by Jennie Marts
She felt good. Too good.
Stirrings of heat swirled in his gut, and he hoped his hands hadn’t started to sweat. He wanted to hold onto her, to make her feel safe and protected.
He wanted to pull her across the seat and into his lap.
Hell, he wanted to do more than that. But that wasn’t what she needed right now.
Right now, she needed a friend. And he could do that. Be that. For her. He could be anything for her.
“I want you to feel safe again. I want to help you. Just tell me what to do. I would do anything for you.”
She pulled back, her eyes searching his as if looking for an answer that only she knew the question to. “Why?” she asked softly.
A pain shot through his heart. A pain triggered by the memory of loss and heartbreak. Of young love and missed chances. He swallowed, his own voice coming out as barely more than a whisper. “You know why.”
She inhaled a soft gasp and his gaze went to her lips—smooth, pink and slightly parted. She sucked her bottom lip under her front teeth—just like she used to do when they were younger—and he felt the same hunger he did back then. A desperate yearning to kiss her, to take her mouth in a reckless assault of passion.
His hand slid up her back to cup her neck but his gaze never left her lips.
He swallowed—then leaned closer—the anticipation heating his skin.
She tipped her head—the smallest tilt, and her lips opened just the slightest bit.
Just enough—enough to serve as an invitation.
Closer still, her breath tickling his skin, their lips now a whisper apart.
Closer.
His whole body tensed, and he could feel the pads of her fingers digging into his back.
Another sliver nearer, and his lips grazed her.
His breath caught at the tiniest of sounds that she made. A small gasp, and darts of heat shot through his spine. He’d dreamed of this. Dreamed of getting the chance to kiss her again.
Nerves sizzled throughout his body.
A hum of vibration pulsed through his chest.
No, wait. That was an actual vibration, followed by the ringing notes of a cell phone.
The phone played a snippet of a classical song, and she pulled back, her cheeks going pink as she pulled the phone from her front pocket. “I’m so sorry. It’s my team-mate. I don’t have to take it.”
“No, you should. You’re probably late anyway.”
“Shit. Yeah, I am.” She tapped the phone and held it to her ear. “I’m sorry. I’m on my way in. Be there in two minutes.” Not waiting for a response, she hung up and offered him a shrug. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. This is your job. And I know all about how it is to have the team depend on you.” Growing up in a hockey family meant that every metaphor used for teaching involved something team or sport related. He popped the trunk, grabbed his bag from the back seat, and climbed out of the car. “Let’s get your stuff and get you inside.”
“Thank you.”
He was already at the trunk, pulling her equipment out of the back before she’d even had time to get out. He handed her the hockey stick and slung the bag over his shoulder, then slammed the trunk closed and headed for the arena.
“I appreciate the gesture, but I can carry my own gear.”
“I know. But I’m walking in anyway, and it would make me feel like a total wimp if I let you carry this heavy bag while I walked beside you.” He offered her a sideways grin. “Just let me carry the damn bag.”
“Fine.” She hurried along beside him. “But why are you walking in anyway? Do you need to meet someone from the team?”
He’d told her that he covered the finances for some of the Summit players. “No. I’m not meeting anyone. I’m just going to wait for you and give you a ride home when you’re done.”
She stopped in her tracks. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“My practice will last for hours.”
He pulled open the door of the arena for her. “Then it’s a good thing I have hours of work to do.”
“Jack, seriously. I can get a ride home with a team-mate. Or take an Uber. You don’t have to do this.”
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to. It’s no big deal. I can work anywhere. And after what just happened, there’s no way in hell that I’m leaving you alone.”
She narrowed her eyes, her lips turning up in a grin. “So what? Do you plan on staying with me twenty-four hours a day?”
He grinned back, the thought of spending the next twenty-four hours with her broadening his smile. “Whatever it takes.”
Murphy caught her breath as she walked out of the locker room four hours later and saw Jack sitting on the bleachers. His head was bent over his laptop, and a shock of his dark hair fell across his forehead.
She couldn’t believe he’d waited here this whole time. She’d tried to ignore him during practice, focus on her skating. But every time she looked into the stands, he was still there, either working on his computer or watching the team run through drills.
He looked up now, and a grin crossed his face.
Damn, but he did have a great smile. It sent a barrage of butterflies careening around her stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this. This heady anticipation of seeing someone, being near another person.
Not just another person, a man. And recognizing that thought had her both excited and scared to death.
When she’d made the decision to come back, she’d wondered if she’d get to see Jack again. Wondered if the Bannisters still lived next door. And would they even remember her?
Would Jack remember her? Remember what they had? Or what she’d thought they had?
She’d been amazed at how many things he did remember as they’d reminisced over the past days. Things that even she had forgotten.
And that kiss in the car—or the almost kiss—sure made it feel like he remembered the time they’d spent together.
And it made her want a chance at another kiss. Another kiss, another touch, another chance at a lot of things.
But getting involved with Jack was a terrible idea.
She was trying to make history with this women’s hockey team, and she’d just moved across the country into a house that needed a ton of work. She’d be traveling with the team and never home. She didn’t have the time or the energy to even think about romance or getting involved in a relationship.
Yes, definitely a bad decision.
But it wasn’t the first—or the last—bad decision she’d ever make.
She grinned back and dropped her bag at his feet. “Sorry. We had a meeting after practice, and it went longer than we’d thought it would.”
He shrugged, closing his laptop and stuffing it into his messenger bag. “No big deal. I’ve spent half my life in hockey rinks waiting for my brothers, I’m good at waiting. And I got a lot done. Enough that I can take the rest of the afternoon off and help you paint. After we call the police and file a report about your car.”
“Sounds good.”
He stood and picked up her bag. “You ready?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you would mind making a stop on the way home.”
“Sure. Where do you want to stop?”
“I was thinking about what you said, about setting up cameras. I was thinking we could stop at an electronics store and get a security system.”
“Good idea. Let’s go.”
Two hours later, he was loading all of her purchases into the back of his car and closing the hatch. “I thought you were just gonna get a security system,” he said as he slid into the car and started the engine.
“I thought so, too. But I really needed all of those other things. When I left Chicago, I needed a fresh start and wanted to travel light. So I sold most of my things and figured I would get new stuff when I got here. So I needed a television and a new laptop. My computer is ancient.”
“Okay, I get the televis
ion, but did you need the new stereo?”
She laughed. “Well, I needed it to hook that cool sound system into for the big screen television.”
He raised his hand in surrender. “It’s your money. You can do whatever you want with it.”
She shrugged. “I’ve never had money like this. I’ve always worked and scrimped. So I might be going a little crazy with this money from my grandpa, but it is fun to walk into a store and buy what I want.”
“I get it. I’ve certainly watched my brothers spend money on outrageous things when they first started playing for the NHL. It’s just hard for me to understand because I’m not like that.”
“No? You don’t ever like to go crazy and just blow money on a big impulse buy?”
He laughed. “No. If I’m going to make a big purchase, I spend several weeks researching it and checking Consumer Reports to make sure I’m getting the most value for my money. And then I’ll usually wait until what I’m buying goes on sale.”
“Oh brother. One night, I was watching a movie about this couple who crossed the country on a road bike, and I went out and bought a motorcycle the next day. It was the first one I looked at. I guess I knew I wanted a Harley, and I just trusted that the salesman knew what he was talking about.”
He cringed. “Without doing any research? How did you know that the one you got was reliable or had good safety ratings or was the best deal?”
“I didn’t. I just knew I wanted one.”
He shook his head. “You always were a little reckless.”
He didn’t know the half of it.
“If you decide you want to invest some of that money, let me know,” he said. “I can offer you some good tips on a few wise investments.”
“Does your advice include saving all of my money, investing it in the market and buying something conservative, like a Prius?”
“Hey, lay off my Prius. This is a great car.”
“It somehow doesn’t surprise me that you drive a Prius,” she said, glancing around the inside of his car. “Or that it’s this spotless—clean and conservative.”
“The Prius is the best in its class for fuel economy. You already know I’m a saver, and this car hits the top three categories—it’s like a hat trick of savings. It saves money, gas, and the environment.”
“All right. You convinced me.”
He snuck a glance at her, one eyebrow raised.
“Convinced me it’s a good car, not to buy one. I’ll stick with my sports car. It’s a hat trick of coolness—luxury, power, and pure kick ass-ness.” She frowned. “Except some bastard ruined mine.”
“It’s not ruined. We’ll get it repainted. I know a guy who does body work. I’ve done his taxes for him. I’ll call him. After we’ve called the police and put in a report.”
Jack had an answer for everything. Or if he didn’t have a solution, he knew someone that did. “Do you know a guy that’s on the police force, too?”
He sighed. “Actually, I do. And so do you. A guy from the neighborhood became a cop. Rich Jenkins. I’m sure you remember him.” He stared at the road, his eyes narrowing as his mouth set in a hard line.
Obviously the guy rubbed Jack the wrong way. She searched her memory for the name. “Oh yeah, Richie Jenkins. That tall kid, the one with the Camaro. He played football for the high school. I do remember him.”
“Of course you do.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable.
Then she remembered. That last night—the one that had changed everything. Richie was the one. The one who had screwed everything up. “We don’t have to call him. Any cop can take a report.”
He sighed again and shook his head. “No, it’s fine. We should call him. I’m sure he’ll remember you, and that could work in your favor. It might make him take the case more seriously. And I want to do whatever is going to help you the most.”
“Thank you.” She rested a hand on his arm. “I mean it. Thanks for helping me.”
The tenseness in his shoulders loosened, and he offered her a wry smile. “I’m happy to. Really. I want to. And it’s no problem. Driving, listening, and waiting are all things I’m good at.”
She imagined he was good at a lot of other things. Like kissing. Or at almost kissing. He’d seemed to be really good at that.
Hopefully she’d get another chance to check out his skills.
He pulled up in front of her house. “I can’t promise that I’m really good at painting. But I’m the cheapest labor around. I’ll work for the price of a slice. I figure we can get in a couple of hours of work, then order a pizza from Louie’s.”
Her mouth watered at the thought. “Oh my gosh, I loved Louie’s pizza. I can’t believe they’re still around. But you’ve done enough for me today. Seriously Jack, I can’t ask you to give up your whole day and night for me.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And this worked out well for me. I got in four hours of work this afternoon while I waited for you, so my night is totally free. Unless you’d rather be alone. I don’t want to overstep.”
“Please, step over all you want. I’d love to have the company and the help. Especially if we’re ordering Louie’s pizza.”
They got out of the car, and she scanned the front of the house, rubbing her arms as a chill ran through her. “Besides, I don’t really want to be by myself tonight.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”
Be careful what you wish for, Jack. I may want you to stay forever.
Chapter Six
Murphy made sandwiches and they ate quickly then set up the ladders and spent the next several hours painting.
She insisted that Jack bring Maggie over, and the two dogs had been having a ball running around the back yard. Murphy had put a gate across the back door to keep the dogs outside and still let the fresh air in.
Winston ran to the gate and let out a round of barks as the doorbell rang.
A quick shiver of dread ran through her like it did every time an unexpected knock or visitor came to her door. The presence of her stalker had made her cautious of anything out of the ordinary.
Jack must have sensed her wariness. “I got it. It’s probably the police.” He looked out the front window, and his shoulders tightened. He opened the door to the police officer standing there. “Hey, Rich.”
“Hi, Jack.” He held out a hand, and the two men shook. “It’s been a long time. How you doing?”
“Good.”
“I see your brothers every once in a while. I try to catch a game or two every season. It’s pretty cool to see ‘em on TV.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”
“So, you said Murphy’s back and had some vandalism on her car.”
“Yeah.” Jack gestured for him to come in.
Murphy balanced her paintbrush on the top of the can and brushed her hands on her shorts as she crossed the room. “Hi, Richie.”
The police officer’s eyes widened then a grin crossed his face. “Wow. Murphy Ryan. You look amazing.”
He looked pretty amazing himself. He’d been a cute kid—dark-haired and popular. Between his good looks and his football player status, he’d always had girls falling all over themselves for his attention.
She imagined he had plenty of women doing the same now. The guy was built like a house, the muscles of his biceps stretching the sleeves of his blue uniform shirt. His hair was still dark, but worn short and tight, and his body was toned and solid. He had the confident posture of a cop, and she wondered if he’d done a stint in the military.
“Thanks. Nice to see you. I would never have imagined you’d end up being a police officer.”
He shrugged. “My dad was a cop, and so was my uncle. College wasn’t really my thing, so I joined the Marines right out of high school. When I got out, I went into the police academy, then got a job on the force here in Denver. It’s cool. What about you? We never saw you again after that last summer.”
“Yeah, m
y dad got a different job and we moved to Chicago, then my grandpa had a stroke and it didn’t work for me to come for the summers anymore.”
“I heard he passed. Sorry about that. He was a good guy.”
“Thanks. He was a good guy. He left me the house so I moved back, and I’m working to form a new team for the National Women’s Hockey League.”
“You play hockey? That’s cool.” His gaze slid up and down her body then his grin turned cocky. “You seem like you’re in pretty good shape.”
Oh gag.
“All right,” Jack interrupted, obviously annoyed with the flirty cop. “Now that we’re all caught up, can we actually talk about the crime that’s been committed? Murphy was the victim of a stalker back in Chicago. And we think he’s followed her here. He left a message spray-painted across the side of her car this morning.”
Rich arched an eyebrow at Jack. “Okay. Okay. Settle down, Bannister. Damn, I forgot how serious you can be.” He offered Murphy a conspiratorial wink. “Why don’t you show me the car?”
Murphy held back the shiver of ick that threatened to run down her spine. Rich might be good-looking, but he was way too slick for her taste. She’d dated guys like him—guys that knew they were handsome and thought that somehow made them better than other people.
She couldn’t stand conceited men, especially when they put others down in an attempt to build themselves up.
But she needed Rich—needed him to take this threat seriously and hopefully catch the bastard who was making her life miserable.
“It’s in my garage next door,” Jack told him.
“Next door? You still live with your parents?”
“He doesn’t live with them. He lives in his own apartment. It’s just above the garage,” she explained, trying to stick up for Jack. She hated the way he was visibly shrinking in front of this guy. His shoulders hunched, and he seemed to be closing in on himself.
Rich held up his hands. “Okay. Whatever. Let’s take a look.”
They took him to Jack’s garage and showed him the message scrawled across the side of her car.