See Jane Score

by Rachel Gibson

  “When I was about nine months pregnant.” She dug around in her little black purse and pulled out a photo. “This is Nathan.”

  Georgeanne reached for her pictures. “This is Lexie when she was ten, and that’s her little sister Olivia.” Luc didn’t mind looking at kid photos- really-but he did wonder why parents always assumed he wanted to see them. “Cute kids.” He looked them over, then handed the photographs back to both women.

  The conversation around him turned to the speeches he’d missed by arriving late, and he took the opportunity to check out Jane’s dress. The front scooped low over her small breasts, and he’d bet that if she hunched her shoulders a bit, he could see down the front. The room was hot, yet her nipples poked out like she was in a deep freeze.

  “Luc,” Marie said, pulling his attention away from Jane’s dress. He looked over his shoulder at his sister. “Do you know where the rest rooms are?”

  “I know,” Jane answered for him. “Follow me. I’ll take you.” With her high shoes, Jane was about the same height as Marie. “On the way, you can tell me all your brother’s deep dark secrets,” she added as they walked away.

  He figured he was safe, since Marie didn’t know any of his secrets. Deep dark or otherwise. The two were quickly swallowed within the crowd, and when he turned back, Mae and Georgeanne excused themselves and he was left staring at Darby.

  Darby spoke first. “I saw the way you were looking at Jane. She’s not your type.”

  He brushed aside his jacket and stuck his hand in his pocket. “What type is that?”

  “A rink bunny.”

  Luc never went with rink bunnies, and he wasn’t so sure he had a type anymore. Not when he could look at Jane Alcott and wonder what she’d do if he pulled her into a linen closet and kissed off her red lipstick. If he ran his fingers down her spine and slid his hand around the front and cupped her small breast. Of course, he could never do that. Not with Jane. “What’s it to you?”

  “Jane and I are friends.”

  “Aren’t you the same guy who called and asked me to talk her into taking her job back?”

  “That was business. If you mess with her, she could lose her job. Permanently. I’d be really pissed off if you did something to hurt her.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Luc looked down into Darby’s pale face and almost developed some respect for the guy.

  “Yes.”

  Luc smiled. Maybe Darby wasn’t the dickless wonder he’d always thought. The band struck its first chords and Luc walked away. The sort of jazz crap that got on his nerves filled the room and he wove his way to the man of the hour, Hugh Miner. John Kowalsky joined them, and they talked hockey, discussing the Chinooks’ chances of winning the cup that year.

  “If the team stays healthy,” Hugh predicted, “we have a good shot at the cup.”

  “A sniper wouldn’t hurt either,” the Wall added.

  Their conversation turned to what they’d both been up to since retirement and Hugh pulled a wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers and flipped it open. “This is Nathan.” Luc didn’t bother telling him that he’d already seen the photograph.

  Chapter 9

  Rock Head Move: Dumb Move

  Jane dried her hands with a paper towel and tossed it in the garbage. She looked in the mirror above the sink and hardly recognized herself. She wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

  She opened the little purse she’d borrowed from Caroline and pulled out a tube of red lip gloss. Marie joined her at the sink, and Jane studied Luc’s sister as she washed her hands. Brother and sister looked nothing alike, except that their eyes were the same shade of blue.

  Earlier, when she’d turned and seen Luc with such a young girl, she’d been shocked. Her first thought had been that he should be arrested, but then he’d shocked her further a moment later when he’d introduced his sister.

  “I’m not good at this,” Jane confessed as she leaned forward and smeared the gloss on her mouth. Before the banquet, Caroline had put some sort of semipermanent color on her lips, and all Jane had to do was reapply the gloss. She thought she’d done a good job, but she had no experience and wasn’t certain. “Tell me the truth. Do my lips look messy?”

  “No.”

  “Huge?” She had to admit that getting this made up was kind of fun. Not something she would want to do every day, though. Or even very often.

  “No.” Marie dropped the paper towel in the trash. “I like your dress.”

  “I got it at Nordstrom.”

  “Me too!”

  She handed Marie the gloss. “My friend helped me pick it out. I’m not very good with color.”

  “I picked mine out, but Luc bought it.”

  If that was the case, she wondered why Luc let his sister buy a dress that was too small. Jane might not be a slave to fashion, but even she could see it. “That was very nice of him.” Through the mirror, she watched Marie coat her lips a bit too much. “Do you live in Seattle?”

  “Yep, I live with Luc.”

  Shock number three of the evening. “Really? That must be a flaming hell. Are you being punished for something?”

  “No, my mom died a month and a half ago.”

  “Oh, no.” Jane’s chest squeezed. “I’m so sorry. I was trying to be funny and I said something insensitive. I feel like such an ass.”

  “It’s okay.” Marie gave Jane half a smile. “And living with Luc isn’t always a flaming hell.”

  Jane took back her gloss and turned to face Marie. What was there to say? Nothing. She tried anyway. “My mother died when I was six. It’s been twenty-four years, but I know…” she paused, searching for the right word. There wasn’t one. “I know the hole it leaves in your heart.”

  Marie nodded and she looked down at her shoes. “Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “I know how you feel.” Jane dropped the tube back in her purse and put her arm around Marie’s shoulders. “If you ever want to talk about it with someone, you can talk to me.”

  “That might be okay.”

  Tears filled the corners of Marie’s eyes and Jane gave her a little squeeze. It had been twenty-four years, but Jane clearly recalled the emotions that were so close to the surface. “But not tonight. Tonight we’re going to have fun. Earlier I met some of Hugh Miner’s nephews. They’re here from Minnesota and I think they’re your age.”

  Marie dabbed at her eyes with her fingers. “Are they hot?”

  Jane thought about that. If she were Marie’s age, she might think so, but she wasn’t, and thinking teenage boys were hot made her uncomfortable. She could almost hear the song “Mrs. Robinson” in her ears. “Well, they live on a farm,” she began as they left the bathroom. “I think they milk cows.”

  “Yuck.”

  “No, that means they’re buff, and as far as I could tell, they don’t smell like a barn.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Very good.” Jane looked across her shoulder at Marie. “I like your eye shadow. It’s very sparkly.”

  “Thanks. You can borrow it sometime.”

  “I think I’m a little old for eye glitter.” Jane dropped her arm as they wove their way through the crowd. She found Hugh Miner’s nephews looking out over the city and introduced Marie to the two teenage boys. Jack and Mac Miner were seventeen-year-old twins and were dressed in matching tuxedos with scarlet cummerbunds. They had spiky crew cuts and big brown eyes, and Jane had to admit that they were kind of cute.

  “What grade are you in?” Mac, or perhaps Jack, asked Marie.

  A blush stained her cheeks, and she hunched her shoulders. Looking at Marie brought it all back, the horrid insecurity of adolescence, and Jane thanked God she never had to go through it again.

  “Tenth,” Marie answered.

  “We were in tenth last year.”

  “Yeah, everyone picks on the tenth-graders.”

  Marie nodded. “They throw tenth-graders in Dumpsters.”

  “We don’t.
At least not the girls.”

  “If we were at your school, we’d look out for you,” one of the twins said, impressing Jane with his gallantry. They were really nice young gentlemen, and their parents had raised them right and should be proud. “Tenth blows,” he added.

  Maybe not. Maybe someone should inform him that he shouldn’t talk like that in front of girls.

  “Yeah, it blows,” Marie agreed. “I can’t wait till next year.”

  Okay, maybe Jane was just getting old. And she supposed, that when you got right down to it, saying something blew was the same as saying it sucked.

  The more the teens talked, the more Marie seemed to relax. They talked about where they went to school, what sports they played, and what music they liked. All of them agreed that the jazz band playing at the opposite side of the room was lame.

  While Marie and the twins talked about what “blew” and what was “lame,” Jane glanced about the room, searching for more adult conversation. Her gaze skimmed over Darby, who was in a deep conversation with General Manager Clark Gamache, and landed on Luc where he leaned against the end of the bar, talking to a tall blond woman in a white slip dress. The woman had her palm on his arm and his head was lowered over hers as she spoke. He brushed aside the edge of his jacket and shoved one hand in his pants pocket. Charcoal suspenders lay flat against the white pleats of his shirt, and Jane knew under those formal clothes the man had the body of a god and a horseshoe tattooed on his flat belly. Luc laughed at something the woman said, and Jane looked away. Something alarming that felt a lot like jealousy landed in the pit of her stomach and her hand tightened on her little purse. She couldn’t be jealous. She had no claim to him, and she didn’t even like him. Well, not that much. What she felt was anger, she reasoned. While she babysat Luc’s sister, he trolled for Vanna White look-alikes.

  Rob Sutter asked her to dance and she left Marie in the care of the Miner twins. The Hammer led her to the middle of the floor and surprised her with how well he moved. His hand on her side, he led her around the dance floor. If it hadn’t been for his black eye, he would have looked utterly respectable in his black tux.

  After Rob, she danced with the Stromster, who’d dyed his Mohawk a light blue to match his tuxedo. At first conversation with the young Swede was difficult, but the longer she listened to him, the better she understood his heavy accent. When the band paused between songs, she thanked Daniel and made her way to Darby, who waited for her on the edge of the dance floor.

  “I’m sorry, Jane,” he began as she approached him, “but I have to take you home now. An acquisition we’ve been working on is finally taking place tonight. Clark has already left for the office. I have to meet him there.”

  The Space Needle was a stone’s throw from the Key Arena and, depending on the time of day, about half an hour from her apartment. “Go ahead. I’ll take a taxi.”

  He shook his head. “I want to make sure you get home.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets home.” Jane turned at the sound of Luc’s voice. “Marie’s up on the observation deck with the Miner twins. When she comes back down, we’ll take you home.”

  “That would help me out a lot,” Darby said.

  Jane glanced behind Luc for the blonde, but he was alone. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure.” He looked at the assistant general manager. “Who’s involved in the acquisition?”

  “Keep it under your hat until morning.”

  “Of course.”

  “Dion.”

  Luc smiled. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Darby turned to Jane. “Thanks for coming with me tonight.”

  “Thank you for inviting me. The ride in the limo was wild.”

  “See you two at the airport in the morning,” Darby said and headed for the elevator.

  As Jane watched him go, she asked, “Who’s Dion?”

  “Boy, you really don’t know much about the game.” Luc took her elbow and, without bothering to ask, pulled her out onto the crowded dance floor. Luc took her small purse and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket. He folded one of her hands in his and placed his warm palm on her side.

  In her new heels, her eyes were level with his mouth, and she set her hand on his shoulder. The light on the dance floor cast a diagonal shadow across his face, and she watched his lips while he spoke. “Pierre Dion is a veteran sniper,” he said. “He knows the ice. When he shoots from his sweet spot, the puck stings like a son of a bitch.”

  Watching his mouth did funny things to Jane’s nerve endings, and she raised her gaze to his. It was probably best not to talk about sweet spots. “Your sister seems like a very nice girl.”

  “Really?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “No.” He looked over her head. “It’s just that she’s moody and unpredictable, and tonight hasn’t been a real good night for her. She was asked to a high school dance, but the boy decided to take someone else at the last minute.”

  “That’s horrible. What a little bastard.”

  His gaze returned to hers. “I offered to kick the kid’s ass, but Marie thought it would embarrass her.”

  For some bizarre reason, Jane felt herself fall deeper into infatuation with him. She couldn’t help it, and all because he’d offered to kick some ass on his sister’s behalf. “You’re a good brother.”

  “Actually, I’m not.” His thumb brushed the back of her hand and he pulled her a little closer. “She cries a lot, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “She just lost her mother. There’s nothing you can do.”

  His knee bumped hers. “She told you that?”

  “Yes, and I know how she feels. I lost my mother too. I told her if she needed to talk to someone, to give me a call. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all. I think she really needs a woman to talk to. I’ve hired someone to stay with Marie while I’m on the road, but she doesn’t seem to like her.” He thought a moment, then said, “What she really needs is someone to take her clothes-shopping. Every time I give her my credit card, she comes back with a bag of candy and something two sizes too small.”

  That would explain the tight dress. “I could hook her up with my friend Caroline. She’s really good at making people over.”

  “That would be great, Jane. I don’t know anything about girls.”

  Even if she hadn’t read up on him, she would have known within five seconds of meeting him that Luc knew a lot about girls. It was the look in his eye and the confident curve of his smile. “You mean you don’t know anything about sisters.”

  “I don’t know anything about my little sister,” he said through a wicked grin. “But I did date twins once.”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “You and Hef.”

  He laughed, deeply amused with himself. “You’re so gullible,” he said as the music ended and she stepped back. Instead of releasing her, he pulled her against his chest. The band struck up another number. “What did you and Hogue do in the limo?” he asked next to her hair.

  “What?”

  “You thanked Darby for a wild limo ride.”

  She and Darby had drunk champagne and played with the television, as the driver drove them around the city as if they were Bill and Melinda Gates. But she figured that wasn’t really what Luc wanted to know. His mind was in the gutter, and she decided to give him something to think about. “We got freaky.”

  He stopped. “You got freaky with Hogue?”

  She almost laughed, and looked up into his face. The only thing freaky about her was her imagination. “Beneath that hair gel, he’s a wild man.”

  He started to move once more. “Tell me about it.” His breath whispered across her temple and her fingers curled into his shoulder.

  “You want the details?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She did laugh then. He’d probably done things that even Honey Pie hadn’t thought up. She doubted she could shock him if she tried. “Unless I make something up, I’m
afraid you’re doomed to disappointment.”

  “Then make something up.”

  Could she? Right here on the dance floor? If she closed her eyes, could she become Honey Pie? The woman who made men want her with a smile. Men like Luc.

  “Something good,” he added. “No whips, though. I’m not into pain.”

  It was tempting. Tempting to sink into his chest and pretend she was the kind of woman to satisfy a man like Luc. The kind who whispered naughty suggestions and made men beg. For her next article in Him, she’d been thinking of writing Honey into a co-ed fantasy. Men loved co-ed fantasies. “Do you like to watch?”

  “I’m more of a doer,” he said close to her ear. “It’s more interesting that way.”

  But she couldn’t do it. Alone in her own apartment was one thing, but standing within Luc’s arms in the SkyLine was entirely different. She couldn’t take it any further and the best she could come up with was, “Darby is an animal. Neither of us may ever recover. In fact, I better go sit down now. I’m exhausted.”

  Luc pulled back and looked into her face. “Don’t tell me that’s the best you can do. You’re better at trash-talking. And you pretty much suck at that.”

  “Let’s talk about something else.” Something safe.

  He was quiet for a moment, then said, “You look good tonight.”

  “Thank you. You’re looking pretty good yourself.” He pulled her close once more, and she brushed her fingers across his shoulder, feeling the texture of his jacket. If she leaned in just a fraction, the smell of his cologne and the starch of his shirt filled her nose. “Very nice.”

  “I like your hair.”

  “I got it cut this morning. It looks good now, but the real test will come in the morning when I have to wash it.”

  When he spoke again, his voice was a smooth rumble next to her ear. “I just wash mine and go.”

  She closed her eyes. Good, a nice safe boring subject. Hair care.

  “I like your dress.”

  Another safe subject. “Thanks. It’s not black.”

  “I noticed.” He slid his hand from her side to the small of her back, his warm palm and fingers against her bare skin. “Do you think you might ever wear it backward?”