She moved in closer to the table, sipping her wine and trying to look like she belonged. Maybe if she could get close enough to him, there would be some lull or some bit of excitement when someone actually won some money, something that would pull attention away from him long enough for her to deliver her warning and be gone.
She hated this, hated exposing herself this way. To him. But also she risked this getting back to her boss. She really could lose her job, and the thought left her more than a little sad. Loving what she did and getting fired because of what she was would suck.
Moving in as close behind Alexander as she dared without calling attention to herself, she hovered there for another ten minutes, feeling more and more awkward as the seconds ticked by, hope of being able to do this thing and get out starting to fade.
Then a noise from across the room startled her and she turned in the direction of a growing scene. A woman, the romance writer Melinda Gould she realized with a start, was straightening her skirt at the bottom of the staircase and exchanging some pretty interesting words with someone else Nathalie couldn’t see from her place in the crowd.
She realized quite suddenly, though, that the novelist had given her just the opportunity she needed. Every eye in the room was turned in her direction, and the crowd was edging closer to better see the action. Leaving Alexander in a very small bubble of isolation.
Moving in quickly, Nathalie stepped close to his elbow and rose up to whisper in his ear. “He’s going to kill you if you’re not careful. You have to watch out for yourself, do what you need to, to protect yourself. He won’t just hurt you, Alexander, he’ll kill you.” She swallowed and without realizing what she was doing, touched his hand. “Don’t let him.”
He faced her, his brows drawn down, frowning fiercely. She didn’t wait to hear his reaction to her warning. She spun away and lost herself in the still-milling crowds, making a beeline for the caterer’s kitchen and a back door.
Damn, damn, damn. She’d hoped he wouldn’t actually see her. But maybe he wouldn’t recognize her. A small part of her kept hoping against hope she could do this and still keep her job. If he didn’t know who delivered the warning, he wouldn’t be able to ask her any more questions about it, or have her tossed out on her ass for being nuts.
She bumped into a burly man charging out the kitchen door, the catering manager she noted, and apologized, but he ignored her, rushing off somewhere himself. A quick glance over her shoulder had her heart beating triple time and another series of curses chanted through her head. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He was following her.
And he did not look happy.
Desperate, she scurried through the kitchen, practically running for the exit. If she could just make it out of the building, she could disappear into the pedestrian traffic and be back on the subway heading home before Alexander reached the street.
Unfortunately, she had never been that lucky.
Chapter Two
Alexander’s pulse pounded as he followed the woman through the kitchens. She glanced back again and this time he was positive he knew her. What the hell was going on?
“Nathalie,” he called. “Stop.”
She picked up her pace and her shoulders hunched. If she thought she was getting away without explaining what she’d said to him, she was sorely mistaken. He stretched out his stride and caught up to her just as she was about to exit the back door. He stopped her escape with a hand on her shoulder, firm but gentle—until he knew whether his favorite masseuse was in league with the bastard trying to bribe him.
He couldn’t guarantee being gentle if she was.
“Where do you think you’re going? After that ominous warning? Did Johnson send you?”
“Johnson?” she asked, without turning to face him.
The fact that she wouldn’t looked at him pissed him off. He spun her around. “Don’t play stupid. You just told me he was going to kill me. Don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know anyone named Johnson,” she said, finally looking up at him.
“Then who were you warning me about?”
“I have no idea. I just know you’re in danger.”
“How?”
She swallowed and scanned the milling staff who were trying to pretend they weren’t paying attention to the argument. “I just… It doesn’t matter. Believe me, don’t believe me.” She looked him in the eye for a split second. “Just stay safe.”
Then she spun away again, freeing herself from his hold and slipping out the door before he could stop her. Oh no, she was not going to run away now.
He slammed out after her, catching her before she’d gone far enough to disappear into the Saturday night New York City crowds. This time he grabbed her arm and held tight. “Listen, I don’t know what this game is about. But you can tell the person who sent you to back the fuck off. I can’t be bought.”
She scowled, the expression furrowing ridges in her smooth forehead. “Mr. Semenov, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Someone is trying to buy you? Another team?”
“You think the Empires would trade me now?”
A very slight smile slipped past her wary expression. “No. Not for all the money in the NHL.”
He studied her closely, trying to read the lies in her story. She was warning him that someone would kill him. She had to know what was going on. But she looked so confused.
With a grunt of frustration, he dropped his hold on her and ran a hand through his hair. “You really have no idea who Johnson is?”
She shook her head.
“Then who did send you?”
“No one.”
She heaved a sigh and turned to watch the traffic inching by. Horns blared despite the noise laws, and the sharp, cold scent of city wafted across his face.
“Listen,” she said when the horns quieted, “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. But… Well, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got killed and I could have stopped it.” She wetted her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone.”
He focused in on her mouth, a generous mouth he’d frequently admired. “You’re afraid of getting fired?”
“Among other things,” she muttered, almost too quietly to hear over the traffic and shouting pedestrians. She shrugged and said, “You should get back. The women will miss you.” For the first time that evening, she smiled, real and genuine.
And Alex was reminded sharply why he’d always been fascinated by this particular woman. She was beautiful, but in an earthy, natural way. Her long dark hair hung in easy, thick waves, her face was barely made-up, and her dress was almost demure with its long sleeves and high neck. So unlike the slinky numbers most of the women inside were wearing. But the red silk skimmed over her generous breasts, hugged her little waist and flared out around her curvy hips. Her heels brought her nearly to his height, and she carried herself with a casual, unconscious grace.
He’d seen her in the crowds earlier that night and had to blink back a moment of shock. At the rehab center, she wore ugly tan slacks and a baby blue polo shirt that did not accentuate her natural sex appeal at all. He’d always suspected that under her uniform her body was made for sex, but seeing her in that red dress confirmed it. She was a walking erotic dream. And the more he considered the lovely swell of her breasts, the less he remembered of their conversation.
Get a grip, Alex. She’s probably lying about Johnson. She’s probably the slob’s girlfriend.
He clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything to send her running into the crowds. When she continued to stand there staring up at him, waiting for him to say something, he felt his pulse speed. He could lose himself in her dark eyes. So much for getting a grip. “They won’t even notice I’m gone,” he said, nodding back toward the kitchen door.
She snorted. “Right. Beyond the fact that the women who wouldn’t leave you alone all night will notice, you’re you. And everyone who paid good mon
ey to come to this event will want a picture taken with the Empires’ star goalie. Go back. But be careful. Stay out of dark alleys. Or empty buildings. Or… Well to be honest, I…” She bit her lip and her eyes widen. “I mean, I’ll see you next week. At the Center.”
She slipped away, disappearing quickly in the crowds.
He considered the passing traffic a few minutes longer, determined not to wait until next week to continue their conversation. She didn’t want him to tell anyone she’d given him a what? A message? A warning? She didn’t want him to talk to anyone about this. Which meant she wouldn’t be any more forthcoming at the Center than she’d been just now.
He’d have to get her outside of work, somewhere private. He wanted answers, and he had no intention of letting her slip past him so easily. He’d earned his nickname, The Wall, for a reason.
As the cold finally seeped in through his tuxedo jacket, he returned to the now-closed kitchen door and ducked back inside. Only as the chill numbing his hands and face started to thaw did he realize Nathalie hadn’t been wearing a coat.
She was going to freeze on the way home, something that bothered him more than he thought it probably should. But more importantly, if she’d left a coat at the check counter, he now had an excuse to contact her and bribe her into a private meeting. No one wanted to be without a coat in February in New York.
The irony of the fact that he intended to use bribery against a woman who could be working with the man trying to bribe him was not lost on him.
Chapter Three
Nathalie slid into the coffee shop booth across from Alex, feeling like an idiot. Forgetting her coat at the event had been a stupid lapse, but she couldn’t believe he’d noticed. She didn’t actually get cold very easily. Especially when she was upset or angry. Her body temperature rose and her palms hit the heat level of boiling water if she didn’t stop the process. She wore a coat to blend in and make sure no one noticed anything weird about her. But she didn’t actually need it most of the time.
He handed the long, black wool coat to her, and she bundled it up on the booth seat. “Thank you,” she muttered.
She knew why he’d gone to the trouble of collecting her coat. It wasn’t out of some altruistic sense of chivalry. He didn’t trust her, didn’t believe her, and wanted to grill her on what she’d said to him last night. Her coat was an excuse.
And she couldn’t have refused his offer to return the coat today because then he might bring it to the Center. There would be questions. Difficult to answer questions. So with a sense of resignation and dread, she’d agreed to meet him at this Upper East Side burger joint, hoping the crowds would keep him from asking too much. As usual, the place was packed. But the bastard had managed to get them a booth at the back of the first floor where they’d have some semblance of privacy.
“You must have been cold going home,” he said, as he motioned to the waitress. “Coffee, please.”
He glanced at Nathalie with raised brows. She nodded.
“Two cups,” he told the waitress. She nodded, smiling at him like he was a movie star, and hurried away to get their order. “So?”
“What?” she asked, still thinking about the moony-eyed look the waitress had tossed at him. She couldn’t blame the woman. Alexander Semenov was gorgeous even in the flat diner light. He was casually dressed in jeans and a sweater that managed to accent his muscular physique without actually clinging to his muscles. The purple color of the sweater sharpened his blue eyes, leaving her a little stunned as she stared at him. Yeah, she had great sympathy for the waitress. If he looked at the woman at the wrong time with those eyes, they were going to end up with laps full of hot coffee.
“So were you very cold getting home?” he repeated, calling her back to the conversation and away from an examination of his mouth.
“I was fine. Subway’s warm.”
“You live far from your stop?”
“Close enough. Why did you make me come here?”
“I want answers. You know that.”
She slumped against the backrest. “I know. I was just hoping you’d forget all that stuff—except for the part about being safe.”
“I’m not that easy.”
She almost smiled, but his serious expression made her humor evaporate. The waitress chose that moment to settled thick white mugs of coffee in front of them. They didn’t talk until she’d finished setting out the little metal carafe of milk and the white ceramic holder festooned with sugar and sweetener selections.
“Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked, her full attention on Alex.
“Not just yet. Thank you.” He smiled up at her briefly, long enough to be polite but not so long as to encourage her attention. Then he stared back at Nathalie.
The full force of his focus was difficult to take without fidgeting in her seat, but she managed. She cupped the coffee mug in her hands and allowed the heat building in her palms to warm the drink a few extra degrees. She liked her coffee scorching. The scent was a little dull and watered down, so she was going to need it hot to swallow it.
When they were relatively alone again, Alex said, “You need to tell me how you know I’m in danger.”
No I don’t. She almost said the snarky comment aloud. She didn’t need to do anything. Except she had felt compelled to warn him. She had only herself to blame for being in this awkward situation. That and her stupid vision. But she’d stopped resenting the visions a long time ago.
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
She looked around the crowded diner. She really didn’t want to say this out loud here. “Listen,” she said without facing him, “I love my job. Really, really love my job.”
“You’re afraid what you say will get you fired?”
“Just being here with you could be a threat to my career.” She snorted and faced him. “And someone is going to see us. I’ll be lucky if a picture of us together doesn’t end up on the internet. Once my boss finds out…”
“She doesn’t have to know about this.”
“You going to keep it secret?”
“What was the last rumor you heard about me?”
She paused. “I don’t really pay attention to gossip about the team.”
A slight smile lifted his mouth and Nathalie was struck by just how sexy that mouth was. She swallowed back her moment of distraction to pay attention to what he had to say.
“What was the last rumor you heard about Chris Emerson?”
“You mean that stuff about him and the romance novelist last night?” she asked and then realized what she’d just admitted. “Fine. Okay. Some of the gossip gets to me. But—”
“When did you last hear anything about me?” he interrupted.
She thought about it, sipping her coffee as she considered. “I can’t remember,” she said finally. “The only thing I’ve ever heard about you has to do with your time on the ice and the children’s charities you support.”
“There’s a reason for that. I’m private, very private.”
“I know.”
“And I protect that privacy. At the moment, you’re included in that circle. This meeting won’t get back to your boss.”
She stared at him for a long minute, not immediately responding. “So no one here will report this coffee to my boss. But all it will take is one word from you.” She held up a hand for silence when he started to speak. “You never said you wouldn’t tell Joanne about this. If I tell you the truth, you could go to her, and I’ll be fired. If I don’t tell you anything, you might still go to her and have me fired. You think I’m involved in some way, and you’re trying to decide what to do about that. You won’t believe the truth.” She shook her head. “Don’t pretend you will when you don’t know what I’m going to say. You won’t.”
She set her cup down and let out a long breath. “I risked a lot to give you that warning. Take it, don’t take it. It’s your choice. I would prefer you didn’t get killed. That’s the rea
son I said anything at all. But I’m not going to discuss this anymore in public where anyone can see and hear us. Good luck.” She dropped a couple of dollars on the table to cover her coffee. “Thank you for returning my coat.”
He reached across to grab her arm when she started to stand. “We’re not done talking.”
“We have to be because there’s nothing left to say.”
“I’m not letting you off without an explanation. I promise not to tell your boss anything, whether I believe you or not. If you’re not involved, you have my word this conversation doesn’t go beyond us.”
Still crouched, halfway out of the booth, she glanced around the diner and raised her brows. “Right.”
“You want privacy, this is as private as you’re going to get unless you want to come back to my place.”
“I’m no puck bunny, Semenov.”
He actually smiled at that. His smile was lethal. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
To keep from rolling her eyes, she dropped back into the seat. Her thighs were hurting from the crouch anyway.
She had to admit Alex wouldn’t be hitting on her anytime soon. She wasn’t exactly the gorgeous model type that the hockey players usually went out with. And she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself if he got aggressive, though she was certain he wouldn’t. But despite his assurances that they were safe from observation, being seen entering and leaving his home was bound to get attention. She was not going back to his place, only to be kicked out when she told him she had a vision.
“If you’d feel safer, we could go to your place. I’ll still be on my best behavior.”
Hmm, that was something to consider. No one would think to be camped out in her neighborhood waiting for Alexander Semenov to show up. She could take him in through the side gate instead of through the main door so fewer people noticed them. And in all likelihood no one would recognize him because they wouldn’t be expecting to see him.
Going All In Page 9