as he twisted and turned.

“I’m grateful for that, it’s just…”

“Just what.” He stopped right in front of me.

I was forced to come to a halt. I studied the few curled
black hairs on his sternum and then raised my eyes to the hollow of his throat,
the stubble on his cheeks, his scarred bottom lip.

“Say it how it is, sweet cheeks.” His voice was stern and I
sensed his patience was running out. “I can take it.”

Well, tough. My patience had evaporated days ago. Ever since
the first day I’d met him. “It’s just that you shouldn’t be here at all. You
weren’t invited.”

“I have a different view of that, as you know.” He slid his
sunglasses over his cap and scowled down at me.

“You shouldn’t have bothered my father about this whole
contract business. He’s not well.”

“I didn’t, my agent did. That’s his job.”

“He should have contacted
me
.”

He huffed. “Perhaps he knew he’d get as much sense out of
you as he would a damn puck.”

I poked his chest. This time, instead of feeling the hard
padding he wore when dressed in his goaltender getup, I felt his sun-warm skin
and the solidity of his sternum beneath my finger. I tried not to let touching
his flesh affect my body, but it did. There was something about his skin and
the strength beneath that flicked my switches. “I told you back there,” I said
as firmly as I could, “I’m here to stay. Get used to it.”

“So am I?” He grabbed my wrist, wrapped his big fingers
around it and pulled my hand away from his chest.

“We’ll see,” I said, tugging.

I was surprised when he me let go and quickly made the most
of it by stepping around him. I needed the sanctuary of the villa.

I’d taken five steps when I felt him clutch my upper arm and
the heat of his hand burn onto my skin. He spun me quite roughly to face him. I
staggered but he had a good hold and righted me with what seemed like no
effort.

“So let’s fucking do this,” he said harshly. “Right here,
right now.” He grabbed my other arm, pulled me close.

I caught my breath and stared up at his wild, angry face
cast in shadow by his peaked cap. “Do what?”

“Hash this out. The damn contract.”

“No, that’s not how it works.”

“It is in my world. Tell me, what do I have to do for an
extension with the Vipers. I want three years. I’ll go with the same conditions
as I have now. Can’t start fairer than that.”

“Dustin, no, we can’t do this. Not here, not now.”

He licked his lips, leaving a wet sheen there that captured
my attention. “We can. Come on, what do you want?”

I shook my head, licked my own lips. I couldn’t bring myself
to say it. But the truth was I didn’t want him at all because the team couldn’t
afford him. Not on his current exorbitant salary anyway. God knows what my
father had been thinking when he’d agreed to that. He must have been on the
whiskey or something.

I looked out to sea, watched a lone gull swoop across the
surface of a crashing wave.

“Tell me,” he said again, pulling me closer still.

My breasts came into contact with his chest. A dart of
longing went through me like it had in New York when he’d kissed me. How did he
do that, when he was so damn furious with me it just made me want to get closer
to him, physically that was. Sense told me I should run, get the hell away, but
I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

“This won’t work,” I said.

“Why not?’

“Because I…I don’t want you.” I pressed my hands on his
dense pectoral muscles, stared up at him.

“Why not?”

“The state I’ve inherited the team in is…” I stopped myself.
I really couldn’t go into all the financial details with a player. That wasn’t
fair, nor ethical. Not when I hadn’t had a chance to hash it out with Dad yet.

“The state you’ve inherited the team in?” He spoke with a
guttural quality to his voice, as though he’d mixed gravel with the words.

“I can’t discuss it. You’ll just have to accept the
decision.”

His nostrils flared and his lips flattened. “You mean that,
don’t you? You really don’t have any intention of renewing my contract.” He
paused. “Shit.”

God, I hated to see pain in his eyes. He clearly loved
playing for the Vipers. And who could blame him? It was every hockey player’s
dream come true.

I slipped my hands higher onto the base of his neck and
rubbed the taut tendons there with my thumbs. “I wish I
did
want you,” I
whispered.

Oh, what a lie. Because I did, just not for the team. His
body, pressing against mine, the smell of his slightly malty breath and the way
he was eating me up with his gaze. It all made me want him very much. In my
bed.