One Man Rush (4 page)

“Unless…”

He let the word dangle between them, the carrot he needed to entice her.

“What?” She halted the idle mangling of her business card.

“Maybe we could work a trade.”

“I don’t follow you.” She shook her head, a furrow creasing the creamy skin of her forehead.

“Let’s say that I agree to one date with this client of yours who has a hankering to meet me.” He knew that had to be the case. She wouldn’t have pursued him this hard unless someone has specifically requested him.

Did she owe that client a favor or need to impress that person for some reason?

“You’d want something in return.” Her gaze narrowed behind the heavy tortoiseshell frames. “Something beyond the obvious benefit of a pre-screened, beautiful, intelligent date.”

“Since we’ve already established that I don’t see that as a benefit to me, I think it’s only fair I receive some other advantage.”

“Unconventional. But I’m listening.” Her tone was all business.

“In exchange, you have to arrange a date of my choosing.”

She waited a beat, as if looking for the catch.

“That can easily be arranged, of course,” she agreed finally, the genial cooperative note in her voice a surefire indication that she was pleased with the deal. “Orchestrating dates is my specialty.”

“With you.” As he let the words sink in, he caved to the impulse to touch her. Hand settling on her forearm, he made sure she understood. “My price is a date with you, Marissa.”

Her mouth opened. Snapped shut. The surprise in her eyes morphed into worry so fast he almost missed it. But then, her spine straightened and determination lit her expression.

“Impossible. That would be completely unethical.”

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug—he couldn’t show his disappointment or else he’d risk giving her too much power. Like getting a good deal on a car, you had to know when to walk away. But putting off the kiss he wanted wouldn’t be easy. Especially not when they were alone out here under the stars. He stood inches from her and her chest rose and fell rapidly under the dark fabric of her dress. He’d bet anything he could take the kiss now and she wouldn’t object.

At least not at first.

On second thought, this was the better plan. Hold out for the date that would lead to the kind of kiss he really had in mind. One where Marissa wouldn’t come to her senses for hours. Days, maybe.

“Okay. If you change your mind, you can always ask for me at the Phantoms’ practice rink. We’re there every morning except Sundays unless the team is on the road.”

He watched her a second longer, trying to read her expression. Then, with more effort than it took to battle through a penalty kill at the end of a long shift on the ice, Kyle turned and walked away.

3

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE
you been, Murph?” Finnish defenseman Akseli Rankinen slugged Kyle in the shoulder to punctuate the question. “You’ve been MIA half the night.”

Stationed along the back wall of the atrium behind the row of autographing tables, Kyle signed a vintage Phantoms jersey as the fundraising event came to a close. Lights came up in the conference center and his teammates squeezed in a few final autographs.

Akseli—shortened to Axel Rankin early in his career—seemed to be done with his signing obligations. He held his BlackBerry in one hand while his other massive palm boxed Kyle’s shoulders. The player had lived with Kyle’s family for his last year in high school to ease his transition into the NHL, so the friendship went deep. The Murphys had become a foster family for the Finnish transplant, giving him a home away from home after being raised in a rough neighborhood in Helsinki. Axel had been part of the trade to Philly in a package deal three weeks prior, but no matter what their future professional lives brought, they were brothers in every way that counted. Which meant Kyle wasn’t about to share details on Marissa. Axel would have a field day if he knew Kyle was a wanted commodity for a matchmaker.

Ax might be his inspiration for the Full Strength Hockey Camp, but that didn’t mean he’d let his brother give him a hard time.

“I had to school the bartenders on mixing drinks, remember?” He returned the jersey to a longtime fan, flattered the guy had wanted him to autograph alongside signatures he’d collected from some hockey greats over the past three decades. “I worked the bar for a while.”

He might have gotten away with the excuse if the young backup goalie hadn’t chimed in. A recent Russian import, the kid pointed a finger in Kyle’s face.

“He go with girl.” The goalie grinned as he threw him under the bus with a basic command of English they understood well enough.

All the other players hooted in a collective razz as the event planners began ushering out guests. Kyle waved over a few more fans anyhow, signing their programs at the last minute to make up for the time he’d been with Marissa. He hadn’t seen her since she’d rejected his offer, though he’d kept a close eye on the crowd.

“Come on, Murph, you can’t hide behind the fans forever,” Axel called, slapping the Russian goalie on the back. “Since when are you distracted by the ladies during a play-off run?”

“Since never.” He wouldn’t jeopardize his focus on hockey; he’d worked too hard and his family had supported him too much to enable him to play at this level. Not many families would give their kid a season to play in a European youth league as a way to catch the eye of hockey scouts.

“I don’t know about that,” Leandre, the French-Canadian forward who played in the second line, piped up. His knuckles were still taped from a brawl on the ice two nights ago. “I saw the female in question. Great legs and a tight skirt. She had a naughty secretary thing going on with her hair all pinned up.”

Kyle’s grip on his pen tightened as he scrawled his signature on a souvenir-size hockey stick, two event programs and a bar napkin in quick succession. While he agreed with the other player’s assessment, he sure as hell didn’t appreciate the team’s resident Casanova noticing Marissa. Finishing up the autographs, he gestured to the team gear around the tables.

“Are we going to yammer or load this stuff up for Coach?” He pulled out a box and started tossing in signs, flyers and magnets with the team schedule on it that they’d used for giveaways. “Last I knew, we signed up to volunteer and help out.”

“Blonde or brunette?” Axel grabbed a box and went to work pulling down a team banner overhead, but he kept his BlackBerry in hand, obsessively checking for updates of a competitor’s game in Tampa.

Kyle ignored him.

“Brunette. Sort of mysterious looking,” the mouthy Canuck offered as he headed for the door, ditching on the event cleanup. “She hid behind sexy glasses.”

“I’d hardly call it hiding,” Kyle called as he shoved a pop-up display of the team’s most famous players toward the Russian goalie to dismantle. “Besides, she wore a wedding ring. Did you notice or were you too busy checking out her glasses?”

Let them think she was already taken. Selfishly, he figured it would shut them up. Besides, Marissa hadn’t seemed interested in dating so it wasn’t as though he was scaring off potential admirers.

Although, maybe she simply hadn’t been interested in dating
him.
The notion ticked him off.

“Dude, don’t even tell me you left with a
married
chick.” Axel stuffed his BlackBerry in his pocket, giving Kyle his undivided attention. Or perhaps he was just freeing up his hands in case a beat-down was in order.

Kyle knew Ax’s code of honor wouldn’t accept infidelity any more than he did. They shared more than family—they shared values that weren’t always upheld by other pro athletes. Two players on the Phantoms were in the process of divorce this season thanks to philandering on the part of one partner or the other. So yeah, cheating was a sensitive issue. One of many reasons Kyle had no intention of getting involved with anyone right now.

“Of course not.” Kyle realized his remaining teammates were staring at him. They’d forgotten the task of packing up. “She’s a friend. We just needed to speak privately for a minute.”

When no one moved, all intent on sticking their collective noses in his business, Kyle shoved away the box he was packing.

“I’m going to leave the rest to you guys since I did my share while you gossiped like a bunch of freaking teenage girls.” He had better things to do than listen to overgrown pee-wee players dish about women.

Especially when the woman happened to be Marissa Collins.

He hadn’t figured out his next move with her, but he was already regretting not taking her business card. He’d walked away, so he couldn’t very well hunt her down now or he’d have to change his terms. And he really, really wanted that date.

The kiss.

Levering open a back door that led directly out onto the hotel’s grounds, Kyle welcomed the night air in his lungs to cool the heat in his chest. He was frustrated with his teammates, sure. No guy wanted to see a ladies’ man like Leandre Archambault salivate over a woman they were remotely interested in. But the greater fire in his veins came from the thwarted move he’d made on Marissa.

Just because he wasn’t interested in pursuing a full-blown relationship didn’t mean he wasn’t plenty interested in pursuing…something simpler.

Taking the long way around to the parking lot gave him time to cool off and prevented him from having to deal with anyone else from the team. On his right, he noticed the low wall of the terrace where he’d spoken privately with Marissa an hour ago. Slowing his step, he saw the lights from the sconces still burned, but the patio was vacant now.

Had he really expected to see her?

He picked up his pace and jogged toward the valet stand to retrieve his car. He’d make a few discreet inquiries tomorrow to see what he could unearth about Marissa. As the regular season came to an end, his days in Philly could be numbered if the Phantoms didn’t make the play-offs. That sucked for all the usual reasons since he wanted to make his mark on this team and take them to the next level. But now he had a new reason for wanting to stick around Philadelphia, at least long enough to…

His feet skidded to a stop.

Because there, at the valet stand, stood Marissa. She still wore her sexy glasses and her silk wrap, her dark hair tucked in a neat twist. Only now, she was chatting away with Leandre Archambault, the teammate who’d thought she was so damn hot he’d catalogued everything about her in his description to the team less than ten minutes earlier.

A fierce wave of possessiveness rose up out of nowhere. He could totally appreciate why cavemen brandished a club to ward off their competition. In hockey, he could battle for what he wanted, but out here, he couldn’t bodycheck his teammate into the boards or throw down gloves in the parking lot of a fancy hotel.

“Marissa.” He hadn’t meant to announce himself until he had a plan, but her name rolled off his lips unconsciously, a primal need to stake his claim.

Both heads turned. Marissa gave him a distant, polite smile that was a far cry from the fireworks he’d seen in her eyes earlier. Leandre presented a Cheshire cat grin that told him he’d been making a play for the sizzling-hot matchmaker.

“Can I give you a lift?” Kyle offered, urging her silently with his eyes. Didn’t she recognize a player when she saw one?

“I have my car, thank you.” She kept her chin high, no doubt enjoying her opportunity to rub his nose in the fact that he’d walked away from her before.

An awkward pause followed where Leandre seemed to be waiting for him to get lost and Kyle fought the urge to haul Marissa away to address the unfinished business between them.

Finally, Leandre spoke up. “Marissa is a professional matchmaker. I thought I might test out a new way of dating.”

Kyle nearly choked on the guy’s gall.

“You’re kidding, right? Have you told her that your idea of a first date involves a hotel room? Or that you have about as much intention of committing as—”

“Okay.” Marissa slid her hand around his forearm, her fingers spread wide like the talons on a bird of prey. “Enough. Did you have something to discuss with me, Mr. Murphy?”

“Damn right, I do.”

“Hey, I was here first,” Leandre whined until Marissa smiled serenely at him.

“And I’m so grateful that you’re considering my offer, Mr. Archambault. May I give you a call tomorrow to follow up on our conversation?”

Leandre grinned like a kid playing teacher’s pet, his smile so ingratiating and fake it was all Kyle could do not to snarl.

“I look forward to hearing from you.” He acted as if he wanted to say more, but the valet rolled up with the guy’s flashy black-on-black BMW X5. “I’m very interested.”

As he slid into his car like a snake into its den, Marissa released her hold on Kyle’s arm.

“What business did you want to discuss?” She turned on him, arms folded, her manner decidedly less pleasant under the harsh exterior lights surrounding the valet’s key rack.

“I was trying to save you from that low-life.”

“The only thing you accomplished was scaring off business and potentially harming my bottom line.” Her violet-blue eyes gave no quarter, the unusual color vivid even through the glasses. “In a night when you’ve already cost me a bundle, how can you honestly deny me the chance to sign on some potential candidates for my services?”

“Is that what dating is all about these days?” He snagged his keys and handed them to one of the kids retrieving cars. “Fattening up your bottom line?”

* * *

MARISSA FELT AS THOUGH
a pin had been stuck in the balloon of her frustration. All her righteous indignation at Kyle’s he-man tactics hissed away as she deflated right there in the parking lot.

Kyle’s words exposed a weakness she wasn’t proud of, the fact that she might be selling out to help her mother. But, oh, God, what choice did she have?

“What’s the matter?” he continued to rant, oblivious to the raw nerve he’d struck. “Cat got your tongue? Truth hurt?”

A snappy comeback was really called for right about now. She needed to deflect and march away. But she’d failed on every level tonight and she didn’t have it in her to argue with a man who hadn’t let her off the hook for her shortcomings.

“Actually, yes.” She shoved her glasses higher on her nose, wishing she had a plastic barrier to shield the rest of her body from this man’s appeal. “Perhaps you have struck too close to the truth for my liking.” She cleared her throat to get rid of the frog that lurked there. “I will take your complaint under advisement.”

Blindly, she reached for her keys on the valet stand, but they all looked alike to her, and for some reason, the display appeared blurry.

“Oh, crap.” Suddenly, Kyle was right beside her, tilting her chin up in his big, broad palm, angling her face under the hideous fluorescent lights. “I made you cry.”

The utter horror in his voice snapped her out of the momentary self-pity. Thankfully, her voice was steady.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided, mustering all the cool disdain possible. “Spring is hay fever season. Something on the grounds has been making my eyes water all night.”

“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” He held his hands away from his body and stepped back, as if to give her an unimpeded view.

She wanted to laugh, her emotions boiling over after a day from hell. No, a year from hell. But no matter that he was being irreverent, her gaze raked over him from head to toe, lingering in the middle. Heat flared inside her as she responded the way any red-blooded woman might to an invitation to ogle a man who looked like him.

“Um. No.” Her grip tightened on her shawl, her arms hiding her body’s reaction to him. “You look full grown to me.”

The throaty hitch in her voice couldn’t have sounded more sexually aggressive if she tried. But damn it, she
hadn’t
tried. She just felt inexplicably attracted to him and that scared her.

“Your car’s ready, sir,” a young valet informed them from behind Kyle. She hadn’t heard Kyle request his car—the kid must have just recognized him and brought the automobile around.