Shot on Goal

by Jami Davenport

  Marina was coming out of one of the trainer’s offices where she had a desk and computer. She saw him and hesitated then continued forward until they were a few feet apart. The heavenly scent of her perfume wrapped around him and made him crave something he couldn’t have. And he wanted a lot, such as being somewhere private and buried deep inside her, forgetting all his troubles.

  “Drew? Are you OK?”

  He jerked his chin toward the door. “Dad’s outside being interviewed. He didn’t realize I’d been moved down to the second line until the announcer mentioned it.”

  “Oh. That can’t be good.”

  “It won’t be.” He’d explain, as if it’d do any good. Tomorrow he’d put his dad up in a hotel, pay for it himself, and take away his house key. He couldn’t concentrate on the playoffs with his father underfoot.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I need to show my dad he can’t run my life anymore. It’s mine, not his. I just don’t want him to take out his anger toward me on you.”

  She laughed. “I’ve dealt with a ton of asses in the past four years. I can handle him.”

  Drew grinned at her as she walked away. His gaze dropped to her fine ass. He smiled wider.

  “Wanna pick your tongue off the floor and mop up the drool?”

  Drew spun around, knowing guilt was written across his face.

  “You’re hot for her.” Smooth threw back his head and chortled. Drew hurried off before Smooth knew how close he was to the truth.

  Whether it was seeing Marina standing behind the bench or his decision to cut his father out of a portion of his life, Drew played better. Not good enough to win his spot back, because Caveman was phenomenal. If he kept up that level of play, Drew would have to take his game to an entirely new level to unseat him.

  The Sockeyes won by two to one thanks to Smooth and Coop, who scored a goal each with assists from Caveman. Drew held his own on the second line and had a few shots that barely missed the net.

  Afterward, he took his time in the locker room showering and changing. He wanted to give his father time to disappear, and he was hoping for a chance to talk to Marina again. His phone vibrated, and he answered. He’d avoided this conversation too long.

  “Hey, Dad. I’m sorry. I tried to tell you.”

  Stafford waved him off. “We’ll discuss it later. A bunch of the guys are meeting me after the game for a beer. I want you to meet some of my old teammates.”

  The last thing Drew wanted to do was spend the evening with drunken, retired hockey players reliving the glory days. His racked his brain for a way out, one his father would accept.

  “Oh, I wish I’d known sooner. I have plans,” he blurted out before he could come up with a better idea.

  “Plans? With who?” His dad sounded incredulous but hopeful. He’d most likely heard the gay rumors also, though he never brought them up.

  “Marina. I’m giving her the low-down on some of the guys and their weaknesses. I’m running late. Catch you later.” Drew said the first female name that came to mind. Once the words were out, he couldn’t take them back. Feeling like the worst kind of chickenshit, he pressed the End button, turned off his phone, and stuffed it into his pocket. Stafford would be burning up the cell towers trying to call back.

  Chapter 8—Puck Drop

  After the game, Marina stayed in her small office later than usual, going over video and studying the players’ skating techniques, especially the ones who hadn’t played up to par. Drew was one of those. He hadn’t played well in the first two games, but his problems went deeper than his technique. Regardless, she’d watched Drew way too much both live and on video, and it wasn’t his form she was evaluating, though she did a little of that.

  When she couldn’t keep her eyes focused any longer, she gathered her things and stepped into the corridor and right into the angry sights of Stafford Delacorte. He saw her, and his face turned a bright red. He was standing so close to the door, she couldn’t avoid him. She quickly surveyed her surroundings. No one happened to be in the area at the time. Drew hadn’t come out of the locker room yet. No rescuers in sight.

  Fine, she could take on this blowhard herself.

  She squared her shoulders and put on her most pleasant smile as she shut the door behind her, in effect shutting off her escape route and preventing others from hearing whatever he might say.

  “How are you, Mr. Delacorte?”

  He narrowed his eyes and sneered at her. Then he leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. “You have no business working for an NHL team. What was Gorst thinking?”

  “You’re entitled to your opinion.” She lifted her chin a notch and gave him a haughty look, even though she knew it’d piss him off.

  His eyes, so much like Drew’s, were stormy and his stance was threatening. She refused to let him intimidate her.

  “I don’t know what your angle is, but stay away from my son.” He’d gone from threatening to menacing, and she couldn’t prevent fear from repelling her a couple steps backward. The jerk smirked with triumph, knowing he’d gotten to her. Men like him loved to intimidate anyone they considered weaker. Well, screw him. She’d show him. She might not be large, but she had the heart of a lion.

  Marina met his gaze with disinterest and let out a bored sigh. “My angle is to improve their skating. Seeing as you’re married to a figure-skating coach, I’m certain you’re aware of how well figure skaters learn to control all their edges, while hockey players are more concerned with blocking and scoring.”

  He stiffened; she’d struck a nerve.

  “I know Parker screwed around with one of his employees, so I assume this organization doesn’t mind coaches dating players, either, but in my book it’s highly unprofessional.”

  She could’ve pointed out how unprofessional it was to show up for a live TV interview drunk, but that would be sadly hypocritical of her. Then his actual words sank in. Coaches dating players?

  “Exactly what are you getting at?”

  “Drew told me you have a date with him tonight.”

  “I do?” She blinked a few times, attempting to process his words, certain she’d misheard them.

  “I’m a professional,” she said. “My relationship with Drew is—”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I’ve witnessed your brand of professionalism. The entire country has. I can’t believe Drew is stupid enough to associate with the likes of you after how you betrayed his mother.”

  “I— I—” Marina was at a loss for words. She’d apologized both times for her behavior, but apologies weren’t enough, especially for the second incident, and she understood that.

  Drew took that moment to walk out of the locker room. He hesitated only briefly, as if quickly assessing the situation before a mask slipped in place. He smiled pleasantly, but not before she caught the guilt reflected there.

  “Marina, we need to get to work on going over those stats.” He nodded at his father, barely acknowledging him. Marina stared at him incredulously.

  “She tried to tell me you’re friends. What a crock of bullshit,” Stafford said, shooting an accusing glare her direction.

  Drew didn’t miss a beat. “We are, Dad. We’re friends. This is hockey-related. You did want me to get more involved with the team and hockey, didn’t you?”

  “Not with her. She can’t help you. If you want help with your skating, your mother is more qualified.” Marina thought Stafford’s head would blow up. He turned a purplish red. His eyes bugged out, and his jaw was tighter than piano strings.

  “We need to get started, Dad.”

  “You’d rather work with her than spend the evening with several hockey legends?”

  “Uh, yeah, I would. This is for the team. I’m sure your guys will understand.” Drew glanced at his watch and motioned to Marina, just as the elevator opened and a group of Stafford’s buddies walked out.

  “Nice to see you, Mr. Delacorte,” Marina said. He shot her one last glare that said this wasn’t over
and adopted his affable smile as he turned to the small group of men he’d once played professional hockey with.

  “You’re in deep, deep shit,” Marina told him through gritted teeth. Drew looked right through her as if he didn’t hear a word.

  It wasn’t until they were safely inside Drew’s SUV and pulling from the parking garage that she started shaking with anger.

  “What the hell were you thinking? Your father thinks something is going on between us?”

  “I never gave him that impression. He’s the one who jumped to that conclusion,” he replied defensively. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead.

  “You had no right. You’re endangering my position with the team by pulling bullshit like that. If Gorst hears, I’m done. He’s not one to put up with drama.”

  She couldn’t believe he’d done something so selfish and stupid. He knew how precarious her position was. She was beginning to believe where his father was concerned, Drew needed a healthy dose of reality, and she was about to give it to him.

  * * * *

  Drew glanced at Marina as he drove his car down a quiet side street. She was so angry at him her entire body shook, her face was crimson, and her hands were crossed over her chest. She might be a little thing but looking like that she could be intimidating. Only he wasn’t intimidated. Much. He’d faced hockey players outweighing him by fifty-plus pounds bent on slamming him into the boards. They didn’t scare him, either. He knew his teammates had their questions about his courage, but fear wasn’t his driving issue. To be afraid, a guy had to care, and Drew had a hard time caring about much.

  “OK, I’m sorry I dragged you into this. You were the first name that came to mind when he asked me to join them,” he said with as much contriteness as he could manage.

  She shot him a look that would’ve melted the ice in Sockeyes Arena.

  “I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

  Another death glare.

  “I promise I’ll straighten my dad out and never suck you into my family drama again.”

  “You’re right you won’t be doing it again. I can’t be the first name you think of when you want an excuse to get away from him. Our relationship is strictly business, limited to my coaching you in practice, and that is it.”

  “We have that pairs routine,” he reminded her and braced himself for impact.

  “So we do. We’ll need to find practice times during the day, rather than at night.”

  “That’s going to be tough.”

  “I’ll figure it out. I don’t want any false rumors flying about us. That’s the last thing I need.”

  OK, so he did feel like a shit. He’d endangered her career and could’ve destroyed what little progress she’d made in repairing her reputation.

  “Marina, I really am sorry. I am.”

  The anger slid from her face, and her lower lip quivered. Oh, fuck, she was going to cry. He panicked, looking for a place to pull over. He couldn’t handle her crying while he was driving. He’d never been good with emotions in himself or others. He swerved into an empty bank parking lot and put the car in park.

  “You don’t understand. You’ve never hit rock bottom and had to scratch and claw and fight your way up. Things came easy for you.” She glared at him through tear-filled eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” He held his hands out, palms up, not knowing what else to do.

  “How dare you do this to me. How dare you. Did you do this on purpose? Are you trying to ruin me? I know your mom hates me. Are you—” Her words were swallowed up by long sobbing gulps of air. Drew didn’t know what else to do. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, stroking her back and whispering words of comfort in her ear. Eventually, her small body stopping shaking, and her heart-wrenching sobs subsided to occasional hiccups.

  “It’s not fair. I made one stupid mistake at the worst possible time.” She pulled back and looked up at him. He couldn’t stop himself from gently wiping her tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

  “I promise you, I’d never purposely do anything to harm you. My mother had nothing to do with my actions; it was purely my own stupidity and selfishness.”

  She almost smiled, and his heart soared. He was forgiven, and her forgiveness meant more to him than it should’ve. He grinned at her and cupped her face in his hands. She didn’t pull away, and that thing happened again where they were the only two on earth.

  He could hear—sense—her heart beating, feel her breath giving him life, inhale her sweet scent until nothing else mattered.

  “This is so hard. I want you so much.”

  “Drew, I—I know. I want you, too.” The exact moment her eyes darkened with desire, he reacted, unable to stop himself. His mouth covered hers. His arms pulled her upper body across the console. She buried her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth closer for a bruising kiss.

  Holy, fucking hell.

  This little thing packed a mighty punch, and his libido shifted into high gear. If there was any voice of reason left in his head, it drained when she tugged his dress shirt from his pants and slid her hand under it. Her fingers traveled up his abs to his rib cage and pecs until she fingered one of his nipples. He kissed her hungrily, losing himself and gaining a raging hard-on. She dragged her mouth from his and loosened his tie. She tugged it off and tossed it into the back seat. Her fingers deftly unbuttoned his dress shirt. In moments her hot, wet mouth contacted the skin around one collarbone, and he was a goner. After sliding the seat back as far as it’d go, he grasped one of her thighs and pulled her on top of him so she straddled him. He doubted she was too comfortable with the steering wheel digging into her back, but she didn’t seem to notice. She kissed her way to one nipple and sucked and he thought he would die.

  “Fuck. I want to do that to you.”

  She lifted her head briefly, her mouth moist and glistening. Her smile was sly and suggestive. “I bet you do, but not as much as I want to suck your cock.”

  “Oh God.” He shifted her position so she derived the full benefit of his hard-on pressing against her crotch. “I bet your pussy is as swollen and wet as I am hard.”

  “I bet you’re right.”

  “We should do something about this. Screw what anyone else thinks. They don’t need to know. Just between us.”

  Her mouth opened and formed a perfect “O.” That mouth would look beautiful surrounding his dick. To hell with right and wrong. How could anything that felt this fucking good be wrong? She lifted her head and searched his gaze, looking for something. She wasn’t backing out of this now.

  His turn.

  He pushed her backward slightly and unbuttoned the single button on her pants and slid down the zipper. She didn’t make a move to stop him, and he didn’t want to stop. Spreading open her fly, he slid his hand under her panties and immediately found the wet heat between her legs. Her pussy was primed for him, and she arched against his hand, begging for more.

  He wanted to give her more as he dipped a finger inside her. She gripped his shoulders and leaned against the steering wheel, head thrown back, body shaking.

  The entire car was illuminated with a bright light. At first, his muddled brain didn’t register what it was, a second later he knew. So did Marina. A car with its high beams on had pulled into the parking lot to use the bank machine.

  Marina scrambled across the console and fumbled with her zipper, leaving his arms empty and his heart bereft. He rolled his head against the headrest and groaned. His body sang when she was in his arms, and it grieved when she wasn’t. The emotions he’d suppressed for so long threatened to overwhelm him, and he fought them with great effort.

  “I— I—” He fought for the appropriate words.

  “Don’t say it. Forget it happened. We were caught up in the moment.”

  “I truly am sorry.”

  She nodded. “I know. Let’s not mention this again. It didn’t happen. I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat, and
you’re buying.”

  “OK.” He pulled onto the street. They were silent for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. Her next words surprised him.

  “To be honest, your father scares me,” she said with a slight giggle.

  “He scares me, too, at times. He has that effect on most people, but you hid it well. He likes to intimidate, and you didn’t give him the pleasure.”

  “You don’t think he saw through me?”

  “Hell, no, he’s not that perceptive.” Drew scoffed and turned into a small lot beside an older building. “Is pizza OK?”

  “I love pizza.”

  “Good. This place is a hidden gem. Best pizza in Seattle, and we should have it to ourselves this late at night.”

  She glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven. “When do they close?”

  “About one a.m. They have a booming takeout business.” He led her inside the narrow dining area with about a half-dozen tables. The hardwood floor was original and creaked under their feet. The ceilings were high, and one wall was ancient brick.

  “Drew, my man! Welcome!” A bald, middle-aged man as wide as he was tall hustled out of the kitchen and wiped his hands on his apron. He shook Drew’s hand and turned to Marina.

  “Sal, this is Marina.”

  “Welcome. Any friend of Drew’s is always welcome here.” He bowed low and Marina laughed.

  “Well, thank you.”

  “Have a seat anywhere. I’ll send Becca out with menus and water.”

  Drew led Marina to a back table for two, and they sat opposite each other. The room was dimly lit, and a candle flickered on each table.

  “What do you like on your pizza?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t one of those women who liked white sauce and chicken on her pizza. He was purist. He liked real pizza.

  She smiled at him with those gorgeous brown eyes. “I love a pizza with everything on it.”

  “Everything? All the meat and all the toppings?”

  She nodded. “I do prefer thin crust.”

  “I’m good with that.” He’d hit the jackpot. A woman who preferred her pizza with all the meat. A man couldn’t get much luckier than that. Becca appeared and took their drink and pizza order, returning in a few minutes with the drinks.