Seduced by the Game

by editor Lisa Hollett

  Izzy tugged on the bottom of her Seattle Sockeyes number fourteen jersey that Ethan had given to her when she’d picked up her very generous check. Number fourteen happened to be Cooper’s number.

  She glanced around the coffee shop and back to the hooded man lingering near the doorway across the room. Midmorning wasn’t her busiest time, and he was her only customer. A little jolt of fear ran through her, and she prayed she wasn’t about to be robbed.

  Izzy put on her bravest smile and waited for the man to come to the counter. His long strides carried him closer as he pulled the hood off his head. Her heart leapt over the Olympic high bar and set a world record. Her mouth dropped open. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter.

  “Cooper,” she rasped, shocked to see him. Delight raced through her body, alerting dormant parts to the hot man’s presence, and alerted they were.

  Too much.

  “Hey.” He stopped in front of the counter, his eyes on the menu board on the wall. “I’ll have a double caramel macchiato.” His lopsided grin warmed her heart.

  “Do you even know what’s in one?”

  “Drink them all the time, gets me in touch with my feminine side.”

  “You don’t have a feminine side.”

  He met her gaze but not before his eyes travelled lower and back up. “Number fourteen, huh?”

  “Ethan gave it to me. Let me get that drink started right away.”

  He nodded. She could feel his eyes on her as she made his drink, watching her every move. She slid the drink across the counter to him.

  He took a sip and licked his lips. “Yummy.”

  “I make the most awesome macchiato anywhere.” She couldn’t help but smile.

  “You do, take it from a connoisseur.” He grinned right back. “Can you join me? You don’t seem too busy.”

  “Okay.” Izzy tried not to sound too excited and poured herself a strong cup of coffee—she’d need it to get through the next few minutes—and joined him at a small table near the window. Outside the skies were gray with drizzle. “It’s raining again.”

  Another smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “You know, this incessant rain is actually somewhat romantic.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah, or it would be if I had a special someone to share walks in the rain with me.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his.

  “I’m sure you’ll find that person.” She was afraid to read anything into the emotions lighting up his eyes.

  “Maybe I already have.” Cooper looked down at their intertwined fingers then back up. He swallowed and ran his free hand through his dark hair. “Izzy, I’m sorry. I called you a prostitute, and that was inexcusable. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “I forgive you, and you were right, too. I was using you—at first. But it went further than that. I never get physically involved with guests or clients, ever. You blew through all my convictions with one epic, sexy smile.”

  “Really? Only one.” He preened like a male lion after seducing his lioness into the den.

  “Only one.” She watched him, waiting and hoping.

  “How about we start over?”

  “That would be awesome.”

  He removed his hand from hers and stood. Her heart sank. He was leaving? Was that how he started over?

  Instead he bent down and took her hand in his again. “I’m Cooper Black.”

  She giggled, batted her eyelashes, and gazed up at him. “I’m Izzy Maxwell.”

  “Well, Izzy, I think you and I should get to know each other better. Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

  “I’d love that, Cooper.”

  “So would I.”

  Cooper pulled Izzy to her feet and kissed her soundly, a kiss full of new beginnings and future promises—not to mention, hot enough to melt ice.

  # # #

  AUTHOR’S NOTE:

  I hope you enjoyed this brief look into Cooper and Izzy’s growing romance. They’ll be back soon in a full-length novel. Subscribe to my newsletter for the latest on the Sockeyes and other upcoming Jami Davenport books at http://www.jamidavenport.com.

  * * * *

  BOOKLIST

  The following Jami Davenport titles are available in electronic and some are available in trade paperback format.

  Evergreen Dynasty Series

  Save the Last Dance

  Who’s Been Sleeping in My Bed?

  The Gift Horse

  Seattle Sockeyes Hockey Series

  Skating on Thin Ice (Coming Soon)

  Crashing the Boards, Seduced by The Game

  Seattle Lumberjacks Football Series

  Fourth and Goal

  Forward Passes

  Down by Contact

  Backfield in Motion

  Christmas Break

  Time of Possession

  Standalone Books

  Love at First Snow

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jami Davenport has been writing since she was old enough to know the alphabet. An advocate of happy endings, Jami writes sexy romantic comedy, sports hero romances, and equestrian fiction. Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her husband, a former Green Beret turned plumber, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare.

  She works in IT for her day job and is a former high school business teacher. In her spare time, Jami rides and shows her dressage horse and grows roses. An avid boater, Jami has spent countless hours in the San Juan Islands, the setting for her first two books. In her opinion, it is the most beautiful place on earth.

  Subscribe to her newsletter for the latest information on new releases at http://eepurl.com/LpfaL

  Website: jamidavenport.com

  Events Blog: jamidavenport.blogspot.com

  Romancing the Jock Blog: romancingthejock.com

  Twitter: @jamidavenport

  Facebook: facebook.com/jamidavenport

  Facebook Fan Page: facebook.com/jamidavenportauthor

  Seattle Lumberjacks Page: facebook.com/SeattleLumberjacks

  Pinterest: pinterest.com/jamidavenport/

  Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/1637218.Jami_Davenport

  Taking a Shot

  Book 2.5 in the Portland Storm series

  © Catherine Gayle

  Dedication

  For my Uncle John.

  I love you and I miss you, and I don’t know what I would ever do without you telling me I have green hair.

  The team started to leave the ice after the morning skate, so this was my best chance, at least to just get it done and over with without Mom crying. I’d had enough of crying for a while—hers, my own, and everyone else’s, too. Dad wouldn’t cry over this—not in front of his teammates, at least—so I should be safe from tears for a bit as long as I could escape Mom’s hovering and get to him.

  Dad played pro hockey for the Portland Storm. Game-day skates weren’t open to the general public, but Mom and I didn’t count as part of the public around here. We were family.

  Ever since I’d started chemotherapy treatments for my leukemia a few weeks ago, the Storm’s general manager and coaching staff had been allowing me to come and watch the closed practices in addition to the off-day practices.

  Mom always came with me. Sometimes it seemed as though she believed she could make me better just by being with me, which was ridiculous. Even these awful drugs might not make me better, so how could she? I wasn’t exactly going to keel over and die while she wasn’t looking, but she didn’t like to let me out of her sight these days, as if she needed the physical reminder to know I was still alive. The only things I needed to remind me that I was alive were the aches and pains I’d been having.

  I’d thought radiation was bad right up until the chemo started. Then I discovered that radiation was just the warm-up. Cancer treatments weren’t for the faint of heart.

  I figured the bigwigs with the Storm were just allowing me to ta
g along because I didn’t have a whole lot to do these days. Maybe a little bit because they felt sorry for me, too, but this was one instance where I was more than willing to take advantage of some pity.

  Plus, I thought it helped Dad not worry too much, and that could only help him to perform in games the way he needed to. Some days I thought my cancer was harder on my parents than it was on me. Not physically, so much, but emotionally. I didn’t want to die, but I’d just kind of resigned myself to the fact that it might happen. They hadn’t. Not yet, at least. And so they hovered. And worried. And cried.

  I wished they would just accept that it might happen. That would be a whole lot easier for all of us.

  With my treatments making me so sick, the school district had assigned me a laptop and had given me access to online coursework and a tutor who came to my house once a week for two hours. All I did other than my online classes and tutoring sessions was sleep, puke, try to imagine myself healthy again, and follow the Storm. Everything else had been put on hold—indefinitely.

  That last bit, getting to follow the Storm, was the only part of my life keeping me sane, at least now in the early stages of chemo. I’d been going stir-crazy without school and Glee Club and all the other regular teenager things filling my days, and going to their practices and games gave me something to focus on other than how sometimes I wished it would just end, whatever that meant. They gave me something to believe in, and there hadn’t been much of that lately.

  My eyes followed my dad as he skated off the ice, gave me a brief wave, and headed down the tunnel with the rest of the guys. It was now or never. I didn’t want to lie to Mom, but if I was going to go through with this, I didn’t have much choice because of her hovering-to-keep-me-alive thing.

  Cancer sucks and it kills a lot of people, and there was no question I might die, but it probably wasn’t going to happen today. I was pretty sure I’d feel a lot worse than I did before it was all over. Not that I wanted to feel worse. I just wanted it to end.

  I turned toward Mom and tried to look green, which wasn’t all that hard these days. “I think I might be sick.”

  “Oh, Katie, today? You don’t usually get sick so many days after a treatment…”

  I put my hand up to my mouth, as though I was trying to hold back some puke. “Yeah. Today. I’ll meet you by the parking garage when I’m done.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to argue. I took off at a run, bolting up the stairs away from the Moda Center’s ice with my hand over my mouth the entire way. I left my jacket, purse, and the throw blanket she’d brought with us to keep me warm behind with her. That way she’d have to gather it all up before she could follow. That should give me enough time to get to the bowels of the arena instead of making a beeline for the bathroom without her seeing where I was heading.

  Sure enough, I got onto the elevator and the doors closed behind me without Mom appearing in the concourse.

  I got off at ice level, and I made my way along the concrete walkway toward the Storm’s offices and locker room. When I got to the double doors I was looking for, Daniel “Hammer” Hamm, one of the assistant coaches, was just making his way out and preparing to let the press in. They were standing just outside the doors, three men who’d become increasingly more familiar to me over the last few weeks.

  I needed to get in before the press. They would be in there too long. I couldn’t wait for them to finish and leave or else Mom would really freak out. If they beat me inside, I’d have to just go meet Mom and forget all about talking to Dad without having her around.

  “Hammer!” I called out, still from some distance away. I was proud that I only sounded a little panicky, not like I was in a full-fledged freak-out.

  He looked at me with his eyes squinting into a funny expression. I jogged the rest of the distance even though it left me winded so he wouldn’t have to wait too long for an explanation, and so I wouldn’t have to keep shouting. All three of the media guys spun their heads around to stare at me, too. I wished they would back off.

  “Can I get in there for a minute?” I asked. “There’s something I need my dad for. It should only take a few minutes.”

  He frowned. “What do you need that can’t wait until he gets home, Katie? We have to let the media in…”

  I reached into my pocket and showed him what I’d placed in there before leaving home this morning, keeping it hidden from the reporters who were craning their heads to see while trying to pretend that they weren’t doing exactly that.

  Hammer looked down at my hand and swallowed hard a couple of times. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, like Dad’s did when he was trying not to get emotional. Then he nodded, and I put my hand back in my pocket.

  “Let me go back in and make sure all the boys have clothes on so your dad doesn’t have to kill anyone,” he said. “Stay right here.” He looked over to the press, who were waiting for their chance to go in and interview some of the players. “It’s going to be a few more minutes, guys. Sorry.”

  A moment later, he opened one of the doors and let me in, closing it firmly behind me so no one else could follow. I made my way straight for my dad’s stall.

  He shook his head when he saw me, a slight frown turning down the corners of his lips. His eyes looked tired, with red streaks and bags under them. He’d only started looking like that and showing his age recently. I hated that I was the reason why.

  “What’s going on, Katie?” he asked.

  I took a deep breath for courage. Then I emptied my pocket again and held the clump of my hair up for him to see. “It’s starting to fall out. I don’t want to wait and have it leave me with bald patches. I just want to shave it off.” My voice kept cracking over the words, which sucked. I didn’t want anyone to know how scared I was.

  I’d woken up this morning and had nearly gotten sick when I found this big wad on my pillow. Heck of a way to wake up. Some more had come out when I’d brushed my hair, leaving a bald patch in the back that I’d had to hide with strategic barrette placement. I hadn’t wanted Mom to see it. Or Luke and Dani, my younger brother and sister. They all worried so much, and this would only make the fears more real—bring them closer to coming true. As long as I had hair, we’d been able to pretend that I was just a little sick. This was going to shoot that idea out of the water, though.

  It was unnaturally quiet in the locker room. The team had been playing well lately, winning more than losing, so that meant they were usually laughing and joking with each other when they were all together, keeping things loose. So I knew the guys were listening, even if their heads were turned away and they were pretending to keep busy with other things. It didn’t matter if they heard, though. They could handle this—a lot better than Mom could, at any rate. Maybe better than I could.

  Dad stared at the hair in my hand for a minute and then kissed my forehead. “Does your mom know you’re down here?”

  “No. I told her I felt sick and I’d meet her at the garage.”

  “She’s going to kill me.” His jaw was tight, like he was grinding his teeth, and his Adam’s apple bobbed hard a couple of times.

  I nodded. “It’ll be better this way.” Maybe not better, but at least easier.

  “I know.” He turned to Cam Johnson, one of his teammates, who was a few stalls down. “Jonny? You have your hair clippers here?” Jonny had kept his hair buzzed short, like a military cut, for as long as I’d known him.

  “Yeah, gimme a sec.” He reached overhead and took out a shoebox. He brought it over to us. “You want me to do it?”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Dad said. His voice kept getting heavier, deeper. He was barely keeping it together. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to do this with his teammates all around. Maybe I should have just kept trying to hide it with barrettes until I couldn’t hide it any longer.

  “Use one of the guards first until you get most of her hair off,” Jonny said. “Then go back over it without a guard. That’ll help keep it from pulling and hurting h
er.” He winked and gave me a kind smile before he went back to doing whatever he’d been doing.

  “Okay.” Dad sorted through the guards in the box. He selected one and settled it over the cutting mechanism.

  “Here, Katie,” a deep voice said from behind me.

  I turned to see Eric Zellinger, the team captain, holding a folding chair and a towel. “Sit down,” Zee said. “We’ll put this over your shoulders to catch the hair.”

  I nodded, biting down on my lip. A lot more of the guys were getting involved in this than I’d counted on. This was turning into something bigger than I’d expected, and it made me wish I’d thought it through better. All I’d been thinking about was Mom and her hovering.

  He set the chair on the floor, and I dropped onto it. Dad put the towel around my shoulders. I removed the barrettes from my hair and stuck them in my pocket, not that I’d need them again anytime soon. I held the ends of the towel together in the front, staring down at my lap so he should have easy access. My hands were shaking, so I pressed my fingers tight to my chest so maybe the guys wouldn’t notice how worked up I was.

  The clippers buzzed to life by my ear, but then nothing happened. I lifted my head. At least half the team had stopped what they were doing to watch, some of them shifting uncomfortably. I didn’t mean to make them uncomfortable. I just didn’t know what else to do without upsetting Mom.

  “You sure you’re ready?” Dad asked. His voice cracked just like mine had.

  I wasn’t even close to ready and I couldn’t make my body stop shuddering, but I said, “Yes. Do it.” I tilted my head back so I could see him, and I gave him a big, fake smile before lowering my head again. I’d always been a good actress, but based on the way his eyes were shining, he hadn’t bought it this time.

  My attention shifted to Babs—Jamie Babcock, the youngest guy on the team, and the one I’d had the hugest crush on for forever. Or at least since I’d first met him when he’d started playing for the Storm. He looked as green as I’d tried to be in order to convince Mom I was sick. I didn’t want him to see me bald—he might turn his back on me as fast as all my school friends had—but I couldn’t kick him out. I was the intruder here, not him. Besides, I was going to be bald one way or another soon. Unless I was planning on hiding out in my bedroom for the next several months, chances were he was going to see me like that.