by Avery Flynn
A pained look came over his face, and his jaw tightened.
“It wasn’t like that, Lizzie,” he protested. “Not really.”
“Is that so? Then what was it like?” She blew out a breath. “Because the way I remember it, that’s exactly what happened. Although, I’m sure in your mind you’ve managed to twist it all around.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I—” He paused.
“You what?” she demanded. “Let’s hear the story you told yourself.”
“It was a mistake,” he told her. “Walking away from you was a very big mistake. Huge. One I’ve regretted making every day since then.”
Liz snorted. “Yeah, right. You had plenty of chances along the way to tell me that. To make things right. But you were like some kid with a toy he couldn’t let go of. Hockey, hockey, hockey.”
“I tried,” he reminded her. “I called you a bunch of times to see if we could get together and talk.”
“Did you say a bunch of times?” She stared at him, wide-eyed. “I don’t call a handful of casual calls over all these years a bunch of times. And talk about what? You had one topic of conversation—hockey. Period. And then, if I recall, you stopped calling completely.”
His face reddened, and he rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Okay, okay. So I could have been more persistent.”
“Try more honest. More…” She threw up her hands, exasperated. The dummy just couldn’t seem to get it through his head what was wrong with the way he handled things. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You made it very clear to me exactly where I stood in your life scheme of things.”
Pain flashed in his eyes. “I know. I know.” He looked down at the floor then up again, focusing his gaze on her. “I know saying I’m sorry doesn’t do any good. I know telling you what a huge mistake I made won’t help. I’m just hoping you’ll give me another chance here, Lizzie. I have the Cup for the whole day, and I want to share it with you.”
“What makes you think that even interests me?” She dug her fingernails into her palms to maintain outward calm. Now he wanted to share this with her? “You think you can just breeze back into my life and hop on the Liz train again?”
“Aw, Lizzie.”
“And it’s Liz, damn it. Liz, Liz, Liz.”
He held his hands out in a pleading gesture. “I love you. I want the chance to show you. Prove it to you.”
She was so very tempted to let the past go and throw her arms around him. After all, she’d dreamed about him all these years, pining for what they could have had. Then her inner Liz shrieked, No!
“No.” She repeated it out loud. She was not doing this. “Flowers? Really, Matt? You think flowers make up for everything?”
His mouth curved in a lopsided grin. “You always said roses were your favorite.”
“So what? You can’t come back here after all this time and expect me to fall into your arms. You hurt me, Matt. A lot. And a bunch of flowers isn’t going to make up for it.” She picked up the roses and tossed them into the wastebasket. Then she handed him the Cup. “Here. You gave up everything for this. Take it and go.”
For a moment, he didn’t reach for it. Then, with obvious reluctance, he wrapped his arms around it and headed for the door. He opened it but then turned to look back at her. “We aren’t finished here, Lizzie. I want you. I love you. I’m going to make this work.”
“Ha!”
Please get out of here before I make a huge mistake and throw my arms around you.
“You’ll see.”
“And my name is Liz,” she shouted.
With a last look at her, he turned again to leave and was almost knocked back by Dara rushing in from the hall.
“Oh! Sorry.” She stopped short, and her eyes widened as she realized who she had bumped into. “Ohmigod! Matt Vorchak! Hi! My goodness. Are you back in town for good?” She held out her hand. “Dara Flynn. Maybe you remember me from high school? Liz and I were friends. Are friends,” she corrected herself. “Business partners.”
“He’s just leaving,” Liz snapped. “He doesn’t need your whole history. Don’t engage him in conversation.”
Dara looked from Matt to Liz to Matt again. Then she shrugged. “Nice seeing you, Matt.”
“Yeah.” His mouth twisted in a wry grin. “Same here.”
“It’s not nice seeing him,” Liz snapped. “Good-bye, Matt. I need you to walk out that door and right out of my life, something you’re very good at doing.”
For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something. Then he shrugged and headed toward the door again. As he walked out into the hallway, Liz couldn’t help noticing the slight limp. Damn! She’d forgotten for a moment about his career-ending injury. Was that why he returned to San Antonio? Was he settling for her now that he could no longer play the game?
Just then, the door to the offices across the hall was yanked open, and George Flanagan popped out.
“Did I hear someone say Matt Vorchak?”
Matt nodded. “That’s me.”
“Oh, man! Can I get your autograph? Hey! That’s the Cup. How about a picture with it.”
Liz had had enough. She pushed her way past Dara and slammed the door shut. She was tempted to lock it, but they had to leave it open for clients. Instead, she plopped into her desk chair and dropped her head into her hands.
“I can’t believe he just walked in here like nothing had ever happened. As if I’d welcome him with open arms.”
“If you don’t want him, you can pass him along to me,” Dara teased. “That is one fine-looking man. And what’s this?” She reached into the wastebasket and pulled out the discarded roses. “I don’t care how pissed off you are at him. It’s a crime to throw away these roses. Which, by the way, he must have spent major bucks on.”
“Big deal.” Liz flapped a hand at her partner. “If you want them, take them. He can’t buy me back with a bunch of flowers.”
Dara laughed. “Not even very expensive flowers?”
“Not even.”
She made a show of booting up her computer and opening her calendar, all her focus on the screen in front of her.
“Okay. Then, finders keepers. But if a man brought me this many flowers, I’d at least hear what he had to say.”
“I’ve heard what he has to say,” Liz huffed. “It’s why we aren’t together. Period. You know that.”
“Maybe he’s sorry. Maybe he’s been in love with you all these years, and—”
“Oh, please,” Liz interrupted, twirling her chair around to look at her partner. “He’s been in love with hockey and that damn trophy forever. I was just a diversion for him.”
It hurt even to say it. At the time, she’d hoped against hope he’d ask her to be a part of his drive to succeed. Cheer him on. Support him on the bad days and celebrate the good ones with him. But he’d just walked away as if he’d parked her on the shelf until he had time for her again.
“But what if he’s changed? You always said you wanted to be showered with roses. That it was so romantic.”
“I also said I wanted a horse-drawn carriage ride, ice-cold margaritas, and a mariachi band singing me a love song. You know what the chances are for those things to happen. I’ll bet he doesn’t even remember the night we saw that happen and I was bowled over by it. Just because he brought roses doesn’t mean he has a romantic bone in his body.”
Dara looked at her for a long moment then shrugged. “Well, whatever. If you don’t want these flowers, I’m not letting them go to waste. We’ve got some spare vases in the back room. I’ll put them on my desk.”
“Fine because yours is behind mine, so I don’t have to look at them.”
She had just gotten up to dump her cold coffee and get a fresh mug when Dara came hurrying out of the back room.
Liz frowned. “Where are you going? You just got here.”
“I forgot something in my car. I’ll be right back. I’ll take care of the flowers then.”
“I told you. Yo
u can throw them out for all I care.”
Dara tsked. “He already saw you toss them. Now I can rescue them, and he’ll never be the wiser. They are just too gorgeous to trash.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
She wondered if she’d hear from Matt again or if her firm brushoff today would discourage him. Objectively, she was glad he’d realized his dream and sad his injury meant he’d never play again. But he’d chosen to leave her behind, so she couldn’t waste more than a minute feeling sorry for him.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d been hiding in a corner by herself this entire time. Okay, so real love had been missing from her life. Big deal. But she had worked her ass off learning her trade, and now it was paying off. She and Dara hardly had a spare moment with all of their time focused on building their agency and making sure each event went off as well as yesterday’s luncheon.
There, she told herself. She was too busy to be distracted by Matt Asshole Vorchak. Way too busy. She hoped this was his one and only shot and he was out of her life for good.
She turned back to her computer and tried to focus on the calendar she’d brought up. She wanted to have a good idea what they could take on if these new contacts turned into contracts.
5
Matt sat in his car with the Cup, now emptied of its flowers, and tried to think what to do next. He’d approached it all wrong. He realized that now. It was a dumb shit thing to do, leaving the Cup with roses filling its bowl in front of her office door then hiding in the men’s room and watching with the door cracked open until she picked it up and took it inside. What did he think, that she’d be so overwhelmed by the roses she’d throw her arms around him?
He should have listened to Brenna. His big grand gesture had fizzled. But he still had hope. There was a legend going around that whenever a player of the championship team had his day with the Cup, he fell in love. Or found love. Well, he’d already fallen and certainly found it. The problem was he was afraid he’d lost it.
One look at her today and he couldn’t for the life of him think why he’d walked away from her. He had really screwed up. He was determined to get her back now that his stupid brain had finally realized how much he’d lost.
Lizzie. He’d always think of her that way, no matter how many times she changed her name. She was pretty before, but now she was absolutely beautiful. Her rich black hair was an even darker ebony, thicker and fuller, and falling to her shoulders in waves that bounced when she moved her head. He was sure he’d never seen skin that creamy or lips that sculptured. And her eyes, fringed with the darkest, thickest lashes. Today, with the bright-blue sweater she’d worn, they looked an even deeper blue, reminding him of the ocean on a sunny day.
As he’d stood there watching her, taking in the sight of her, his hands had itched to skim the curve of her hips and cup the gorgeous mounds of her breasts. Rub his thumbs over her nipples that had hardened and were very obvious against the soft fabric of her sweater. It was a long time since he’d seen her naked, but the image came back to him as if it were yesterday. The curve of her hips, the darkness of her nipples, the neatly trimmed nest of curls that covered her sex, a curtain over the gateway to paradise.
And now her figure was richer, fuller. He wanted more than anything to just strip her clothes off right there and kiss every inch of her skin. To run his tongue over her and taste her. To pleasure them both as he thrust his tongue inside her and tasted her wetness.
Did she smell just as good now? He bet her lips were just as soft and sweet as they ever were. He wanted to lick them and nip them and—
Cut it out. He wasn’t doing himself any good. He’d had the damnedest time sending a message to his cock that wanted to break out of the restrictions of his fly and offer itself up to her. None of that could be on the table now. First, he had to win her back. Then he could worship her body to his heart’s content. He hoped.
He was still sitting in the parking lot in his SUV when he saw Dara hurrying toward him. She tried to open the door, but when she discovered it was locked, she pounded on the window.
“Let me in for a minute,” she called
Matt swallowed a sigh. What now? Was she going to give him a lecture about how badly he’d treated Lizzie? He’d already raked himself over the coals. He’d had plenty of time during the long drive from New Orleans to chew his own ass out and curse himself for being a self-centered schmuck.
And damn it, she’d always be Lizzie to him.
He popped the lock. Dara yanked the door open and hitched herself into the passenger seat.
“Before you start,” he told her, “there’s nothing you can say I haven’t already said to myself. I fucked up. Royally. Big time. I always wanted to be good at something. Who knew I’d excel at that.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Crap.”
“Well!” There was a hint of amusement in her voice. “It appears you’re very good at throwing a pity party for yourself, too.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He slid a glance at her. “So what can I do for you?”
“Before I say anything else, be aware that Liz St. John is my best friend in the whole world. If you screw her over again, there won’t be a place for you to hide anywhere in the universe.”
“Okay. I hear you. Loud and clear.” He shifted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable.
“I personally think she should throw you out the door like she did before and dust her hands. But women aren’t always smart where men are concerned.” She snorted. “Don’t repeat that either.”
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “I won’t repeat anything you say. Now or ever. But what’s going on here, Dara?”
She blew out a breath. “You have a chance to get her back, Matt. A real chance, if you don’t blow it. She’s never gotten over you, despite her attitude. I know she reads the sports section, and…” She looked around as if expecting someone to be listening outside the car. “And she also watched your games on television when we got them here.”
His heart did a little backflip. “My games? She watched my games? Really?”
“Down, boy.” Dara scowled at him. “This all depends on you focusing on her and not yourself.”
“But at least the door is open a little, right?” he pleaded. “A little while ago, I figured she never wanted to see my face again.”
“And that will be true unless you pay careful attention to what I’m going to tell you.”
“I’m listening. With every pore in my body. Tell me what I need to do.”
“Okay, then. Here’s the deal.”
Ten minutes later, he watched Dara walk back to the office and cranked the engine. He tore out of the parking lot so fast his tires squealed. He could do this. He and the Cup. Maybe he wouldn’t be the one to break the legend after all.
But he’d need Brenna’s help to pull everything off.
The offices where his sister worked as a paralegal were in downtown San Antonio. He hit the interstate and pushed the speed limit all the way. Then he wasted more time finding a space in the closest parking garage. By the time he rushed into the law offices, almost thirty minutes had passed and he was getting a little nuts.
The reception area was carpeted and spacious, with comfortable couches along two walls where people were obviously waiting for their appointments. The woman sitting at the dark-walnut reception desk stared at him.
“May I help you, sir?”
He stopped and gulped in a lungful of air. He probably looked deranged, not the impression he wanted to make on Brenna’s bosses and coworkers. He took another deep breath and was about to ask where Brenna Vorchak was when her voice cut through the air.
“Matt?” She hurried in from the wide hallway to the left, a stack of folders in her arms. “Matt, what are you doing here?”
He smiled at the woman behind the desk and gestured at Brenna. “My sister.”
“Your very puzzled sister.” She looked at the woman. “I’ve got this, Sandy. Come on, Matt.” She smiled ap
ologetically at the waiting people, grabbed his arm, and towed him down the hallway to the small office where she worked. Pointing to a chair, she ordered, “Sit. Talk.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tried a grin on for size, hoping to erase the scowl on her face. Then the grin disappeared. “But I need you to help me, Brenna. I wouldn’t just barge in here otherwise.”
She glared at him. “Did you screw up with Liz already?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I have a good-luck fairy who told me what to do, only I need your help. I can’t do this alone.”
Brenna sighed. “Mattie, I’d love to help you, but I can’t just walk out of here in the middle of the day—”
She was interrupted by a knock on the door, then it opened and a man in a carefully tailored suit stepped in. Matt figured he was one of her bosses.
“Brenna?” He glanced at Matt. “Sandy buzzed me and said she thought you might have a problem, so I—” He looked at Matt again and blinked. “Damn! Matt Vorchak.” He held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Saw your excellent play when The Rage won the Cup.”
“Uh, thanks.” Matt rose to take the man’s hand.
“Charles Bandrich. One of the partners here.” He glanced at Brenna. “Your sister is one of our bright shining stars. We’re very lucky to have her.”
“She’s definitely a winner,” Matt agreed, ignoring Brenna’s blush. “Listen, sorry to barge in here like this, but I have a kind of a problem. I was hoping to get Brenna to give me a little assist—”
“And I was just about to tell him I am swamped today,” Brenna broke in. “No problem.”
Bandrich shook his head. “Are you kidding? Your brother needs you. Go. Take the day. I know what’s on your plate, and it can all wait.”
“Oh, well, thank you, sir.” She fidgeted in place.
“And, Matt? If there is anything this firm can ever do for you, just give us a holler. We’re all fans.”