As he disappeared down the stairs, she leaned against her doorframe because her knees were shaking. She was way in over her head with him. She’d rather face the man trying to kill him. That guy she could at least slam with a fireball to make herself feel better.
Chapter Eight
Nathalie concentrated on cleaning her apartment Friday after work, pretending she wasn’t waiting for Alex’s phone call. He wasn’t due back until very late. Getting giddy and excited about something that wasn’t going to happen for hours yet wasn’t productive.
But then her week hadn’t been very productive. She’d spent four days trying not to think about Alex and failing. She watched the Wednesday game and wasn’t remotely surprised when it was another shutout. The Wall’s streak continued. She had the TV in her kitchen tuned to tonight’s game, despite promising herself she wasn’t going to watch.
And every time the announcer’s voice rose, she ran into the kitchen to see what was happening. By the third period, she gave up pretending and sat at her counter with a glass of wine, watching as Alex managed yet another shutout and the Empires scored three goals.
Surprisingly, Alex gave an on-ice interview after, talking about his streak. He was humble and made of point of giving credit to the players who were scoring well. “You can’t win games just by keeping the puck out of the home net,” he said. “You still have to score on the other end. And the guys are getting that done.”
She smiled and turned the TV off once he was no longer onscreen. Nice as well as sexy. A deadly combination.
She dove back into scrubbing down her home. Then she showered and changed into her meditation clothes—brown yoga pants and a green t-shirt. Finally, she settled in front of her altar. A little meditation would help her ground and center. And she needed to center before she talked to Alex again.
Touching her finger to the various candles on her wooden workspace, she let some of her nervous energy out in lighting the wicks. She lit the coal in her incense burner and dropped some sandalwood resin onto it, breathing in deeply when it started to spill heady smoke into the air.
She waited until the smoke had cleared a little, letting the calming effects of the sandalwood sink into her pores. Then, with an effort, she closed her eyes and allowed her brain to quiet. It took longer than normal to focus and release her anxiety, but she managed it, falling into that peaceful place where she felt centered, connected, and whole.
When her cell phone rang, she jumped. A quick glance at the clock told her it was a lot later than she realized.
She scrambled to the coffee table to pick it up. “Hello?”
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
The sound of his voice decimated all the progress she’d made in calming her spirit. She was giddy and nervous again instantly. “No. Night owl, remember?”
“Good. Tomorrow, do you want to meet for lunch or dinner? Or both.”
“Why both?”
“Plenty of time to explore the area that way.”
Spend most of the day with him? That didn’t sound like a good idea. On the other hand, the quicker they located the place she’d seen him shot, the sooner she could get out of this disastrous situation. “What time for lunch?”
“How about twelve thirty? At the BBC. I can walk you around my usual routes from there.”
“Okay. That won’t be too early for you? You don’t want to rest more?”
“I’ll be up at seven.”
She groaned because she’d heard the smile in his voice. “You are a crazy man, Semenov. See you tomorrow. Oh, by the way, great game tonight. And Wednesday.”
“You watched?”
Since he couldn’t see her, she felt free to roll her eyes. “Of course. I’m a big fan. Of the Empires. Tomorrow at twelve thirty. Sleep well.”
“You, too. Try to sleep before the sun comes up.”
“We’ll see.” She was grinning when she hung up.
*****
She woke earlier than she usually would have on a Saturday morning and spent the better part of an hour deciding what to wear. She felt ridiculous for putting in so much effort, but she justified it with the idea that—despite his best efforts—they might still end up photographed, and she didn’t want to look like an idiot.
But she also didn’t want him to think she was dressing up for him. Which was why the choice was so difficult. In the end, she went with dark-wash jeans and a fitted, patterned blouse that was relaxed enough to look like something she’d wear normally.
She met him outside the main entrance to the Brooklyn Bank Center. And because she arrived first, she took some time to study the area. Nothing immediately next to the arena jumped out at her.
She almost missed Alex approaching because she was busy considering what she knew of the area. When she did notice him, she started to return his smile of greeting but stopped. “What’s wrong? You’re walking funny. You got hurt last night?”
His grin turned crooked. “I thought I was hiding it well. I took one too many hard hits. Woke up kind of sore. Don’t worry, I’m coming into the Center on Monday. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re hurt, we shouldn’t be walking around until after you’ve been looked at. The team can’t afford to have you out of commission. Not now.”
“It’s nothing that serious. Just a few sore muscles. The walking will be good for me. Work out the kinks.”
“You’re sure?”
He nodded. “Are you working on Monday?”
“I am. Why?”
“You can take care of me yourself, then. Just to be sure.”
Shit. What had she just walked herself into? “If that’s what Joanne thinks you need.” She worked real hard to keep her voice steady, since the rest of her was anything but. Could she give him any kind of treatment with her usual detachment? Maybe her boss would assign a different PT to look after him. Worry about that on Monday, she told herself. “Okay, if you feel able, let’s go to lunch. At least you’ll be sitting.”
To her surprise, he linked arms with her and started south, past the stadium’s gated entrance. They looked like a couple. And even though she knew that was the point, having him touch her was much too dangerous.
He led her to a pub a few blocks away. It was dark, not crowded, but there were still a few people, and the woman behind the bar greeted Alex by name. Her sultry, welcoming smile dropped when she saw Nathalie.
“Brought a friend today, huh?” the bartender said. “She’s cute. You here to eat or just stopping in for a drink.”
Nathalie worked to keep from reacting to the “she’s cute” comment, pretty sure anything she did would complicate lunch.
“Food, please, Sam,” Alex said to the bartender.
“Table down the back. Great game last night.”
“Thanks.” He angled Nathalie in front of him and ushered her to a quiet corner booth.
After they were settled in and they’d ordered sandwiches and soup, Nathalie took a moment to glance back at the bar. The woman, Sam, flicked a look at Alex then turned back to one of the men at the bar and smiled big when he ordered another round. “Sam has a crush on you,” she commented.
“She likes hockey players,” he said with a shrug.
“Sleeps with a lot of them, does she?”
“She’s slept with a few that I know of.”
Nodding, Nathalie looked around at the pub décor. Very classic, dark wood, mirrors backing the bar, red velvet covering the seats.
“I haven’t slept with Sam,” he said.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were curious.”
She shrugged. “It’s not my business. So how often do you come here after a game?”
“Couple times a month. What are you doing Monday night?”
“No plans. Are you doing something outside your routine?”
“One of the guys is having a gathering at his place here in Brooklyn. Other players, wives and girlfriends. I don’t go there regularly, but I’ve been to his place
before.”
“You think Johnson might know about the party?” She considered this. Since it was a planned event, it was possible the man knew about it. Or that he stalked other players’ houses. Not likely, but possible if he was as desperate as Alex seemed to think he was. It was probably safe enough for Alex to go, but she would hate to go through all this only to have him shot because she’d ignored one possible danger zone. “I should get a look at the area. I don’t want to intrude on your private—”
“You’re invited. No intrusion. Girlfriends and wives, remember?”
“I’m neither, though.”
“You’ll pass for a girlfriend.”
She snorted. Then laughed. The whole idea was so ridiculous, she couldn’t help it. “Fine. I’ll go. What should I wear?”
“Whatever you like. The other women tend to dress up but mostly to show off for each other I think. You could go in that if you wanted to.”
“I have more than one outfit. I’ll change clothes.”
He flashed that sexy grin of his. The bastard. “You don’t dress the way I would have expected, given you’re a…”
“A witch? What were you expecting, black velvet and lace?”
“Bet you look good in velvet and lace.”
“I do. Look good in leather, too. But I usually wear normal clothes.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in leather. Or lace.”
“This isn’t a real date, you know.”
He didn’t comment and she was saved from having to push the issue by the arrival of their food.
After a few bites, she forced herself to face his flirting head on. She couldn’t afford to pretend to herself, and she didn’t want him getting the wrong idea either. “Why are you coming on to me? Because the bartender is watching? This part of the game?”
“No. I’m coming on to you because I like you.” He looked her over, the part of her he could see with the table in the way, and then met her gaze directly. “I always have, you know. Even when you’re wearing that ugly uniform at work, I can’t help but notice you. Hard to keep you from noticing my noticing when you’re working on my muscles, though.”
She shook her head, trying not to smile or be flattered. “I’m pretty sure I don’t believe you, but even if I did, this isn’t something that’s going to happen.”
“Why?”
“I’ve made that clear.” She released a harsh breath. “More than clear. I can’t afford to date you. For real.”
“Even though you want to?”
“Even if I wanted to.”
“Don’t pretend. You don’t think I can tell you’re attracted to me?”
She lowered her brows. “Alex. Don’t you pretend. What woman wouldn’t be attracted to you? That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is…” She lifted her hands palms up in a kind of exasperated surrender. “The point is there’s a lot about me you don’t know. I’m not someone you can afford to be involved with, not given how much you like your privacy.” She pushed aside her soup and folded her hands on the table. “Alex, I’m not the only one risking something here. We’re better keeping this temporary and platonic.”
“No, we’re not.” He picked up his sandwich and took a bite, looking for all the world like they were discussing nothing more serious than the weather.
She growled under her breath. “Impossible man.”
They made it through the meal without another heated debate, but Nathalie couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. She didn’t want to believe he really wanted her. If this was just a game to him, a passing fancy, she could ruin her life by giving in. She’d seen the women hanging off him at Vegas Night. She wasn’t his usual type.
So maybe he’d decided he wanted to get her into bed. A fun little fling for him, she was sure. But he couldn’t be thinking about long term or permanent. Not after knowing her outside of work for less than a week, not after two fake dates and a pizza dinner. And with her secrets, she couldn’t be in his world. He couldn’t afford it any more than she could.
They wandered around the area after lunch, walking slowly in deference to his sore thigh muscle. “How bad is the bruise?” she asked when she caught him rubbing his leg.
“Not the worst I’ve had,” he assured. “It’s not pretty, though.”
“Ah, poor Alex. No longer perfectly pretty?”
He laughed. “You do realize I like that you think I’m pretty, right?”
“Everyone thinks you’re pretty. Except when they’re facing you on the ice.”
“I really like your honesty, Nathalie. You don’t play games. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a woman who was so straightforward with me.”
“I’m just glad you can take it or this walk would be very tense.”
They’d been strolling side-by-side without touching, but when she smiled he took her hand and held tight when she tried to tug away.
“Your hands are warm still. Without gloves.”
She made an effort to lower the temperature of her palms and changed the subject. “I don’t see anything around here that looks even close to the place in my vision.” Letting out a breath, she admitted something she’d been afraid to say out loud. “What if we can’t find the building? What if we don’t figure it out in time? What if I walk you into the place you get shot trying to find it?”
“We’ve got time still. Don’t panic yet.”
“Have you heard from him recently?”
“There was a note slipped under my door when I got back last night.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? What did it say?”
“Another plea for help, an offer to split the winnings of his bet. Not sure why he’d offer me money. I’ve got plenty.”
“No threats?”
“I get the feeling from the tone of the message those are next. He’s sounding more and more desperate. Whatever trouble he’s in is nipping at his heels.”
“Shit. Then we don’t have much time.”
“We have enough.” He squeezed her hand. “Stop worrying. We’ll keep hanging out, doing what I normally do. And, eventually, we’ll spot something.”
He paused, then backed them out of the pedestrian traffic and faced her. “Nathalie, I don’t want you getting hurt in all this. My biggest worry is you really did have a vision, we find the building, and my old classmate finds us both there.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“No. It’s not. But I can handle myself. Better maybe even than you, mister pro athlete. There’s still a lot you don’t know about me. Trust me. I won’t get myself killed.”
“Good.” He brushed her hair behind her ear and pulled her close enough that their bodies touched. “Because I couldn’t stand it if you got hurt because of me.”
And suddenly, they had a whole new set of problems.
*****
He insisted on taking her home in a taxi instead of letting her take the subway. And he walked her to her door again. She was so overly aware of him, she could barely get her keys in the different locks. Before she could push the door open, he turned her to face him.
“I want to see you tomorrow.”
“Where? Where else do you go?”
He shook his head. “No, not to look. I want you to come to my house. I’ll cook for you.”
“No.”
“Please.” He cupped her cheeks in both hands and angled her head up to his. “Please.” Then he kissed her.
Shivers raced across her skin at his first, soft contact. The kiss was gentle at first, just a touch of lips. His hands held her face, keeping her close even though she had no desire to move away. Angling her head, he kissed her more firmly, still gentle and coaxing. With her hands gripping his wrists, she leaned into him and kissed back, opening to the sweep of his tongue, savoring his slow tasting.
Tension tightened his muscles, she could feel it through her grip on his arm
s, but his kiss continued to seduce slowly, deliciously.
Nathalie’s stomach clenched and her grip on his wrists flexed. She wanted to move closer but didn’t want to disrupt the spell of his lazily thorough kiss. By the time he lifted his mouth from hers, barely, so she still felt his breath against her skin, she was panting with a hard-to-control need.
“Come over tomorrow,” he murmured, looking her in the eyes when he asked.
When he spoke the movement of his lips brushing against hers sent yet another tremor of sensation down to her core. “I’m taking the subway.”
“Just say you’ll come over.”
“Fine.”
She felt rather than saw his smile just before he kissed her again. Still controlled, slow and drugging, still that lingering, thorough seduction. He edged her back a single step so she was leaning against the door and his body was pressed along the length of hers. The feel of all that hard muscle heavy against her was heaven.
But before she got carried away and dragged him inside, he straightened. With her face still held between his palms, he stared for a long minute. She stared back because she had no idea what to say or even if she’d be able to speak.
“Tomorrow. My place. Noon. That’s not too early for you?”
She shook her head.
“See you then. Sweet dreams.”
She stayed leaning against the door until well after his footsteps no longer echoed on the stairs.
Chapter Nine
Somewhat to Nathalie’s surprise, Chris Emerson answered the door when she rang the bell at exactly noon.
“Hey, Nat. Come on in. He’s in the kitchen.”
“Thanks.”
Chris took her coat and hung it on a wall hook next to the door, in line with other jackets. She caught a not-unpleasant but strong scent from him that seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it before he motioned her to follow him.
He led her through the beautiful, dark wood entryway, past the stairs leading up to the second floor and a narrow nook that branched off to a living room with a giant TV. Everything was so masculine and tidy. She couldn’t say exactly what it was about the place, but it reminded her of Alex. It looked like the kind of place he’d live. They passed through another narrow hall to a lovely, large-for-New York kitchen which looked out onto a small backyard.
Going All In Page 13