Page 4 of My Brother's Enemy
Our table was in the corner, with the closest patrons five tables away, guaranteeing privacy. I wondered if he had requested this level of seclusion. Either way, I readied myself as I slid into the booth. He followed, sitting across from me.
The host left, and our server was at our side almost immediately. She brought water and asked for our drink orders. Her smile heated as she eyed Mr. Benoit. He was catnip for her. To his credit, he didn’t react. He asked what I’d like to drink, and I requested coffee.
She was either interested in him because he was good looking and well-off, which was obvious, or because she knew him already. I gauged her as she went to another table where a similarly good-looking man was dining. The extra warmth was missing from her demeanor.
Okay, then. That told me she knew Mr. Benoit andwhatshe knew about him made him appealing to her.
He’d been quiet, letting me look around the place before my gaze returned to him. As it did, he smiled and relaxed into his seat. “I was told you were like this.” He reached for his water and paused, considering me a moment before he took a sip. “You don’t miss much, do you? You scope out every detail. Is that what makes you so good at what you do?”
I measured his words, wondering if there was derision in them. I worked with mostly men. Some actively did not want women to be their equals, but I couldn’t find any hint of that in Mr. Benoit. Still, I couldn’t relax. I picked up my own glass of water.
His eyes sparked, noting my gesture.
Yes. He knew what I was doing, meeting him where he was. Some people did it unconsciously, matching the other person to make them feel comfortable. I did it consciously, and he was aware of this.
I’d been watching for some weakness in him but hadn’t found any. I needed something that would help me categorize Mr. Benoit and prepare me for what this meeting was about.
“Is that something Justin told you about me?” I asked.
An emotion flickered in his gaze before he took another sip, then set his water back down. “No. I?—”
He paused as the server returned with our drinks—along with her hopeful catnip smile. “Mr. Benoit, your bourbon. And, Ms. Connors, your coffee.” She glanced my way before leaving.
She wasn’t cold to me. She was merely indifferent. I was not her endgame.
I sighed and sat back. “Did you play professionally or in college? Hockey, I mean.”
He sputtered into his bourbon and his eyes went wide before he schooled his features back to faint amusement. “Professional for five years.” He leaned closer, the corner of his mouth liftingup. “Was it my ass that gave it away? I knew I shouldn’t have walked in front of you. Though I am proud I still have it.”
I didn’t comment on that, instead saying, “You wouldn’t give me your name before today. And I’m not a fan of small talk. Why don’t we cut to the chase, and you tell me why I’m here. Please tell me it does not have to do with hockey. I don’t work with hockey.”
One of his eyebrows shot up. “Teams as a whole or players individually?”
“Anything with hockey. I don’t do it.”
He nodded but still gave nothing away. “But you know hockey. You know it very well. Don’t you?”
I tensed. I wasn’t a secret, but no one in my family went around telling people who I was. In the hockey world, I was considered a nobody.
When I didn’t respond, he added, “You work mostly with football. American football.”
I gave a short nod. Everything about Mr. Benoit told me he’d done his research thoroughly. If he knew my history with hockey, he knew about the professional football teams I’d worked with, as well as the individual players. “If you please, Mr. Benoit?—”
“Call me Mal.” He groaned, shaking his head. “My dad is still very much alive, and I expect him to be behind me every time you say that name.”
Fine. “Why am I here, Mal?”
“You have two brothers who play in the NHL, a captain for Montreal and a center for Boston. Are they the reason you don’t work in the hockey world?”
My lips parted, becausedamn. That was hella personal. That was also some serious research skills for whoever found the connection. I was estranged from my brothers and our father for a reason.
Our server approached again. Mal held up his hand, holding her off.
Irritation spiked in me. He had controlled everything about this meet.
I wasn’t prepared to have him bring up my family.
“Yes, Mr. Benoi?—”
