For the Captain (The Detroit Pirates Book 1)

by Jenny Redford

  Jordan simply nodded and followed the rest of the crowd into Charlotte's living room for coffee and desserts. Chef Marco made all kinds of little cake things for the group as his crew packed up in the kitchen. The four of them sat around and talked about hockey or tried to give Charlotte ideas for places to visit in the area. Jordan was particularly impressed by Aiden's knowledge of the Pirates players and his ability to eat his weight in pastries.

  "This was quite a dinner, Charlotte," Adam said as the night began to wind down. "Well worth the money you had to pay to get Jordan here."

  "I feel like I did have to turn the charm up tonight considering how much Miss Stone shelled out, eh?" he replied with a little Canadian seeping into his sentence.

  "I was just happy everyone could come."

  "And with that, I think it's time for us to leave," Rachel said. "Although I may need some help."

  The crew turned to see Aiden had fallen asleep on her lap. Apparently, meeting Jordan was exhausting even after all the sugar he consumed in the past hour. Adam stood and scooped his slumbering son off the couch. "Good night," Adam whispered as his wife draped a small coat over their son. "It was nice to meet you, Jordan."

  Jordan nodded in thanks and let Charlotte say her last goodbyes to the guests as he politely headed off to a corner of her living room to make a phone call. The Pirates' head of public relations had sent him an email earlier in the day practically demanding he use the team's car service for dinner tonight instead of driving himself.

  Charlotte was closing the door behind the cooking crew for the night when he finally finished the call. It was now just the two of them — alone.

  "Car service," he explained as he slid his phone into his pocket.

  "So they're here now?"

  "No. I'm going to head to the lobby and wait there," he replied slowly, hoping maybe she would be the consummate host and invite him to stick around a little longer instead.

  "Oh, you can just stay here."

  Yep, definitely predicable.

  "Besides," Charlotte added, "my doorman couldn't stop talking about you coming over tonight. He'll just embarrass himself in your presence."

  He gave her a small laugh. "Wouldn't be the first time."

  "So do you usually use a car service?" she asked. "It seems so uncommon here compared to New York."

  "No, but a player in Los Angeles was arrested a few weeks ago for a DUI so our press guy was pretty adamant that I use it just in case," he explained. "Declan Reed is such a jackass."

  "What?" Charlotte asked quickly.

  "Declan Reed. He's the player who was arrested. Total jerk on the ice and off of it too."

  He noticed Charlotte look down quickly to stare at her feet. "Gotcha."

  Jordan couldn't figure out what had changed, but something was suddenly off. Did she not like car services? Or Declan Reed? He wouldn't blame her if she wasn't a fan of his — no one was, really — but it seemed like quite a dramatic response to some random hockey goon. He figured it was best to find a way to quickly change the subject.

  "So did you design this place yourself?"

  "Yeah, sort of," she said, a smile returning to her face. "I had an architect help out, but all the stuff in it is mine."

  "Cool, cool," he tried to say casually.

  "You know, since you're waiting, I could give you a tour."

  He smiled at her, internally congratulating himself for getting the conversation back to more positive territory. "I'd love to know what you've done with it."

  Charlotte nodded her head, directing Jordan to follow her as she began pointing to various rooms in the penthouse. "This is the kitchen — you've seen that already." They continued to walk on with her telling him stories about the construction process or the art she had chosen or where the guest bedrooms were. "And that's my bedroom in there."

  Jordan stopped, raising an eyebrow in her direction. "I don't get to see your bedroom?" he asked in a mocking hurt tone.

  "Maybe next time," she replied curtly.

  The tone of her response told him there would likely not be a next time, but he couldn't help himself from hoping.

  "This is my office at the end of the hall."

  She pushed opened the double doors that led into the room and flipped on the bright lights. There was a beautiful ornate wood desk in the middle with a red leather chair tucked in under it. On the wall was the large white board with lots of writing for what he assumed was a book she was working on. Jordan walked over to study it some more, fascinated with all the colors, lines and notes that seemed chaotic to him. Arrows were drawn from groups of words to other parts of the board. Columns had different colors with some of Charlotte's ideas in red or black. Spots were blank after being erased. "More goes here" showed up in several places.

  "So wait," he said as he took in the board in front of him. "You actually do write novels?"

  "Yes," she replied. "You seem surprised."

  Jordan shrugged. "I assumed you just had someone else write them."

  "You wouldn't be the first," she said. "People think the publisher just slaps my name on the cover so they can sell copies, but it's actually all my own work."

  He gave her a reassuring smile, a sign that he really did believe her, before turning back to her white board. Two words in purple capital letters near the top of the board stuck out to him.

  "What's a meet-cute?" he said.

  "A what?"

  "It's says 'meet-cute' right here." He pointed up to the words. "What does that mean?"

  "Oh, that's when the couple in a story meets for the first time in a cute way."

  He gave her a teasing look. "Like if a woman met a man after placing the winning bid to have dinner with him."

  "Exactly," she replied. "Although we actually met at the arena when I was waiting for Jack."

  Did she think he had forgotten that? "Oh, I know, Charlie. You're not easy to forget." Charlie? Where did that come from? He took a physical step back, feeling like he had gone too far by acting too familiar. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you Charlie."

  "I don't mind," she said quietly. "I actually kind of like it sometimes. You know, if it's the right person saying it."

  She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear, and he decided maybe it was better to not push any further now. Besides, he was keeping his hands to himself tonight. He was focused on the playoffs in a few months, not on a woman now. Ethan would be mad at him for the decision, but he could deal with his brother's wrath later.

  To distract himself from over thinking the whole thing, he turned to look at the rest of the room, his eyes immediately drawn to the large windows along the far wall. "Wow. Now that is an amazing view."

  He walked over and stood in front of the windows, looking out over the city spread out below them. She came and stood next to him, her reflection in the glass distracting him from the view outside.

  "I've been told you can see Canada from here."

  "Gorgeous," he said.

  He turned to look at her, realizing he wasn't even sure if he was talking about the view out the window or the woman next to him. He couldn't help it. Forget Ethan or his issues or his career. Forget keeping his hands to himself. At that moment, the only thing Jordan could think of was her. His hand instinctively reached for the small of her back, her body leaning in to him as the air began to crackle between them. All he had to do was pull her a little closer...

  And then the phone in his pocket rang.

  "Dammit," he murmured as his hand quickly left her back to answer it. "Yeah," he said with a bit of agitation as his driver told him it was time to leave. "I'll be right down."

  Jordan looked back up at Charlotte, who had stepped a few inches back from him, the phone call also seeming to have pulled her out of the warm haze they had been in. "Well, it seems my pumpkin has arrived."

  "Seems so," she said before giving him a polite smile. "Let me walk you out."

  Jordan gave her a nod as she led him out of her office and
down the hall, her ass looking amazing in that dress as he followed to the coat closet near her front door. He smiled as he took the coat from her and draped it over his arm.

  "I really had a great time tonight, Charlotte," he said. "Much better than hanging out with a bunch of rich guys like I did last year."

  "I was happy to have you here."

  He leaned over to give her a light kiss on the cheek, the heat searing his lips despite the gentle touch. "I hope to see you again sometime," he whispered close to her ear, her warmth lingering on his skin as he slowly pulled away.

  "Friday!"

  He gave her a quizzical look. "What?"

  She seemed sheepish as if she was suddenly aware that she said that louder than intended. "Oh, um, Denver's in town that night and I'll be at the game so I'll see you Friday."

  "Ah, right. Well, I'll try not to disappoint you." He flashed her one final smile. "Good night, Charlotte."

  "Good night," she said before she closed the door behind him.

  He stood there waiting for the elevator, unsure of how exactly he should feel. Dinner had gone well after he got over the fact that her date wasn't really a date. And she did tell him she would show him her bedroom another time. She didn't mean literally, he tried to tell himself.

  But then there was that moment in her office. He couldn't really explain it. It was as if his body had no choice in the way it reacted to her. He could try and deny it, try and say it didn't really mean anything, but it had. Jordan could just hear his brother saying, "I told you so," which is why he decided he wouldn't share that part with Ethan.

  On Friday, Jordan scored two goals against Denver and after the game, he skated over to give Aiden his stick and Charlotte one of his trademark winks.

  Chapter 5

  Charlotte sat in the visitors' locker room at the Pirates' arena, lacing up her skates for tonight's season-ticket holder event. It would be a welcomed distraction from the email her mother had sent her earlier in the day.

  "Thought you would find this interesting if you haven't seen it yet!" the message read. She added a smiley emoticon and ended it with "Hearts, Mom." She hated her mother's new sign-off. It made it sound like the post-menopausal woman who raised her was now a teenage girl.

  Charlotte's mother had a tendency to send links to her from various gossip sites about various people she couldn't care less about. "Can you believe this actor lives a floor below us?" or "This is Francesca's daughter. You know Francesca." (She had no clue.) Today it was a story about a single-named lingerie model. She groaned out loud, knowing she would have to click on it to find out what it said since she could guarantee her mother would ask about it later.

  But this time, her mom was right. It was quite interesting, just maybe not in a good way. At the top of the site was a Page Six headline in bold black letters — "Raquelle: 'I've never been happier'" — and a picture of the model with her boyfriend's arm around her.

  Charlotte recognized him immediately.

  "Super sexy model Raquelle says she's never been happier now that she's with hockey bad boy Declan Reed. 'He's the best thing that's happened to me,' she gleefully said in a Vogue interview this month."

  Charlotte scoffed. "That's what you think," she muttered as she continued to read.

  "The Los Angeles forward feels the same way! 'I've never been with someone as amazing as Raquelle. No other woman compares to her.'"

  Charlotte stared at the screen trying to figure out what exactly she felt about Declan's quote. She was nothing compared to some super model? Charlotte took a deep breath. Screw him. She was successful and happy without him. But she also knew both from her personal experiences and from the books she wrote that you always carry things from your past relationships to your current one.

  Of course, there was one tiny issue with that philosophy: a current relationship didn't exist for her. Jordan King putting his hand on her back did not make a relationship. And yet, there she was, quickly shutting down her computer so she could get ready for the season-ticket holder skate with the Pirates. And no, before she left the house, she did not over analyze what to wear or how to do her make-up or which perfume to put on. (Expect she did, including the vanilla spritz, which was her go-to since it was an easy casual scent that didn't make it seem like she was trying too hard and made her smell like warm cookies.)

  Charlotte pulled herself out of her thoughts and back into her current reality at the rink by accidentally yanking the laces on her skates a little too tight. Apparently, that stupid email she opened a few hours earlier still had her a bit wound up.

  "Charlotte!"

  She looked up to see Aiden running across the visitors' locker room towards her with his parents following behind him. All three had skates with them and Adam had a small helmet in his hand.

  "What's up, buddy?" Charlotte said as she held her hand up to get a fist bump from the six-year-old.

  He knocked his hand against hers. "So much stuff!"

  "What kind of stuff?"

  "I got to make a robot in art class today and it was so awesome!" He plopped down in the seat next to her with a smile plastered on his face as he quickly undid the Velcro on his shoes. "I'm going skating. Are you?"

  "Yep!" she said, flashing him her skates.

  Adam sat down and starting pulling his shoes off. "Those are impressive skates, Charlotte," he said, nodding to her feet.

  Impressive because her ex-boyfriend got them for free from a sponsor. Sure, she wasn't with Declan anymore, and sure, she was moving on. But she damn well was going to keep these skates.

  "I guess I just take my hockey skates seriously," she explained.

  Rachel smiled. "I'm sure the players will be impressed," she said. "Especially one in particular."

  Charlotte gave her friend a side glance. "You're implying Jordan."

  "I'm just saying, that guy couldn't take his eyes off of you the entire dinner," she replied. "He's definitely got a reputation though, so just don't over think it."

  "I don't know. It's kind of rude to check out a woman when she obviously has another date," she said sarcastically.

  Rachel laughed. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but Aiden would dump you in a heartbeat if Jordan King asked him."

  "Can I get some help?"

  The two women turned to see Aiden with his long untied laces pooling on the floor around his skates.

  "I got you, buddy," Charlotte said as she knelt down on the floor in front of Aiden. "Let's make sure we get these tight, OK?" She tugged on his laces and tied them with bows. "OK, stand up and let me know if they're tight enough?"

  "They're perfect!" he exclaimed.

  He grabbed his helmet and buckled it around his chin before hobbling off on his skates. His excitement seemed to be infectious as Charlotte walked behind him, the nervousness in her chest growing. She knew Jordan was here. She just didn't know if he would care about seeing her after that moment in her office. She wondered how many women he had tried that move on before — and how many hesitated like she had instead of just kissing him.

  Charlotte stepped out on the ice with Aiden and took his hand as they worked their way around the rink with the other fans while she tried not to look for Jordan. But it wasn't hard to find him. As they rounded the end of the rink, she glanced up quickly to see the dark brown hair on the back of his head as he and another player skated together. Charlotte watched as he spun around on his blades, skating backwards to talk to his teammate, and she couldn't help but stare. He was still as gorgeous as he was when he was standing in her office, so close to her.

  Jordan's eyes locked onto hers and she realized he had caught her staring. A smile spread across his face and he tapped his friend on the shoulder. She tried to duck her head down to cover up her indiscretion, maybe play it off like she was just looking ahead to make sure she didn't run into anyone. But Jordan knew and skated right towards her. She was about to open her mouth and say something — what exactly she hadn't quite figured out — when he ducked down.r />
  "I see you have the lovely Miss Stone as your date again!" he said to Aiden. "How did you get so lucky?"

  The boy shrugged. "She's just my friend."

  Jordan stood up and turned, skating backwards in front of them as he stared at Charlotte. "Then how did I get so lucky?" he said with a small smile.

  "You better watch yourself, King, or you're going to run into the boards."

  Jordan smirked and just crossed his feet a few times, matching the turn of the boards without taking his eyes off her. "I know this rink so well I could skate around it with my eyes closed, darling." He turned to his teammate who had taken up a spot right next to Aiden. "Where are my manners? Charlotte, Aiden," he said, giving the boy's name an extra bit of emphasis. "This is Birdie."

  "That's not my real name," his teammate said.

  Aiden looked up in awe before finally coming to his senses. "It's Alex Orlov. They call you Birdie because Orlov means eagle in Russian."

  "It does," he replied with a smile.

  "And you're the best defenseman in the league."

  "Smart kid. Keep going."

  Aiden smiled up at the player with more confidence. "You learned English by watching American reality shows."

  Alex ruffled the hair on the boy's head. "I sure did," he said, turning to look at Charlotte. "Speaking of which, I'm a big fan of your mom's show and thought maybe—"

  "You also won a gold medal for Russia in the last Olympics, which is gross."

  "You are not so smart, kid," Alex responded, laying his Russian accent on thick this time.

  Aiden seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he just blocked the defenseman from getting some dirt from Charlotte, but she was thankful that the boy had diverted the hockey star's attention. Aiden, however, seemed unphased.

  "I'm trying to learn how to skate as fast as you."

  "Then let's see what you can do."

  The boy turned to his parents skating behind him. "Mom, can I skate with Birdie?"

  Rachel's eyes got wide with concern while Adam just nodded. "Go ahead, kid."

  Aiden pulled his hand out of Charlotte's. "Sorry," he said sadly. "I have to go."