OneManAdvantage (9 page)

Oh man. Heat flared inside him. “After
that
?” he
asked. “Seriously? You’re going to go out with some other dude?”

“I have to.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “You can cancel. Text him back and
tell him you can’t make it.”

“You don’t understand.” Her face twisted as if she was in
pain before she bent her head, her long hair falling over it. He didn’t get it.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t understand.”

“This can’t happen again.” She started thumbing the keys on
her phone.

“Nicole.” His voice came out hard and sharp. “Don’t do
that.”

She ignored him and fury welled up inside him. She sent off
the text, slipped her phone back into her purse and rose to her feet. Christ,
in the now nearly dark room, the light of the fireplace flickered over her
skin, lighting it in shades of gold, her body long and lean and beautiful. She
found her clothes and started dressing. Fuck!

Then she paused.

“My panties.”

He tipped his head, grabbed his own clothes and yanked them
on, ignoring her.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Keep them.” When they were both
dressed, she turned and met his eyes again. “Please don’t tell anyone about
this.”

His jaw dropped. “Tell anyone?” he repeated stupidly. He
shook his head. “Who the hell would I tell?”

“I don’t know. The guys in the dressing room.”

His mouth dropped even lower. “Are you fucking kidding me?
Why the fuck would I tell them about this?”

She looked away and hitched a shoulder. “I don’t know.
Just…you know, guys talking. Just please, don’t.”

His hands curled into fists and he resisted the urge to
punch a hole in the wall behind him. His heart punched against his ribs, his
face heated and his shoulders stiffened. “What
was
this?” he demanded,
not moving. “What the fuck, Nicole? Do you think that little of me that…” Words
failed him. He gave his head another shake. Somehow he’d envisioned them going
back to her place, going inside with her, spending the evening, and yeah,
ending up in bed again. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been more pissed outside of
the rink.

She flipped her long hair out over the collar of her jacket
and picked up her purse. “We should go.”

Chapter Nine

“You’re so big.” The sexy brunette in the painted-on black
dress squeezed his biceps. Logan smiled down at her, the music of the nightclub
pulsing around them, the lights throbbing.

This was what he needed. A few drinks, a few hot girls
coming on to him. He wasn’t sure which one he’d take home tonight, but he had a
feeling he could probably talk both Scarlet and Jenny into joining him.

Fuck. He didn’t
have
a home to take girls to. He was
fucking staying with Fedor and Taylor. Visions of a hot threesome vanished in a
puff of smoke. He sighed but kept his smile in place. Maybe Scarlet would take
him back to her place.

Or maybe not.

He couldn’t get Nicole out of his head, damn her. Christ, he
kept thinking about them rolling around on the floor, then having her pinned
there beneath him, looking up with that expression of dazed submission. And
wrath flared up again when he remembered she was out with some other guy.
Unbelievable!

His interest in Scarlet and Jenny and every other single
available woman in the club evaporated. He needed to sit down. Somewhere quiet.
Hell. He was going home. Alone.

In the taxi, he thought about the evening. At least he’d
gotten together with some of the guys. Bonding always happened pretty well over
a few beers, a few laughs. He’d gotten to know a few of them better and that
was positive. He had to make as much effort off the ice as he did on.

Fedor and Taylor were already in bed when he got to their
place, and he let himself in with the security code they’d given him. The house
was dark and quiet. He might as well be alone. Shit, he should’ve brought
Scarlet there anyway.

Then one corner of his mouth kicked up as he ran a glass of
water in the kitchen sink. He didn’t want Scarlet. He wanted Nicole.

* * * * *

Nicole managed to mostly avoid Logan for the next few days,
keeping busy at work and trying to avoid the arena when practices were going
on. Every time she thought of him, she got that full, achy feeling in her
pelvis. Every time she thought about his hands on hers, pressing hers to the
floor as he fucked her, her knees went weak. The way he’d looked at her, all
strong and dominant male, had annihilated her resistance and the way he’d been
so gentle and appreciative had destroyed her resolve.

She hated herself for being so weak. Her determination that
she would never get involved with another hockey player had lasted…how long? Oh
yeah, less than two weeks. Admirable, really.
Tabarnac
!

And if anyone found out…oh god. Oh god, her insides started
burning and churning at what people would say about her. He’d been offended
when she’d asked him not to tell anyone. She’d insulted him and she regretted
that. But her fear about being the object of more scorn made her say it.

Hell, she deserved scorn. They could call her a hockey whore
and how could she deny it? They’d had sex on the floor of an empty condo! Hell,
she should have quit this job. She still could. She slammed her keyboard tray
under her desk with a crash.

“Whoa,” Emily said. “What’s wrong?”

Nicole looked over at the Director of Client Services. She
forced a smile. “Nothing.”

“Seemed like you were angry there.”

“I slept in this morning,” Nicole lied. “I don’t like
starting the day that way.”

“Oh, I know! It totally starts things off bad. I’m going
over to Caribou Coffee, want something?”

“Mmm. Yeah. Large black coffee. Hey, I’ll come with you.”
She needed fresh air and a walk.

On their trip for coffee, they got talking about what they’d
done the night before. “I went to the gym and worked out,” Nicole said. “How
about you?”

“I was scrapbooking,” Emily said. “With my friends.”

“Oh you do such beautiful scrapbooks.”

“You should come with me some time.”

“Oh.” Nicole balked. “That’s not really my thing.”

“But it’s fun! It’s a good creative outlet.”

“I’m not all that creative.” But hey…maybe this was
something she should try. Something different than watching hockey, working
with hockey, working out at the gym or hanging out with Taylor. And her hockey
player husband. “But yeah, maybe I could try it some time.”

“Cool. Have you started your Christmas shopping?”

“No.” It wasn’t even December yet! Oh right. Tomorrow was
Thanksgiving. “You?”

“I’ve started. Got plans for Thanksgiving?”

“I’ll be at Taylor and Fedor’s place. She does a big dinner.
I’m going to help her cook.”

“Sounds fun. Your family’s in Montreal, right?”

“Just my dad. My brother’s in…well, I’m not sure what his
schedule is right now. And it’s not Thanksgiving in Canada, that was last
month.”

Emily chattered on about her big family get-together that
would be taking place, and when they got back to the office Nicole smiled. She
hadn’t thought about Logan for a good twenty minutes. Yay! Then
she rolled her eyes.

The next afternoon she arrived at Taylor’s house with a
small bag carrying some dressier clothes she’d change into for dinner, several
bags of groceries and two bottles of wine.

“You didn’t need to bring this!” Taylor said, helping her
with the bags. “I have so much food.”

“I want to contribute. I’m going to make my
tourtière
and
sugar pie.”

“Yum.”

“I know they’re not traditional Thanksgiving dishes here,
but they’re good.”

“That’s okay. I think I might be the only American here.”
Taylor laughed.

“Seriously?” Nicole thought about it. “Who’s coming?”

“Well, you, of course. Fedor’s Russian. Logan’s Canadian.”

Nicole’s stomach swooped. Logan. Of course. Taylor named off
some other players, all Canadian. “Oh, Adam’s wife is American. And I think
Danny Mohan is American too. Teppo is from Finland.”

“It will be a multi-cultural Thanksgiving.”

“I think it’s fun,” Taylor said. “Gotta check the turkey.”
She opened one of two built-in ovens and peered in. “You know, stuffing a
turkey is really disgusting.”

Nicole grinned. “I’m glad you did that before I got here.”

When she’d basted the turkey and checked the ham in the
other oven, Taylor said, “Let’s open some wine.”

“Great idea.”

As Taylor poured Merlot into two generous glasses, Nicole
said, “Hey, Tay?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you come to hip-hop dance classes with me?”

A little wine sloshed onto the counter and Taylor choked on
a laugh. “Hip-hop?”

“Yeah.” Nicole nodded enthusiastically. “I want to take up
some new hobbies. I thought that would be fun.”

Taylor handed her the wine. “Seriously?”

“Sure. It’s good exercise and it’s something different than
going to the gym or running.”

“You love going to the gym and running.”

“True.” She shrugged and sipped her wine. “I just thought I
should try some new things. I’m going to try scrapbooking with Emily from work
too.”

Now Taylor really did choke. “Scrapbooking? You?”

Nicole frowned at her friend. “Why not?”

“Um…no reason. It just…um…surprises me.” She bent over
laughing again.

“What is so funny?” Fedor asked, coming into the room.

“Your wife is laughing at me,” Nicole complained, setting
down her wine. She pulled an apron out of one of the bags she’d brought and
tied it around her waist. “Just because I want to try some new things.”

“Trying new things can be good.” Another deep male voice
spoke, this one with no accent, and Nicole closed her eyes briefly as her body
went on alert. He made her think of trying dirty new things. “What kind of new
things?”

She turned to look at Logan. “Never mind.”

He met her eyes and instead of his usual sexy warmth, he
gave her a narrow-eyed, unsmiling look. She swallowed.

“Oh come on,” he drawled, sauntering into the room. His
faded and ripped jeans rode wickedly low on his hips, the sleeves of a
long-sleeved black Henley shirt shoved up on big strong forearms. He nabbed a
cracker from a plate on the counter. “Tell us. I could use a laugh.”

She pursed her lips and looked down at the counter. “Um…”

“Nicole wants me to take hip-hop lessons with her,” Taylor
said. “And she’s going to start…” Another choked laugh. “Scrapbooking.”

Logan’s mouth twitched. “Scrapbooking, huh?” Then his eyes
dropped to her apron and this time a small smile did break free. “Cute.”

Nicole looked down at her apron that said,
If hockey was
easy they’d call it soccer.
“My brother gave it to me.”

“Julien.”

“Yes.” She slid her gaze away from him and began to assemble
her ingredients.

“I have a T-shirt that says
kiss a hockey player, because
other athletes play with balls,”
Taylor chimed in.

Logan laughed and Nicole resisted looking at him, although
the urge to see his smile was powerful.

“That’s one of the top ten reasons to date a hockey player,”
Logan said.

She bit her lip against the urge to ask, but Taylor asked
for her. “What is?”

“Date a hockey player, because baseball players only know
how to hit balls.”

Nicole kept her head bent to hide her smile, but Taylor
burst out laughing.

“Good one,” Fedor said with a grin. He turned to his wife.
“You’re going to hip-hop? This is dancing?”

She slid up against him and smooched his jaw. “Yes, dear.
Dancing. Like this.” And she stepped back and did a few fast moves with legs
widespread, arms waving, hips shaking.

Fedor’s mouth dropped open. “That was hot.”

“Great,” Nicole muttered. “Forget that idea. I’m not going
to a beginner class with you.”

Taylor danced up behind her and shook her body against
Nicole’s back, then smooched her cheek. Nicole couldn’t help but grin and then
she caught Logan’s eye and there it was, that heat once again. She gulped.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. He folded his arms across his
chest. “I’m up for seeing you two hip-hop dance together.”

Taylor laughed again and danced over to him, sliding her
palm across his cheek. “Oh you sick man you,” she teased.

Nicole pressed her lips together, envious of Taylor’s
harmless, easy flirting with Logan.

“Okay now,” Taylor said. “If you guys are going to be in the
kitchen, you’re going to help.”

“I think we should watch football,” Fedor said. “It will be
safer.”

“Good plan.” They moved into the great room and Fedor turned
on the big screen television.

“Potatoes,” Taylor said. “Gotta peel potatoes.” She picked
up a piece of paper. “And make the salad dressing and trim the beans. Then set the
table.”

Nicole smiled at her friend’s organizational skills. This
wasn’t her first big dinner party there, so she knew Taylor had lists and
spreadsheets and timelines for everything.

With the football game playing in the background, they
chatted as they worked in the kitchen, but Nicole was exquisitely aware of
Logan on the far side of the big room, his long legs stretched in front of him
on an ottoman. She tried to focus on her pie, but more than a few times when
she glanced his way, he was looking at her too. Their eyes collided, then slid
away.

“There,” she said. “
Tarte au sucre
, ready for the
oven. Now for the
tourtière.
”

“That’s more of a Christmas dish, right?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah. But since my family doesn’t have much of a Christmas,
this is the only time I ever get to make it.”

“Does your mom make it?”

“No.” Nicole shook her head. “She’s American. It was my
mémère
—my
dad’s mother—who taught me to make it.”

“Cool.”

A while later they moved into the dining room, a stunning
room with red walls, an immense black table and black leather chairs. Nicole
gazed out the big mullioned window for a moment, looking onto the spacious back
yard now blanketed with fluffy white, the shrubs wearing soft caps. “It’s still
snowing,” she said. “It’s so pretty.”

“It is. But holy crap, that’s a lot of snow.” Taylor
frowned. “I hope everyone can make it here okay.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.” Taylor had already set out stacks of dishes and
flatware, enough for the eighteen people who’d be there. “I decided to do
buffet style this year,” she said. “A sit-down dinner for eighteen is crazy.”

“It is a lot of food.”

“Okay,” Taylor said when they were done arranging things to
Taylor’s satisfaction. “I’m going to change and beautify myself before people
get here.”

Logan appeared in the dining room doorway. “You don’t need
to beautify,” he said to Taylor. “You’re always beautiful.”

Nicole turned her back and rolled her eyes. She could not
believe she was jealous of her best friend. Just a little.

“Sweet talker,” Taylor said with a smile. She glanced at her
watch. “Nicole, you can use the spare bedroom you’ve used before to change and
get ready. I put your things in there.”

“Thanks.”

“Fedor wants to know if you picked up any chicken wings,”
Logan said.

“Chicken wings! Is he nuts? This is Thanksgiving.”

“He says he needs Buffalo chicken wings to watch football.”

“Phhht. I’ll go talk to him.” She hustled out of the room,
leaving Nicole and Logan alone.

“Excuse me,” she said. He blocked the door. “I need to go
change.”

He looked down at her, his mouth a flat line. “How was your
date Saturday night?”

She smiled, her eyes narrowed up in fake cheer. “Lovely. How
about you? I heard you went out with some of the guys.”

“Yep.”

“I heard there were girls all over you.” Oh hell, did she
say that out loud?

“Yep. That’s why I went.”

Her smile faded. Bastard.

They stood there facing each other. Nicole had to break the
eye contact, she just couldn’t hold his gaze without wanting to fall to her
knees in front of him. “Please. Let me by.”