Page 71 of Ice Wolf
Meanwhile, I smelled like a crusty old corner bar.
“You’d be surprised how quickly just about anything can be found. You have no privacy, no secrets either. Everything is ripped out into the open from the fact you had a broken arm as a kid to when you sat in a hospital doing your homework while your sister had her twelfth chemo treatment. Reporters are brutal animals.”
He sighed and looked away, the arrogant persona dropping at least for a few seconds. With his guard down, he almost carried an aura of sadness. Almost. But his Golden Retriever, sexier than ever smile returned in a flash.
“Did your sister really have cancer?”
As he’d done on the ice, he placed his hand over his heart, only this time his fingers were spread wide open. “You wound me at least once a day. Yes, she did.”
“Well, get used to the wounding as I plan on catching your every bad move, fiancé.” I hesitated to ask him anything else, but couldn’t help myself. “Did your sister recover?”
“Nope. She died.” He had a grave face before bursting into laughter. “No, she’s fine. She’s been in remission for years. She’s actually one hell of a tennis player. She could be the next Wimbledon champion.”
“You’re a shithead. You don’t jest about people dying, for God’s sake. Or about fake relationships either.” The edge in my voice softened. He wasn’t the only player in our fake arrangement.
He at least had the decency to act ashamed he’d sprung the news on me the way he had. His smile faded and for once, he appeared as if he was taking things seriously. “Look, I’m sorry about that.I don’t know what came over me. I just saw you on the ice and when you caught my jersey, I don’t know, the moment felt right. I just…” He laughed and scratched his head.
“Don’t flatter yourself or try and use that on me. It was an angle you thought would work and you took it without consulting with me.”
“Much like you did with my coach by telling him we would be living together without consulting me as to my thoughts ahead of time.”
Okay, so the man had a point. I exhaled and bit down on my inner cheek. This time, I tasted blood. Great. The night was just getting better and better.
“We’ll figure something out.”
“Word is already out we’re engaged, which means just about everyone on the planet will be getting in our personal space. We won’t be able to go anywhere without having our pictures taken. When they learn we’re living together, they’ll be peeking in the windows to catch us doing the hanky-panky.”
I almost jerked forward. “They will not do that.”
“Oh, yes, they will, honey bunchkins,” he tossed out. “You don’t know much about being a celebrity. Do you? For all the hype, it’s a pain in the ass.”
“Then why the hell do you do it?”
“The love of the game. Why else?”
There was such a different sound to his voice that I couldn’t come up with my usual quips. However, I already knew the man well enough to realize he had an angle for everything. What Ihad learned about puck bunnies was that they were voracious in their appetites and a man-whore like Saint Masters who had stars in his eyes didn’t mind being presented with every opportunity to grope their cleavage in public.
He was perhaps the biggest public relations nightmare my father’s company had ever been forced to deal with. Now he was my problem and since the rules continued to change, I was stymied as to the best way to tame the savage beast. Maybe I’d try being straightforward with him since very little else seemed to work.
“Well, you are good at playing hockey. Even if I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Hey, I’ll teach you if you’d like. We can even go out on the ice sometime. I mean, if you trust me enough, I won’t toss you under the Zamboni machine.”
“The what?”
“It’s an ice resurfacing machine.”
“Oh.” I don’t know how it happened, but I was now only a couple of inches from the man. Close enough every breath he took created a wave of heat. There was nothing worse than being attracted to a man I wanted to hate.
He pulled away from where he was leaning against the wall, now crowding the limited air space between us. “I’ll be happy to teach you anything you’d like to know. If you’re still interested.”
Being around him was entirely too oppressive. It was also creating the kind of desire that only existed in books. His charm wasn’t lost on me nor was his ability to turn it on and off athis whim. I wasn’t interested in being another conquest in his obviously long list of them.
“You do know the Wild Dogs are being called a bunch of party boys and players. Don’t you?”
The way he shrugged meant he knew but didn’t care. “I’ve heard and read it all before. They don’t know what they’re talking about or who we are as people.”
“They don’t care. Visuals are tough to fight, Saint. While it was apparent Rocco confronted you both times, they still have huge fans who’ll weave the stories differently. Perception is everything.”
