Praise for the Contemporary Romance Novels
of Maureen Smith
“Smith is a master crafter of sensually robust, endearing, and page-turning romantic fiction” — USA Today on Inferno
“Maureen Smith has a special gift with words” — Brenda Jackson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author
“A highly entertaining story with elements of comedy, cooking, intense sexual chemistry and hot romance” — Romantic Times on Recipe for Temptation, Top Pick
“…a light, funny romance that has you cheering for the hero and heroine to be together…a must read!” — Urban Reviews on Recipe for Temptation
“…once you’ve dived in with both feet, falling in love with this couple and watching them on their journey back to each other is riveting, endearing, and addictive” — USA Today on Seducing the Wolf
“…a spicy Chicago entrée with erotic seasoning” — Library Journal on Whatever You Like
“…a spicy boy-meets-girl tale that will keep you turning the pages…Make sure you wear flame-proof gloves!” — Romantic Times on Whatever You Like
“…reintroduces a family that is as enticing and raucous as it gets” — Romantic Times on Any Way You Want It
“The sex scenes are steamy and primal, and readers will want to read them again and again” — Romantic Times on Tempt Me at Midnight
“…one of those books that does everything right. The characters are likable, the story moves at a brisk pace, and the chemistry between the hero and heroine is red hot” — Romance Reviews Today on A Guilty Affair
“Smith does a masterful job bringing Warrick and Raina from sworn enemies to lovers, and the trip is so intriguing the story is hard to put down!” — Romantic Times on Touch of Heaven, Top Pick
WICKED GAMES
Copyright © 2015 by Maureen Smith
Published by Wordsmith Enterprises
Cover Design: Covers by Kellie
First Electronic Edition: December 2015 (first appeared as a short story in 12 Alphas, 12 Months box set released July 2015)
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For questions and comments about this book, please contact Maureen Smith at [email protected]. Visit her official website at www.maureen-smith.com.
Table of Contents
Reviews
Copyright
Dedication
The Score
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Playlist
Coming Next
Also by Maureen Smith
About the Author
To everyone who knows that the language of love is universal
The Score
The Denver Rebels have a date with destiny. After a heartbreaking loss knocked them out of the NHL finals last year, they’re on a mission to win at all costs and be immortalized on the Stanley Cup. Loaded with talent and drive, the Rebels are the team to beat this year.
For Reid, Viggo, Hunter, and Logan, the road to glory will be paved with challenges on and off the ice. Romance awaits them through sizzling chance encounters and the return of a childhood flame.
Will these hockey hotties win the Cup without losing their hearts?
Let the games begin in five, four, three, two….
Pregame
Prologue
Six years earlier
Ottawa, Ontario
Reid Holden swallowed nervously, wiped damp palms on his dark suit pants and glanced around the crowded arena. It was packed with hockey fans, young and old, who had come out to watch the NHL Draft. An electric buzz of excitement hung in the air as everyone waited to see which young NHL hopeful would be chosen next.
It was the biggest day of Reid’s life.
Everything he’d done from the moment he laced up his first pair of Bauers had been leading up to this important day. All the years of hard work and practice, the triumphant wins and agonizing losses. The blood, sweat and tears that had been shed. The black eyes, bruised ribs and broken bones that had required trips to the emergency room.
All of it came down to this day. This defining moment.
What happened here in this arena could determine the course of the rest of his life.
Sobered by the thought, he restlessly bounced his right leg, his stomach churning with nerves and anticipation.
As he cast another glance over the crowd, his gaze landed on a blond pretty boy sitting at the other end of the row. He recognized the kid as Viggo Sandström, a top draft prospect from Sweden who played center. Reid had seen some of his game footage, and he’d been thoroughly impressed. Sandström was a scoring machine with sick puck-handling skills and a killer slap shot. Reid definitely wouldn’t mind having him as a teammate.
The Swede was surrounded by several family members. He was so nervous, he looked like he was going to throw up. Reid felt an immediate sense of kinship.
When their eyes met, he gave a small head nod.
The Swede nodded back.
Reid felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his mother smiling at him. “Nervous?”
His grin was sheepish. “Just a little.”
She laughed and gave his hand a warm, reassuring squeeze.
His father, seated on his other side, put an arm around his shoulders. “Here we go, son.”
Reid returned his attention to the stage to watch as the team president of the Denver Rebels strode to the podium and cleared his throat.
An expectant energy buzzed through the arena.
“With the second overall pick in the NHL Draft, the Denver Rebels are proud to select Reid Holden from Boston College.”
A roar of cheers erupted around Reid.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
With a dazed grin on his face, he got slowly to his feet.
He was stunned, although he realized he probably shouldn’t be. Coming into the draft, he already knew that many teams were interested in him. He’d been a standout player in college and had won the Hobey Baker Award, which was hockey’s equivalent to the Heisman Trophy. All the experts and talking heads had confidently predicted that he would go early in the first round.
But nothing could have prepared him for the sheer enormity of this moment. There were no words to describe it.
Everyone was trying to hug him at once. His mother and two sisters were clapping and squealing with excitement. His younger
brother pounded him boisterously on the back.
Grinning ecstatically, Reid hugged his mother hard, kissed her cheek and thanked her for all the sacrifices she’d made for him.
Then his father grabbed him in a big bear hug. As he pulled away, he cupped Reid’s cheek in his large palm and smiled. His blue eyes were bright with unshed tears, and his deep voice was husky with emotion. “Congratulations, son. I’m so damn proud of you.”
Reid beamed. “Thanks, Dad.”
His father grinned. “Go on and get that sweater.”
“Yes, sir.”
Reid made his way down to the stage to a thunderous round of applause and cheers. The sound of people chanting his last name sent goose bumps down his spine. It was totally surreal.
As he neared the stage, he removed his suit jacket as instructed and handed it off to an attendant. Then he headed up to the podium, where several members of Denver Rebels management were waiting to congratulate him. He went down the line of suits, shaking hands and receiving hearty welcomes to the team. Cameras were flashing all around them, lighting up the arena.
The team president presented him with his jersey, which had his last name sewn across the back.
Number six. That was his new number. Six.
His chest swelled with excitement. Holy shit. This was really happening!
He slipped on the jersey and shoved a Rebels baseball cap onto his head. The applause grew louder, cameras flashing and popping off in every direction. Grinning from ear to ear, he posed for a bunch of group photos with team management.
As he stared out into the cheering crowd, his throat tightened at the sight of his family on their feet, their faces shining with pride and joy. All of them were crying, even his wisecracking brother.
But it was the tears streaming down his father’s face that really got Reid choked up.
You did it, son, Roark mouthed proudly.
We did it, Reid mouthed back.
His father smiled and patted his heart.
Reid grinned, bursting with satisfaction and excitement.
He was officially an NHL player. It was a dream come true, the fulfillment of a lifelong goal.
He felt on top of the world.
Nothing else could give him the same high, the incredible thrill rush he got from playing hockey.
Hockey was his first love.
And it always would be.
First Period
1
Present Day
“Are you sure this won’t take too long?” Nadia Warner asked, following her twin brother toward the entrance to the ice rink where the Denver Rebels were practicing that evening.
Nelson laughed, glancing over his shoulder at her. “How many times are you gonna ask me that question?”
“I just—” Nadia broke off as a man strode past and jostled her without bothering to apologize.
“Excuse you,” she tossed after him.
He didn’t even glance back.
She scowled. Obnoxious hockey fans.
At the entrance to the ice rink, Nelson flashed his press pass to the security guard, who smirked and waved them through. The smirk raised Nadia’s hackles, although her brother was undoubtedly used to it. As a sports reporter for one of the smallest newspapers in Denver, Nelson didn’t command the same respect as his peers at The Denver Post. Even in an industry plagued by declining circulation and shrinking profits, reporters at obscure newspapers would always rank the lowest on the totem pole.
As Nadia and her brother entered the ice rink, she was surprised to see the crowd of spectators that had come out to watch the team practice. She had never attended a professional hockey game and knew next to zilch about the sport. So she couldn’t imagine caring enough to willingly sit through an hour or more of practice. If it weren’t for her brother, she wouldn’t be there at all.
She and Nelson had been on their way to a bar to meet some friends for drinks when his editor, Tanner Corrigan, called to tell him that the reporter who usually covered the Denver Rebels had had a family emergency. So it was up to Nelson to attend the team’s final practice before their season opener against the Minnesota Wild.
Nadia wasn’t happy about the sudden change of plans. After a long day of visiting high schools as a college recruiter, she’d been looking forward to unwinding over cocktails with her friends. Watching a bunch of overpaid jocks chase a puck around an ice rink wasn’t her idea of a good time. But she’d suck it up and be a good little sport for her brother’s sake. After all, what were twins for?
They found first row seats in one corner, which gave them an unobstructed view of the entire rink. The players were going through some sort of passing and scoring drill on the ice. They looked huge in their helmets and pads and black jerseys. Huge and intimidating.
Since Nadia didn’t watch hockey, she didn’t know any of their names or the positions they played. Well, except maybe for Reid “The Rocket” Holden, the team’s star defenseman and resident bad boy. Every Coloradoan knew who he was. His ruggedly handsome image was plastered on billboards and banners across the state. On the ice, he was celebrated for his explosive speed, scoring prowess and ruthless physicality. His reputation for delivering fierce body checks and bone-crushing hits had earned him the adoration of fans and the grudging respect of opponents and critics.
Nadia found herself scanning the ice rink for the superstar’s number six jersey. Or was it number nine? She couldn’t remember.
“Who’re you looking for?”
“No one,” she lied with a shrug, watching as her brother pulled out his trusty reporter’s notebook.
With his baby-smooth brown skin, black-framed eyeglasses, angular jaw and wiry build, Nelson was handsome in a nerdy sort of way. He’d never been popular or outgoing, but he had a dry wit that made people laugh and put them at ease. While Nadia was prone to bouts of pessimism, her brother could find humor in even the most serious situations. He and Nadia had been inseparable since birth. He was her wombmate, her best friend, her better half. She couldn’t imagine her life without him.
Smiling softly, she reached over and brushed a hand over his misshapen Afro. “You need a haircut.”
“So you keep telling me,” Nelson said distractedly, watching the hockey players on the ice. “You know how busy I’ve been since football season started. I haven’t had time to go to the barber. Today was the first day I’ve had off in weeks.”
Nadia smiled wryly. “And look where you are. Sitting rinkside at the Rebels’ hockey practice instead of knocking back half-price mojitos at happy hour.”
He chuckled. “What can I say? Duty calls.”
Nelson covered high school and college football for the Denver Dispatch. It was the perfect gig for a guy who’d always loved sports. Growing up, he’d dabbled in everything from baseball to hockey to soccer. Unfortunately for him, enthusiasm was no substitute for talent. When he reached high school and failed to make the football or basketball team, he’d been forced to face the hard, cold reality that athletic stardom simply wasn’t in the cards for him. Since he would never achieve fame and glory on a playing field, he did the next best thing: He became a sports reporter. And he was a damn good one too. As far as Nadia was concerned, the Denver Dispatch didn’t deserve him.
Glancing around the arena, she marveled, “I can’t believe this many people showed up for practice. On a weeknight, at that.”
Nelson smiled. “You know the Rebels have a diehard fan base. And they usually practice in the mornings, not evenings.”
“So why are they practicing tonight?”
“It’s a special tradition. Several years ago, there was a water leak in the arena that forced the team to postpone practice until the evening. It happened two days before the regular season started, and a lot of fans showed up for practice that night. It must have brought the Rebels good luck, because they went on to beat the Bruins in the first game. I mean they destroyed them,” Nelson recalled with a grin. “As a result, the team began holding a lig
ht evening practice two days before the start of each season. And since then they’ve won every season opener.”
Nadia chuckled. “Superstitious much?”
Nelson grinned. “I’ve never met a hockey player who wasn’t.”
“Hmm. I’ll take your word for it.” Nadia sighed, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs. “Not to sound like a whiny brat, but are you absolutely sure we won’t be stuck here for hours?”
“We won’t,” Nelson assured her with amused patience. “Once practice is over, I’ll need to interview some of the players and get a few quotes for my column. Then we can go grab dinner. My treat.”
Nadia grinned. “Now you’re talking.”
While Nelson watched the Rebels run through their practice drills, Nadia took out her cell phone to check her email. Since she was stuck there until the team finished practicing, she might as well make good use of her time.
She had several work-related messages, including one from a colleague who had questions about one of her design job requests. She responded to his message, then hopped on Snapchat to remind her student subscribers about an upcoming college fair.
Suddenly she felt an odd sensation over her skin, a prickle of awareness that made her glance up.
That was when she saw Reid Holden skating up the ice toward her.
Her mouth went strangely dry. Phone forgotten in her hand, she stared at the Rebels’ star defenseman.
He was skating along the boards, pushing his puck out in front with the blade of his stick. Locks of thick dark hair poked out from under his helmet. His square jaw was shadowed with dark stubble that gave him a gritty appeal. He looked tall and imposing on the ice, and his shoulders were so broad they would have stretched the fabric of his jersey without the pads.
Wicked Games (Denver Rebels) Page 1