Something caught him on the shoulder, just the barest touch, but enough to distract him. He heard the shrill whistle, saw the refs heading their way, but ignored everything around him except the taunting player next to him.
It was a clear high-sticking, blatant, provoking. Yet Randy would have ignored it, let the Florida team draw the penalty so they could have the power play. Would have, if not for the taunting words that came next.
"Such a fucking pussy, Michaels. I bet your sister has bigger balls than you."
The pent up rage and frustration of the past three months roiled beneath his breastbone. He'd had enough. He was a damn defenseman, not a nun. It was his job to be tough, to be physical. And damned if he'd stand there and just take the taunts, not when they crossed that invisible line.
Randy threw down his stick and flung off his gloves, meeting the other player face-to-face on the ice. But he didn't take the first swing, just waited for it to come.
He wasn't disappointed, and jumped fully into the fight after that first swing. It didn't last long, the refs finally breaking them up after he peeled the other guy's sweater over his head and got in one more swing for good measure. But he wasn't untouched, and reached up to knuckle the blood away from the corner of his mouth.
The crowd screamed their enthusiasm, applauding wildly as he was led off the ice. Randy waved absently to them, then walked past the bench, heading for the locker room. Sonny stopped him with a curt nod.
"Nice play, Michaels. Glad to see you back. Now go get cleaned up."
Glad to see you back? What the hell did that mean?
It meant he was a fucking idiot for listening to his agent, that was what it meant. His team didn't need him to be respectable, not on the ice. He was a defenseman, he was expected to be rough, expected to be physical.
Randy didn't bother hiding his smile as he made his way back to the locker room, feeling the weight of forced respectability pulled from his shoulders.
**
Randy wasn't smiling two hours later.
He should be. There was no reason for him not to be. The slim, curvy blonde tucked against his side smiled up at him, her body language letting him know in no uncertain terms that she was more than ready, willing, and able.
And just in case he had trouble understanding her body language, she had told him the same thing. In clear, concise words. No, there was no mistaking her blunt offer to go home with him, no mistaking the blatant caresses and heavy-lidded looks she showered him with.
And there was no reason for him to say no. Hell, three months ago, he wouldn't have bothered to even take her home, knowing that a romp in the front of his car would have been enough to satisfy them both. Hot, quick, primal. No numbers exchanged, no worries about having to make a call or even small-talk.
But that was three months ago. And somehow, for some insane reason, he wasn't interested. Not that he hadn't thought about it. He had. Seriously. For about an hour. But he felt absolutely nothing, not even a twitch of desire. And when she had her tongue down his throat, doing her best to suck out his tonsils, all he wanted to do was push her away.
Like right now. It wasn't her tongue, and it sure as hell wasn't his throat. He shifted and reached down, dragging her hand away from his less-than-interested crotch, holding it tightly in his grip so she wouldn't get any more ideas.
"I've always loved how physical you are on the ice. I bet you're even more physical in bed." Her voice was throaty, sultry. And the words so full of bullshit he almost laughed.
Almost, because three months ago he wouldn't have cared about the words, would have just smiled and led her outside.
He just nodded, knowing he needed to do something, then glanced around, looking for JP. His friend was sitting at the table next to them, another blonde straddling his lap, JP's large hands cupping her small ass under her short dress as she ground against him, their mouths locked together.
Randy clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the beer. Why the hell had even bothered coming here tonight?
Because this is what they usually did, he and JP and a few of the other single guys on the team. They went to the clubs, let the women pick them up, it didn't matter what city, what night. This was what they did.
And maybe he was getting old, because it suddenly held no appeal for him. He thought of Alec, settled down and happy. Even Nikolai, the big bruiser of a Russian, had gotten married. And he was no less lethal on the ice for it, either.
Unbidden, a pair of whiskey-colored eyes formed in his memory. Normally slightly exotic shaped, he remembered them more clearly as they widened in surprise at his kiss. And full lips, swollen from his kisses, slightly parted as those wide eyes stared up at him.
The woman in his mind was nothing like the willowy blonde still attached to his hip. She was shorter, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder, and rounder. Her curves were soft, feminine, fuller. His cock hardened at the memory of those soft curves pressed again, and he shifted. God, please don't let the woman next to him notice, that was all he asked. He didn't think he'd ever be able to dislodge her if she realized he was standing next to her with a hard-on.
Maybe he could tell her he was thinking of someone else. That would certainly do it, right? I mean, no woman wanted to be told that the guy they were with was thinking of another woman.
Thinking of someone with soft hair the color of darkened caramel instead of processed blonde. Someone who tasted spicy and warm, with just a hint of sweetness instead of dry stale alcohol.
Randy glanced down at the beer in his hand, its taste turning sour on his tongue at the thought. Why the hell was he even here?
He untangled himself from the blonde with barely more than a grunt, then moved over to where JP was playing tonsil tag. "I'm out of here."
"What?" JP pulled away from the woman long enough to come up for air, his brows lowered in confusion. "Why? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, I just don't feel like being here, that's all." Randy put his bottle on the table next to the line of JP's empties. "I'll catch up with you at practice on Monday."
"Whoa, wait. Hang on." JP pushed the blonde from his lap and hurried after Randy, grabbing his elbow as he reached the door. "You sure nothing's wrong? We can always go someplace else if she doesn't do it for you."
"No worries, JP. I'm just not in the mood, so I'm going home."
"But this is the first time you've been out in months!"
Randy shrugged, not wanting to explain it to his friend. Hell, he couldn't explain it to himself even if he tried. He clapped JP on the shoulder and grinned, letting him know it was no big deal. The man looked at him like he had grown two heads, but didn't say anything as he followed him out the door.
"I thought you were staying. What about your new girlfriend?"
"No, ami, not girlfriend. Just a woman, nobody I'd take home. I don't even know her name."
Randy halted, stopping so suddenly at JP's words that his friend slammed into his back. Why did JP have to say that? The words brought back his frustration from last night, when the woman who had claimed possession of his mind all night had said something eerily similar.
Do you even know my name?
And the answer was suddenly there, clear and bright as day, dimming the neon surrounding them to something inconsequential.
"Alyssa!"
"What?" JP looked at him like he had just shouted Go Pittsburgh! at a sold-out home game. "Are you sure you're okay? You didn't get punched in the head, did you?"
"No, I'm fine." Better than fine, actually. Randy looked down at his watch and realized it wasn't as late as he had thought it was. She might still be at the restaurant. He knew from Val that all four women were spending long days and nights there, getting it ready.
So yes, there was a good chance she might still be there.
Alyssa. Her name was Alyssa.
Randy muttered something to JP then headed for his car, not even bothering to question what he was doing.
&nbs
p; Chapter Four
"Alyssa!"
She jumped at the sound of her name being shouted, the noise startling her so much that she grabbed the stove for balance. Searing heat burned her left palm and she jumped back, cradling her hand against her chest.
"Dammit!" She pushed past the raving lunatic in dress clothes and hurried to the sink. One twist of her hand on the faucet, and cold water streamed out. She put her hand in the steady stream, feeling instant relief. Who cared if they said you weren't supposed to do that. It hurt like hell, and the cold water made it feel better.
"What's going on in here? Oh my God, Alyssa, are you okay?" A flurry of excitement erupted around her as the door swung inward, admitting Val, Jodi and Renee. All three women rushed to her side, pulling at her arm, ignoring the huge man standing off to the side.
Alyssa took a deep breath and pushed all three of them away, letting the water run over her palm for a few seconds longer. "Yes, I'm fine. He just startled me, and I grabbed the stove for balance. It was stupid, but I'll be fine."
"He?" Val was the first to turn, the first to notice her brother standing there, looking so out of place in the middle of the gleaming stainless steel and bright white tile. "Randy! What are you doing here? And how did you get in here?"
He pointed to the door that led outside, his gaze never leaving Alyssa. She turned away, unable to deal with all that dark intensity focused on her. Better to deal with the burn on her hand.
"Is she going to be okay? Alyssa. Is Alyssa going to be okay?"
Well, at least he knew her name, she thought. But why in the world had he burst into the kitchen, bellowing it? She finally removed her hand from the water and held it closer to her face. No blistering, that was good. A little burn ointment and a gauze pad, and she'd be good to go. She hoped. At least it wasn't her right hand.
"Yes, I'll be fine." She grabbed a paper towel and blotted her hand dry, then wadded up the towel and threw it into the trash can.
"Randy, what the hell are you doing here?" Val advanced on her brother, not bothering to hide her irritation as she stabbed him in the chest with her finger.
Alyssa watched in amusement as the large man backed away from his younger sister. She was a miniature version of her brother, shorter, thinner, with the same thick black hair and stubborn chin. If Alyssa had money to bet, she was pretty sure that right now, Val was the more dangerous of the two.
"I just—" He stopped, his gaze resting on Alyssa then going back to his sister. "I wanted to tell Alyssa something."
"By screaming her name? You were so loud, we heard you in the other room!"
Alyssa smothered her smile and moved back to the counter, her focus on the final creation of the night. A little tweaking, and it would be ready to unveil. If the other three approved, that was. It was different. She looked down at the dish, frowning. Maybe a little too different.
"I still don't understand why you came charging in here like a bull on steroids. Do you always have to be so physical? And ohmygod, is that lipstick smeared on your neck? Randy! I hope you don't have one of your bimbos outside!"
Alyssa froze at Val's shriek, her back stiffening. She didn't want to turn around, didn't want to see whatever Val had seen. But she couldn't help herself, and turned around anyway.
Four pairs of eyes rested on the hulking man standing in front of them. A flush crept up his neck as his hand rubbed around his jaw, not even coming close to the smear of bright red lipstick. His eyes darted to Alyssa then looked away, down to the floor, then up to the ceiling. Anywhere and everywhere except at any of the women watching him.
"I don't have anyone with me." His voice was gruff, like he was insulted at the idea. Alyssa watched him, one eyebrow raised, as Val grabbed a paper towel and wiped at the smear of makeup marring the side of his neck.
She told herself that the brief clenching in her stomach was not jealousy. It couldn't be. She had nothing to be jealous about. One kiss was not grounds for jealousy, no matter how much that kiss had made her insides melt.
Randy pulled the paper towel from his sister's hands, irritation clear on his face as he balled it up in one huge fist. His gaze finally shifted back to Alyssa, and the creeping flush stained his cheeks even darker.
"Some woman was trying to hit on me earlier."
Alyssa rolled her eyes and turned away, not surprised at Val's sudden laughter. Jodi and Renee exchanged a silent glance, then moved closer to Alyssa. Val had no doubt told them about the shared kiss, and they were rallying around her, lending her their support.
Which was utterly ridiculous, because she didn't need their support. The kiss meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"Randy, you are such a bonehead. You shouldn't even be here. Now go, shoo."
Val's voice drifted into the background, lost in the soft exclamations coming from Jodi and Renee as they moved closer.
"Is that it?" Renee's voice was a whisper, almost reverent as she studied the plate.
"I think. Maybe. I don't know."
"This is perfect!" Jodi turned the plate around, studying the presentation from all angles, a wide smile on her face.
Val came over to join them, her brother forgotten as she pushed her way closer to the counter. Her dark eyes gleamed, a broad smile splitting her face.
"Alyssa, this is great!"
"It's not too much?"
"Are you kidding? This is just what we needed! How'd you do it?"
"Well, I liked Renee's idea of bangers and mash, but I didn't want anything quite as heavy as that. So I played around with the recipe, and decided to make some turkey sausage. It's lighter, not as heavy. And instead of potatoes, I used mashed cauliflower, drizzled with a savory herb butter. Very light, very tasty, with just a bit of zing."
Renee leaned closer, pulling her wavy auburn hair off her shoulder as she studied it, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "I love it. And the plating is great!"
"The plating is perfect!" Jodi wrapped her arm around Alyssa's shoulders and gave her a quick hug.
"What are you guys looking at?" Randy's voice broke into their group, his heavy footsteps echoing around them as he came closer. Val stepped out of the way, giving him room to see the dish, not that he needed anyone to move, not as tall as he was.
Alyssa watched him step closer, his eyes darting around all four women before resting on the plate in front of them. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened in shock for a full three seconds. The sound of his teeth rattling as he snapped his mouth closed sounded like a shot in the quiet room.
"It looks like a fucking cock!"
"I know, isn't it great?" Val laughed and reached for the forks, handing them around. Randy ignored his, his eyes still widened in shock.
"Hey, I just came up with a great name! Let's call it the cock and flower!" Jodi laughed at her suggestion, but Val quickly nodded.
"I actually like that!"
"What? You can't have a dish called 'cock' on the menu! What man would ever order it?"
"Who says we're targeting men?"
"It's a sports bar! Who else would you be targeting?" Randy's voice was getting louder, his face a little redder. Alyssa glanced over at Val, noticed the mischief lighting her eyes as she turned her back on her brother and held her fork above the dish.
"Ladies, to our signature dish: the cock and flower! Just what The Maypole needs!"
Alyssa, Jodi and Renee tapped their forks against Val's, then each dug in for a bite of the new dish.
And Randy stood behind them, his mouth opening and closing in silent protest as an expression of shock filled his face, his heated gaze focused so sharply on Alyssa that she had to force herself to look away.
Not because his gaze was angry, though she saw some of that in his hazel eyes as well. No, there was something else in his gaze, hot and dangerous and almost needy as he watched her pop the end of the sausage in her mouth.
**
Damn his sister. Randy wanted to throttle her.
But even his wildest ra
ge—which wasn't as bad as his agent made it out to be—he had never really hit anyone, a least not first. And he would certainly never hit a woman.
That included his sister, even though she had been asking for a throttling ever since she was eight and had bedazzled his hockey jersey.
"Valerie, would you hold still for one minute and just tell me what is going on?"
"Randy, not now. There's too much going on. Can't you come back later?" She whizzed by him, a clipboard held in front of her like a shield as she barked orders at the construction crew working around them. Randy gritted his teeth, the noise of hammering and banging scraping against the base of his skull.
He ignored the noise, ignored the curious glances of the work crew around them, and reached out to grab Val's arm. "I can't come back later, we're leaving in a few hours for a game."
She stepped out of his touch, her long hair swinging as she whirled around and changed directions. "Then come back when you get back. No, that doesn't go there. I told you that already."
She marched over to the work crew that was busy moving a large piano, her face screwed up in determination as she motioned with her hands. Val was a force to be reckoned with, something the work crew quickly realized when she barked orders at them.
He ran both hands over his face, still not believing what he was seeing. Why hadn't he bothered to look—really look—at things earlier? Hell, why hadn't he bothered to just ask? That's what his accountant wanted him to do, before he turned over such a large sum of money. But Val was his sister, he knew he could trust her.
No, he thought he could trust her. And what the hell else would he have expected when she said she wanted to open a restaurant? Not just a restaurant, a sports bar.
He sure as hell hadn't expected a sports bar for women.
Someone whisked by him, muttering something about headstrong women, and Randy almost grabbed the guy to let him know that was his sister he was talking about. But what good would it have done anyway, since the man was merely speaking the truth?
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