Vi jumped as if he’d slapped her. Matt’s eyes grew big, giving her the distinct impression he’d spoken before he’d engaged his brain.
“This is just sex, remember?”
“Uh, yeah. I thought we could get together after the game.” He was backpedaling.
“I don’t think so. I work Thursday through Saturday.”
“What if I leave the outside French doors on my bedroom unlocked?”
She considered his proposition for a split second. “You’ve got a deal.” She didn’t wait to hear his answer or see his expression. She flounced off and didn’t look back.
Even though she wanted to.
Chapter 8—Plus-Minus
Family dinners weren’t Vi’s thing. Then again, neither was family, at least, not hers.
She’d avoided family dinners ever since her mother’s boyfriend groped her under the table when she was thirteen. She’d moved out shortly after that and in with Aunt Dizzy, an aptly named bleached-blonde cocktail waitress in a biker bar. Living with Aunt Dizzy wasn’t much better, other than she was safe from disgusting men with more hair on their back than their heads. Aunt Dizzy’s boyfriend was the bottle. She was fond of saying, “Who needs men when I can cuddle up to Jack Daniel’s or Jose Cuervo?”
Vi got her first tattoo of a butterfly on her ankle that year. Creative—not. But she’d loved it. Now it was buried amid the flower garden inked all over her body.
Worse than dealing with anyone’s family was lying to said family. Vi hated lying, and doing so was bad enough when it was a necessity, but to lie to Matt’s mother? She wasn’t comfortable or thrilled about this whole fucked-up mess, even if she understood the purpose. Her intuition was screaming loudly in her ear to run like hell or end up being trapped into nannyship. Or whatever the hell you’d call it.
Reluctantly, she walked up the wide front steps to Matt’s home. Her entire extended family could’ve lived comfortably in this place. There went that F word again. She hadn’t seen her family and had no plans to do so. They’d made their choices. She’d made hers. Talk about liars…
Matt threw open the door before she could knock. The boys stood on either side of him, grinning.
“Hi, Vi.” Andy smiled up at her and held out something in his hand. Vi jumped backward as the thing leaped at her.
“Andy, put that frog away.”
Andy scrambled after the frog, and Joey stepped forward. “Hi, Vi. Can I have tattoos like yours?”
Matt eyes grew bigger than saucers, and he choked. “No.”
“But you have a fish tattoo.” Joey’s little chin jutted out stubbornly, and he stared down his father.
“It’s a sockeye, and that was a team thing. No tattoos until you’re old enough to support yourself.” Matt’s voice softened, and he almost smiled. He gave his son a squeeze on the shoulder.
“When will that be?”
“A while, son. Don’t get in a hurry.”
“Okay.” Joey’s belligerence faded with mercurial swiftness.
“Go help Nanna set the table. I bet she has cookies.”
“Okay.” Joey skipped off.
“Sorry.”
Vi laughed. “The look on your face was priceless, like you thought I’d whip out a tattoo machine right on the spot.”
“The thought did occur to me.”
“Next time I’ll bring it.”
He rubbed his arm as if remembering his experience getting the Sockeyes tattoo. “God, please don’t.”
“Make sure you get a real nanny, or your boys will be covered in ink. You’ve been warned.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” He narrowed his eyes, but she had the distinct impression he didn’t take her seriously.
“And piercings,” she added just to jerk his chain some more.
“Vi.” His mother hurried from the kitchen rubbing her hands on her apron and wrapped her in a smothering hug. “So good to see you. I’m ecstatic you’ll be taking care of the boys. I do hope you know what you’re getting into.”
She didn’t, but she played along. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Matt snorted behind his hand, drawing glares from both her and his mother.
His mother hustled Vi off to the kitchen, talking a mile a minute. Vi pretended to listen, but she wasn’t going to be a nanny, so what did it matter if Joey hated asparagus and Andy wouldn’t eat peas? This was a sex favor—as in, a favor to get sex.
Irene seated them at the dinner table and dished up the eggplant lasagna. Andy dug in as if he hadn’t eaten in days and promptly gagged.
“What is this? It’s awful.”
Not to be outdone, Joey tried a bite and spit it out on his plate. “Yuck.”
Matt was slowly chewing his mouthful but looked as if he could hardly bring himself to swallow. He swallowed and gave the boys a sympathetic grimace.
“Don’t spit out your food.” His mother’s sergeant-major stare could level a small city, but Matt’s boys weren’t fazed.
“Can we have hot dogs?” Andy whined, and Joey joined in.
“This is good for you,” Irene insisted. “Vi likes it.”
Three pairs of eyes stared accusingly at her as she lifted her fork to her mouth. “It’s delicious, Irene.”
Irene winked at her. “Absolutely. I’m afraid I’ve spoiled these three with meat-and-potatoes meals. I’m sure you’ll be able to whip up something healthier.”
“I’m not much of a meat eater,” Vi admitted.
The two boys shook their heads, and Matt wisely kept his mouth shut.
“Please, Dad, no. We don’t want to eat that healthy stuff,” Joey pleaded. “I don’t like veggies.”
“Can we have hot dogs?” Andy said again
“No,” Vi and Irene said at the same time, smirking at each other.
“Irene, I only drink one percent organic milk, but you guys will get used to it.”
Joey made a choking sound.
“One percent milk looks and tastes like snot,” Andy protested.
“When have you had it?” Matt asked.
“When Vi was here before visiting Amelia. It’s crappy.”
“Watch your language. Don’t say crappy,” Matt chastised his oldest, though his heart didn’t seem to be in it.
“We’re going to starve to death,” Joey wailed.
“I’ll die,” Andy added.
Vi rolled her eyes and met Matt’s gaze. He chuckled.
“You won’t die. You’ll be fine.”
Joey shook his head and made a gagging sound, flopping to the floor. “It’ll kill me.”
Good thing this was all a farce. Vi wasn’t prepared to take care of two rambunctious, opinionated boys, especially when they only wanted hot dogs or mac and cheese. Vi would never eat such unhealthy crap.
Andy stared at the lasagna on his plate as if he expected it to attack him. “Can I have a dog?”
Vi blinked a few times. That came out of left field.
Matt was shaking his head. “No, not when I’m gone so much. Maybe after the season is over.”
“You said that last year. Vi, you don’t mind us having a puppy, do you?”
“Not at all,” she said wickedly, especially since she wouldn’t be here to clean up its messes.
Matt gave her a nudge under the table, and she smiled sweetly at him. “All little boys should have a dog, don’t you think?”
“No, not right now.”
“Are you ’lergic to dogs like Nanna is?” Joey asked.
“No, I’m not.”
“Then we can get one,” Andy insisted, ignoring his father’s obvious discomfort.
“I love dogs.” Vi winked at Matt. “Doesn’t Cooper’s nephew have that big Newfoundland? They’re adorable puppies, all big and fluffy and cuddly.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Joey bounced up and down in his chair.
“I love dogs!” Andy yelled. “I want a Newf—Newfo—what they are.”
Matt looked if he was going to faint.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Irene added to the melee. “Boys should have a dog. We always had a family dog.”
“I thought you were allergic?” Vi said.
Matt’s mother looked pointedly at her. “That’s what Matt thinks, but it’s nothing, just a little sneezing and sniffling. Not serious. Regardless, I won’t be here full time, so a dog is in order.”
The boys were cheering and pounding their fists in the table. Matt rubbed his hands over his face, looking as if he needed a stiff drink.
“Did dinner not agree with you, dear?” Irene asked her son with a wicked gleam in her green eyes. She patted his arm. Vi was beginning to adore this woman.
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t sound fine. He sounded pissed. Vi ducked her head to hide her smirk.
This family dinner had turned out to be more fun than she could’ve imagined.
* * * *
He’d asked for this. He really had. Enlisting Vi’s help had been a dumbass idea. Had he not been in a lust-induced fog, he’d have never come up with this particularly bad plan. He could’ve asked Brick’s fiancée Amelia to be his fake nanny until he found one. She might’ve even been willing to be his temporary nanny, since she adored the boys and had been a short-term nanny for them before.
The only thing wrong with that picture was where the boys would stay. Amelia wouldn’t want to live here while the team was on road trips. She and Brick lived in a houseboat, big enough for them and Brick’s daughter, but not big enough for two rambunctious boys. No, he couldn’t ask that of her. A few hours here and there were fine, but a week wasn’t.
He retreated to his study while the boys helped Vi and his mom clear the table and load the dishwasher. He put a call in to his agent, Al Greenburg, who also happened to be the agent for several other Sockeyes.
“Hey, Al, did you find a nanny yet?” he asked before Al could even say hello, not that Al would. His agent didn’t believe in niceties. He cut right to the chase.
“I told you, LaRue. I’m not a nanny service. Why you and Brick and half of my clients seem to think I am is beyond me.”
“I’m depending on you,” Matt countered, ignoring Al’s protests.
Al growled something unintelligible, but Matt was certain it was either an insult to his parentage or a slander on his character. Whatever.
“Have Cindy get in touch with me, not my mother, when she finds someone, so I can meet him or her. And, of course, you’ll run a full background and reference check.” Cindy was Al’s assistant in the Seattle area and his complete opposite. She was bubbly and charming and never said no to any client request no matter how outrageous. She had connections galore. Cindy lived full-time in Seattle while Al shared his time between offices in Seattle and New York.
Al muttered more not-so-veiled threats and insults. “But quit asking me. Call Cindy.”
“She doesn’t work twenty-four-seven like you do, and I don’t have her personal cell.”
“No one does.”
Matt blinked a few times. Utterly surprised. “Not even you?”
“Not since she got tired of me waking her up at three a.m. and changed her number.”
“Al, you better not burn this one out. She’s the best you’ve had.”
Al coughed. Few people could keep up with Al’s energy level. Cindy had a calmness about her that made Matt forget she was juggling a dozen things at once and not breaking a sweat. She could pin Al with a simple look, causing him to freeze and shut up, a feat not one of his five wives had managed to master. She was a gem, all right. Judging by the fact that Matt had never seen her wear the same outfit twice, Al paid her well to put up with him.
“I’ll call her tomorrow then. I’m running out of time.”
Al blew out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, call her. Is that all you need? Can I help you find a housekeeper? A landscaper? How about a personal shopper?”
“You do all that for your clients? Yeah, I’d love it. Can you—”
The phone was dead. Matt chuckled. Al might be a cranky bastard at times—most times, in fact—but he was a ruthless agent and a detail freak. Matt appreciated that. Al went over every word of every contract with a critical eye and squeezed out every last penny and perk for his clients.
Matt heard a sound behind him and turned. Vi stood in the doorway. She looked him up and down and licked her lips. Her eyes were hooded, and her lips plumped in a sultry pout. She was hot as hell.
“Am I interrupting anything?”
“Uh, no. Just talking to my agent.”
“I see. Does your agent always hang up on you?”
“How did—” Matt shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Yeah, he did. Seems he doesn’t like being a nanny service.”
“Does he know where to find a good puppy?” she teased with a deep, hearty laugh, which tugged at something previously buried inside him. He met her gaze and found himself smiling despite his lack of appreciation about the puppy ribbing.
“No, I’m certain he doesn’t. Al isn’t an animal person.”
“And you?”
“Me, what?” He played dumb.
“Do you like dogs?” She moved closer. His gaze fixed on those plump red lips. God, he loved that shade of fire-engine red she wore so well.
“I love them.” He swallowed hard and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.
“So do I.” Her tone was husky, as though she’d just gotten out of bed and hadn’t used her voice in a while—except to scream his name. She was close enough he could smell her outdoorsy natural scent headier than the expensive perfume his ex drowned herself in.
“The boys,” he said as she took another step closer.
“What about them?”
Yeah, what about them? His brain stalled out and refused to start again. He touched her cheek, and she shivered. He almost smiled. Vi was hard to rattle, and he’d done it with a simple touch. She rattled him, so one good turn deserved another.
His patience snapped, and he pulled her into his arms. His mouth came down harder than he’d planned, but he couldn’t seem to control himself. She did shit like this to him, made sanity seem like a bad idea. His kisses were bruising, but so were hers.
She pushed him away first, and her timing was impeccable. As he was regaining his composure, Joey spoke from behind him.
“Dad?”
“Uh, yeah, son, what is it?”
Joey’s little face was screwed up into a confused frown, as if he’d seen something he wasn’t sure he should see. “Is something wrong with Vi?”
“Uh, no, not at all. She’s fine.”
Vi didn’t look fine. She looked as if she’d been kissed silly and couldn’t remember her name. She brought a finger up to her lips and touched them.
Joey’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he changed the subject abruptly. “Are you going to come upstairs and read to us?”
“Of course.”
“I should be going.” Vi snapped out of her trance and took the hint, hurrying from the room before he could stop her. He wanted—needed—to make plans to see her again with the desperation of a pathetic man.
By the time he finished reading the boys a story, Vi was long gone.
His mother was tidying up the kitchen and shot him a knowing smile. “Lose something? Or someone?”
“I was just checking to see if Vi was still here.”
“She’s gone. We talked about the boys’ schedules, and all that.” His mother’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure she’s nanny material? Don’t get me wrong. I like her. I even like you with her. But as a nanny? Just not sure.”
His mother had always been able to sniff out dishonesty in her children like a bloodhound after an unfortunate rabbit.
“She’s willing to learn.”
His mother looked skeptical.
“She is,” he insisted.
Irene smiled. “She’ll be good for this family. I just don’t know if this family will be good for her.”
She gave Matt a peck on the cheek and left him to wonder what the hell she meant.
Chapter 9—Hip Check
Vi swayed to the beat of the music as she danced onto the stage. Bright multicolored spotlights illuminated her tattoos. As usual, she wore a faux leather bodysuit unzipped to her navel and barely covering her ass cheeks.
She focused her sultry gaze on the men drooling at the edge of the stage as she always did. The tips were better when a guy thought she was performing just for him.
Wrapping one shapely leg around the pole, Vi leaned backward until her hair grazed the floor. Reaching up, she grasped the pole and climbed it as if she were making love to the cold metal. She danced around it multiple times, contorting her body in ways only a trained dancer could do. The suspense built for several minutes before she gave the men what they wanted—an unobstructed view of her naked body. She tugged the zipper downward until it rested at her crotch. The catcalls and hoots rose to a deafening pitch. Men were pounding on tables and shouting for her to “take it all off.” They were a rowdy crowd tonight because of a rich frat boy’s bachelor party.
Usually, Vi loved the power stripping gave her over men.
Her gaze flickered to an older man seated close to the action. He watched her with the unmistakable concentration of a predator lying in wait for his prey. A chill slid through her. Her gaze swept through the packed Friday crowd, seeing identical expressions on way too many faces. Her stomach rolled, and her palms grew sweaty. She tried to grip the pole and stumbled.
Feeling nervous and self-conscious about being exposed hadn’t happened to Vi since her first few nights a long while ago. She’d always been comfortable with her body and confident of her dancing skills, but something had changed. Tonight she wasn’t so thrilled about the men salivating at the edge of the stage and shouting for her to take it all off. For the first time, what she was doing felt—
Dirty?
She shuddered. Celebrating one’s body was not dirty. Matt was rubbing off on her. Dancing had never bothered her before, but for some reason tonight, exposing her body to anyone but Matt didn’t appeal to her.
Penalty Play (Seattle Sockeyes Hockey) Page 9