One-Click Buy: March 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Alison Kent

  They walked silently toward the lobby, then exited the front doors and stepped into the cool morning air. Cars whizzed by in front of the arena. Pedestrians ambled down the sidewalk without giving the two men a second look. Everyone was going about their day, cheerfully heading to work, while Brody was here, waiting to be questioned about something he wanted no part in.

  With a strangled groan, Wyatt ran one hand through his hair, messing up the style he’d obviously taken great care with. “Look, I’m not going to lie. I’ve been seeing Sheila, okay?” His voice cracked. “I know it’s wrong. I know I have no business sleeping with a married woman, but, goddammit, I was a goner from the moment I met her. I love her, man.”

  “Sheila told you who took bribes, didn’t she?”

  Wyatt averted his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Then who, damn it? Who the fuck put us in this position, Craig?”

  There was a beat of silence. “I don’t think you want to know, man.”

  Another pause. Longer this time. Brody could tell that the last thing Craig Wyatt wanted to do was name names.

  But he did. “Nicklaus did. And—” Wyatt took a breath. “I’m sorry, Brody, but…so did Sam Becker.”

  13

  THE GROUND BENEATH Brody’s feet swiftly disintegrated. He sagged forward, planting both hands on his thighs to steady himself. Sucked in a series of long breaths. Waited for his pulse to steady.

  “Those are the only two Sheila knows about,” Wyatt was saying. “There could be more.”

  Brody glanced up at Wyatt with anger. “You’re lying. Nicklaus maybe, but not Becker. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “He did.”

  No. Not Becker. Brody pictured Becker’s face, thinking back to the first day they’d met, how Sam Becker had taken Brody’s rookie self under his wing and helped him become the player he was today. Becker was his best friend on the team. He was a stand-up guy, a champion, a legend. Why would he throw his career away for some extra pocket money?

  “He’s retiring at the end of the season,” Wyatt said, as if reading Brody’s mind. He shrugged. “Maybe he needed a bigger nest egg.”

  Brody closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he saw the sympathy on Wyatt’s face. “I know you two are close,” Craig said quietly.

  “You could be wrong about this. Sheila could have lied.” Brody knew he was grasping at straws, but anything was better than accepting that Becker had done this.

  “It’s the truth,” Wyatt answered.

  They stood there for a moment, neither one speaking, until Wyatt finally cleared his throat and said, “We should go back inside.”

  “You go. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  After Wyatt left, Brody adjusted his tie, wondering if he’d ever be able to breathe again. His head still spun from Craig’s words. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Damn it, he needed to talk to Becker. Look his friend in the eye and demand the truth. Prove Wyatt wrong.

  Then he looked up and realized he was going to be granted his wish sooner than he’d expected. Samuel T. Becker had just exited the arena.

  Becker spotted him instantly, and made his way over. “You done already?”

  “Haven’t even gone in yet.” He tried to mask his emotions as he studied his old friend. “Are you scheduled to be interviewed today?”

  “Yep,” Becker said. “And as a reward, I get to take Mary shopping afterward. What fun for me.”

  Brody smiled weakly.

  “What the hell’s up with you?” Sam demanded, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still gaga over Presley’s daughter. I told you, man, you shouldn’t be seeing her.”

  Yeah, he had told him, hadn’t he? And Brody now had to wonder exactly where the advice had stemmed from. Had Becker really been looking out for him, or had he wanted to keep him away from Hayden in case Presley decided to confide in his daughter? In case Brody learned the truth about Becker’s criminal actions. The thought made his blood run cold.

  “Let’s not talk about Hayden,” he said stiffly.

  “Okay. Whatcha want to talk about then?”

  He released a slow breath. “How about you tell me why you let Presley bribe you?”

  Becker’s jaw hardened. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  After a beat, Becker scowled. “I already told you, I wasn’t involved in that crap.”

  “Someone else says otherwise.”

  “Yeah, who?” Becker challenged.

  Brody decided to take a gamble. He felt like a total ass, but still he said, “Presley.”

  The lie stretched between them, and the myriad of emotions Brody saw on his friend’s face was disconcerting as hell. Becker’s expression went from shocked to angry. To guilty. And finally, betrayed.

  And it was all Brody needed to know.

  With a stiff nod, he brushed past his former mentor. “I’m needed inside.”

  “Brody, come on.” Becker trailed after him, his voice laced with misery. “Come on, it wasn’t like that.”

  Brody spun around. “Then you didn’t sell out the team?”

  Becker hesitated a little too long.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I did it for Mary, okay?” Becker burst out, looking so anguished that Brody almost felt sorry for him. “You don’t know what it’s like living with a woman like her. Money, power, that’s all she talks about. She’s always needling me to be better, richer, more ambitious. And now that I’m retiring, she’s going nuts. She married me because of my career, because I was at the top of my game, a two-time cup winner, a goddamn champion.”

  “And you could’ve retired knowing that you are a champion and a two-time cup winner,” Brody pointed out. “Now you’ll go out a criminal. How’s Mary going to like that?”

  Becker said nothing. He looked beaten, weak. “I messed up, kiddo, and I’m sorry,” he whispered after several moments had passed. “I’m sorry about the games and the article and—”

  Brody’s jaw tightened. “The article?”

  His friend averted his eyes, as if realizing his slipup.

  Brody stood there for a moment, wary, studying Becker. The article…the one that had been in the paper two days ago? The one that featured a source who insinuated Brody had taken a bribe?

  His blood began to boil, heating his veins, churning his stomach, until a red haze of fury swept over him.

  “You spoke to the reporter about me,” he hissed.

  Becker finally met his eyes. Guilt was written all over his face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? Why the hell would you do that?” Brody clenched his fists, knowing the answer before Becker could open his mouth. “To take the blame off yourself. You were too close to being caught, weren’t you, Sam? You thought my relationship with Hayden would get the press going, put some pressure on me instead of you.”

  The sheer force of Brody’s anger was unbelievable. He wanted to hit the other man, so badly his fists actually tingled. And along with the rage came a jolt of devastation that torpedoed into his gut and brought a wave of nausea to his throat.

  “I’m sorry,” Becker murmured for what seemed like the millionth time, but Brody was done listening to his friend’s apologies. No, not his friend. Because a true friend would never have done what Sam Becker had.

  Without another word, he brushed past Becker and stalked into the arena.

  He felt like slamming his fist into something. Becker, his best friend, had betrayed him. Becker, the most talented player in the league, had cheated. And why? For money. Goddamn money.

  Money. Power. Ambition. She married me because of my career.

  And suddenly Brody found himself sagging against the wall as the truth of his own stupidity hit him. Didn’t he, too, place importance on financial success? Hadn’t he just thrown away the woman he loved because of his damn career?

  And, God, but he did love Hayden.

  He loved her so damn much.

  Maybe he’d fallen
for Hayden when she’d first strolled up and proceeded to wipe the pool table with him. Or maybe it happened the first time they’d kissed. Or the first time they’d made love. It could’ve been the night she’d put on the pair of skates and stumbled all over the ice, or the day she’d dragged him around the museum talking passionately about every piece of art.

  He didn’t know when it happened, but it had. And instead of clinging to the woman whose intelligence amazed him, whose passion excited him, whose soft smiles and warm arms made him feel more content than he’d ever felt in his life—instead of hanging on to her, he’d pushed her away.

  And why? Because he’d been implicated in a crime he hadn’t committed? Because his family never had money when he was growing up? So what? His parents loved each other, and their marriage had thrived despite their financial difficulties. What did money and success really matter when you didn’t have someone to share it with, someone you loved?

  A laugh suddenly slipped out of his mouth, and he noticed the receptionist giving him a funny look. Releasing a shaky breath, he crossed the lobby toward the hallway off to the left and walked back in the direction of the conference room. Lord, he was an ass. He’d been searching for a woman who’d look at him and see past the athlete, and, damn it, but he’d found her. Hayden didn’t care if he was a star and she didn’t care how much money he made, as long as he was there for her.

  He wasn’t willing to lie to protect Hayden’s father, but he should have told her he’d stand by her no matter what happened with her dad. His relationship with the team owner’s daughter might place a negative spotlight on him, but wasn’t it worth it if it meant keeping Hayden in his life?

  “Brody?”

  He almost tripped when he saw Hayden standing at the end of the hall, right in front of the conference-room door.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  She stepped toward him, and he noticed her red-rimmed eyes. Had she been crying?

  “I came to talk to my dad,” she murmured. “And then I remembered that you were being interviewed, too, so I thought I’d find you before you had to go in…” Her voice drifted, and then she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry the team didn’t make it to the second round.”

  “So am I…But to be honest, it doesn’t seem all that important anymore, considering everything else that’s going on.”

  “I know.” She gave him a sad smile. “A criminal investigation kind of casts a shadow over things, doesn’t it?”

  The pain in her eyes tore at his insides. He hated seeing her this way, and he knew why she’d been crying.

  Resting his hand on her arm, he slowly pulled her away from the conference-room door and led her to the end of the hall. “I’m not going to lie,” he said softly.

  She tilted her head to meet his eyes, her gaze confused, then opened her mouth to speak.

  “Wait,” he cut in. “I want you to know that just because I won’t lie doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you. Because I will, babe. I don’t care what the papers write about us, I don’t care how my career is affected. I don’t care about anything but you. I’ll stay by your side, Hayden. I promise, I’ll be here for you, as long as you need me.”

  He blew out a breath, waiting for her to reply, praying she didn’t say, Well, I don’t need you, Brody. It was just a fling.

  But she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything, in fact.

  Instead, she burst out laughing.

  HAYDEN COULDN’T STOP the giggles from escaping. She’d come down here to tell Brody she was willing to wait until the investigation ended, that she would do anything it took to keep him in her life, even if it meant staying apart for a while. And here he was, telling her he wanted to stay by her side.

  “You think it’s funny?” Brody said in annoyance, raking both hands through his dark hair. “Remind me never to make a grand romantic gesture again.”

  She chuckled. “I only think it’s funny because I came to tell you I’ll stay away from you until the investigation is finished.”

  “What?”

  “I respect your decision. If you want to lie low until this blows over, I’ll do that.” She curled her fingers over his arm and looked at him imploringly. “But I don’t want it to be permanent. I don’t want us to end, Brody.”

  His features softened. “Neither do I.” He paused. “I also don’t want us to lie low.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He moved closer, bent down and planted a soft kiss on her mouth, right there in the hallway. Then he pulled back, smiled, and dipped his head to kiss her again, this time slipping her a little tongue.

  Flushed, she broke the kiss and stepped back before she gave in to the urge to pull him into the restroom and fulfill yet another kinky fantasy. “Come to the hotel when you’re done,” she said, her voice coming out breathy.

  He grinned. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  “No bells. But naked would be good.” Her heart did a crazy little somersault. “And don’t keep me waiting too long.” She drew in a breath. “There are definitely a few things I still need to say to you.”

  AN HOUR LATER, Brody stepped into the elevator at the Ritz. He waited for the bellhop to turn the key that gave him access to the penthouse floor, and when the guy left, Brody sagged against the wall of the car, feeling as if he’d just run the Boston Marathon and followed that up by climbing Everest. The interview with the league investigators had been pure torture. He’d sat there in his suit, with his oxygen-depriving tie, and had had to sell out a man he’d once considered a friend and another he’d respected as a boss.

  Thank God this day from hell was over. He didn’t know what the investigation would turn up, how it would all end, but a load had been lifted off his chest. One load, at least. He still hadn’t quite faced the fact that Becker had betrayed him. He knew it would take more than one afternoon to come to terms with it. But he’d walked out of that conference with his conscience clear, and now he couldn’t wait to lose himself in Hayden’s arms and forget about everything except the love he felt for her.

  “Hayden?” he called as the elevator doors swung open and he entered the living room.

  Her voice drifted out from the bedroom. “In here.”

  He found her in the bedroom, sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed, still clad in the flowy green skirt and yellow silk top she’d been wearing earlier. Damn. He’d been hoping to find her naked.

  Ah, well, that could be easily amended.

  She slid off the bed, her skirt swirling around her firm thighs as she moved toward him. “How was the interview?”

  “Terrible. But I think I convinced them I wasn’t guilty of any wrongdoing.”

  Relief flooded her features. “Good.” Then, looking somber, she added, “I found out something about Becker that you’re not going to like.”

  He swallowed. “I know already. Who told you?” he asked after exhaling a shaky breath.

  “I overheard my dad talking to him on the phone. So it’s true? He really did do it?”

  “Yes.” He swallowed. “Nicklaus took a bribe, too—he’s our goalie.” His anger returned like a punch to the gut. “I can’t believe they would do that. Especially Sam.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hayden said again, reaching up to touch his chin with her warm fingers. “But I think forgiveness will come in time. If I can forgive my dad, maybe you’ll be able to forgive your friend.”

  Brody faltered. “And if I can’t?”

  “I’ll help you.” She smiled glibly. “I’m good at forgiveness. After all, didn’t I forgive you for dumping me?”

  “I panicked, okay? And I only suggested we put things on hol—” He stopped when he saw the amusement in her eyes. “You’re not mad,” he said.

  “Of course not.” She ran her index finger along the curve of his jaw. “I can’t stay mad at the man I love.”

  He held his breath, not daring to give in to the sheer bliss threatening to spill over. “You mean that?”


  “Yes.” She lifted her other hand and cupped his chin with both her hands. “I love you, Brody. I know I kept fighting you whenever you said we were perfect for each other, but…I’m not fighting anymore.” She exhaled slowly. “I’ve fallen for you, hockey star. The earth moves when we’re together and I love it. I love you.”

  The joy in his heart spilled over, warming his insides and making his pulse skate through his veins like a player on a breakaway.

  “I’m willing to be part of the hockey lifestyle for as long as it takes,” she added, certainty shining in her eyes. “I’ll even go to your games.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “But I’ll probably bring some lecture notes to work on, you know, because I still don’t particularly like hockey, but I’ll make an effort to—”

  He silenced her with a kiss, but pulled away just as she parted her lips to let him in.

  “I won’t play hockey forever, Hayden,” he said softly. “And I’m already trying to work on the possibility of signing with a West Coast team next season. That way you can keep teaching at Berkeley, and we could—” his voice cracked “—we could get started on building a life together. A home.”

  As he said the words, he knew without a doubt that’s what he wanted. A home with Hayden. A life with the one woman who looked past his uniform and saw the man beneath it. He’d been searching for her for so long, and now that he’d found her, he wasn’t about to let her go. Ever.

  “I love you, Hayden,” he said roughly. “More than hockey, more than being successful, more than life. I want to wake up every morning and see one of your sleepy smiles, go to bed every night pressed up against you, have kids with you, grow old with you.” He put his hands on her slender hips and pulled her toward him. “Will you let me do that?”

  Twining her arms around his neck, she leaned up and kissed him, a long, lingering kiss that promised love and laughter and hot, endless sex. Pulling back, just an inch, she whispered, “Yes,” and then raised her lips to his again.

  “Should we seal the deal?” he murmured against her hot, pliant mouth.