A Better Man (21 page)

She flashed him the most forced, scary-­looking grin he'd ever
seen.

“Well, that's a st
art.”

Across from him Lucy took his cue, put her book aside, and leaned in to engage Nicki in a conversation about the upcoming prom. It took a few minutes before Nicki warmed up to the discussion. When she finally did, she amazingly still managed to flash him the death g
lare.

All he could do right now was close his eyes, wish the jet had booze on board, and pray all the way to North Caro
lina.

L
ucy followed Jordan and Nicole into Jordan's high-­rise apartment. While the place was nice, with everything in rich dark wood, black leather, and granite, it wasn't overly extravagant like she'd expected. She'd have thought he lived like a spoiled superstar in a huge house with useless rooms he never bothered to visit. He certainly portrayed that image when the paparazzi captured him leaving a celebrity event or fancy restaurant with a gorgeous blonde on his
arm.

The furnishings were definitely masculine, so it seemed almost comical to imagine him standing in a Home Goods store selecting the delicate rose and lily centerpiece in the middle of the big black dining table or the modern pieces of art and mirrors on the walls. The fact that the place was spotless led her to believe he had help come in and c
lean.

“I only have two bedrooms,” he announced as he parked Lucy's suitcase by the sofa. “Nicki, I'll put you in the one down h
ere.”

Lucy followed as he led his sister down the hall and into a nice-­sized room with a queen-­sized bed and a private bath. Again, the room had a masculine flair, but Lucy didn't think Nicole would mind. She might protest loudly, but Lucy couldn't help thinking the young girl was more than a little excited that her big brother had seen fit to bring her a
long.

“It has a smart TV with every cable channel you can think of.” He tossed her bag on the bed. “If there's something specific you want to watch, just order it on Netf
lix.”

“Whatever.” Nicole rolled her
eyes.

“Yeah.” He si
ghed.

As Lucy followed him back out into the hall, she wished she could resolve the reason for Nicole's anger. No doubt the girl was complex. Alarmingly, it seemed the girl couldn't push past her anger enough to be able to grieve the loss of her parents. Maybe Jordan was right. Maybe with a little time together, Lucy could at least begin to unders
tand.

“I'll put you in my room,” Jordan said to Lucy, grabbing her bag from the living room f
loor.

“But where would you sl
eep?”

“On the s
ofa.”

“Don't be silly. I can't push you out of your bed. You have to be at the top of your game over the next couple of d
ays.”

When they reached his room—­the epitome of black leather manliness—­he stopped and turned toward her. The way his lips curled up at the corners and the glimmer in his eyes sent a rush of warmth from her heart down through her core. She barely resisted a lusty shu
dder.

“So you're saying you're willing to share a bed?” he a
sked.

“I . . . uh . . .” she sputt
ered.

“It's a king-­sized bed. You won't even know I'm th
ere.”

“You're a little hard to m
iss.”

He set her bag on the bed and moved so close she could smell his clean, manly scent. “I could keep you warm if you got c
old.”

The idea of having his big, warm, muscular body wrapped around hers sounded very appea
ling.

“There's nothing to eat in here.” Nicole's shout rattled from the kitchen throughout the apart
ment.

“Try the top shelf in the cupboard. It's where I keep the forbidden food,” Jordan shouted back to his sister, then his attention zeroed right back in on Lucy. Strong arms surrounded her and drew her against his hard-­muscled
body.

“You keep thinking on my offer.” He lowered his head and delivered a sweet and deadly kiss that was way too quick for Lucy's liking. “It won't be the last time you hear
it.”

“What about the teenager in the other room?” Although Lucy liked the way he staked his claim because she'd never had a man do that before, she had to bring up the obvious. “I'm her teacher. I need to set a good exam
ple.”

“You're an excellent example. And she'll have to find her own snuggling partner,” he said. “Maybe I should get her a
cat.”

At their feet Ziggy swept his tail back and f
orth.

“What do you think about that, Zigmeister?” Jordan asked her dog, who gave a growly bark in response. “Unless he eats c
ats.”

“The only things he eats are Frisbees, Beggin' Strips, and the best brand of dog food on the market. Which obviously does not help his
wind
prob
lem.”

“Ah. So you're one of
those
pet momm
ies.”

“Yes. I spoil him. Is there something wrong with t
hat?”

“Nope. Just trying to figure out how to get in line for some of that spoil
ing.”

She grinned. “All you have to do is sit and lie down when you're told. Don't chase your tail. And warm my feet when they get c
old.”

“Done.” He grinned back. “And as a bonus I'm already housebro
ken.”

“You're a strange and funny
man.”

“I can show you a whole different side of me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Preferably a naked
one.”

“We'll see.” Playful really wasn't her thing. Neither was flirting. But she decided to give both a go. “It all depends on how well you perform your tri
cks.”

His responding grin told her she'd hit a home
run.

“Lucky for me I've got a bag
ful.”

With a playful wink he told her to go ahead and use whatever drawers she wanted to put away her things, use as much space in the closet as she needed, then pointed to the adjoining bathroom for her to put out her toiletries. And then he slipped from the room to help Nicole, who complained loudly that forbidden food did not include all-­natural granola bars with no s
ugar.

Lucy stood in the middle of the room surrounded by his massive bed and his personal items. It smelled like him—­delicious, clean, and manly. This was where he bathed, dressed, slept, and God only knew what else. Yeah. She wasn't even going to think about
that
. She did not want to think about him in that big bed wrapped around the perfect body of one of those gorgeous blondes she'd seen photographed with him in the magaz
ines.

Lucy carried her toiletries into the bathroom and inhaled the delicious aroma of his trademark aftershave. When she walked back into the bedroom, she looked at the bed again. Unsure of exactly what he expected from her, she knew one thing and one thing only. Jordan looked like a man who knew how to give a woman what she wanted and needed. Lucy was a woman who'd never wanted or needed be
fore.

Until
now.

Chapter 11

O
ver two weeks had passed since Jordan had walked into a locker room. He expected to feel like an outsider. To be given the cold shoulder. After all, he'd let his team
down.

Letting people down seemed to be the thing he did
best.

If anyone doubted his expertise in this area, all they had to do was ask his sister. She'd verify it in a red-­hot se
cond.

“Good to see you, man.” Center Tyler Seabrook stood and shook his hand the minute he walked into the locker room. Likewise did defenseman Beau Boucher, goalie Jack Riley, and forward Scott O'Reilly who'd recently married the nurse who stitched him up when he'd busted his face on the bo
ards.

They asked about his family. Gave him their condolences. Apologized for not being able to attend the funeral. And proved, once again, they were good men off as well as on the ice. Of all the players on the team, the four of them were his closest friends. They partied, shot pool, played poker, and golfed together. Until two weeks ago they'd had everything in co
mmon.

Seabrook pushed a hand through his hair and scratched at the beard stubble on his jaw. “You up for a couple of beers after pract
ice?”

“Wish I could. I brought my kid sister back with me. She's been having a pretty tough time since our parents died.” Jordan shrugged. “She's seventeen and full of attitude on a normal day. But right now she's breaking my heart. I didn't feel good about leaving her beh
ind.”

“Maybe while she's here I could have my cousin Bridget give her a call. She's seventeen too, a little nerdy, and kind of a genius. But she's really n
ice.”

“I like smart gi
rls.”

“Oh yeah?” Seabrook grinned. “Since w
hen?”

Jordan shoved his jacket inside his locker, opened his duffel bag, and pulled out his practice jersey. “Since I was a punk-­ass
kid.”

“What happened to your passion for long-­legged blondes with IQs smaller than their bra size?” Seabrook a
sked.

“My tastes have recently changed to glasses-­wearing brunette schoolteach
ers.”

“Every man's fant
asy.”

“Yeah, but this one's m
ine.”

“Does she know t
hat?”

“I'm working on
it.”

“What?” Seabrook laughed as he slipped his jersey over his shoulder pads. “You have to do more with this one than snap your fing
ers?”

“It's complicated.” Jordan pulled out his skates and set them on the bench in front of his lo
cker.

“I think I'm looking forward to meeting this mystery schoolteac
her.”

“Yeah. Well, hands off when you
do.”

“Oooh. This just keeps getting better and better.” A grin that had women falling at his feet spread across Seabrook's face as he grabbed his stick. “Good to have you back, buddy. Hope you can still pass the p
uck.”

“Ha.” Jordan hoped so too. He'd never gone so long without strapping on his skates be
fore.

While he finished putting on his gear he noticed that not everyone was happy to see him back. The vibe he picked up from the Rock was more than just a passing state of pissed
off.

Not that Jordan didn't understand the man's frustra
tion.

The team had needed him to help them toward winning the Cup and he hadn't been there. And now they were falling short of what they needed to go all the way. But enough was enough with the dark glares burning holes in his backside. Jordan had his own frustrations. Like his grumpy little sister who currently sat in the stands above the locker room tunnel, and Lucy who was in such foreign territory she almost backed
out.

When he finally shushed out onto the ice it was like he'd never missed a beat. He looked up and gave Lucy and Nicki a wave just as the Rock gave him a big shove. Had Jordan not been prepared for it, he would have gone flying. Because his sister and Lucy were watching he ignored the vicious push, skated to his position, and readied for the warm
-­ups.

“Nice to have you back.” Coach Reiner gave him a friendly nod that contradicted the harsh texts he'd sent just a day
ago.

At the other end of the line the Rock stood with at least twenty guys between them. However, with each relay the big man with an angry, battle-­scarred face only a mother could love, drew closer. By his aggressive glare Jordan knew his teammate was looking for a f
ight.

By the time they got around to practicing shots and passes, Jordan ignored the heat coming his way and focused on his
job.

Forward Scott O'Reilly passed the puck on a long drive toward the blue line. Jordan got in position to slap the puck into the net. The next thing he knew he was flat on his back and the Rock was standing over
him.

“Get up, you backstabbing fucker,” the Rock sna
rled.

Backstab
bing?

Jordan had been called many things. Most had been appropriate. The Rock's slur was
not.

The stress and the frustration of the past two weeks blew wide open like a lit box of TNT. Jordan came up off the ice, dropped his gloves, and grabbed the Rock by the front of his jersey. The Rock grabbed back but couldn't get a good
grip.

A scream reverberated through the arena and Jordan snapped his head around to find Nicole pounding on the g
lass.

“Get your filthy hands off my brother, you ugly dip
wad!”

At the moment Jordan had the advantage with one hand wrapped in the Rock's jersey and the other fist pulled back ready to deliver a haymaker. Misplaced or not, pride burst through his chest that his temperamental little sister wanted to come to his def
ense.

The Rock turned his glare back to Jordan and sneered. “You pussy. You have to have a little baby bunny save your
ass?”

“Not this time.” Jordan delivered the punch and knocked the Rock off his sk
ates.

“Yeah!” Nicki sho
uted.

Jordan winced as he heard his sister yell. When he looked up to the stands, Lucy had her hand over her mouth and his sister was doing some kind of crazy touchdown d
ance.

As he stood over the Rock, who was laid out on the ice grabbing his sore jaw with an ungloved hand, Jordan pointed a finger. “Enough. If you have a legitimate complaint with me, you bring it to me like a man. Not like some backyard brawler waiting to catch me off guard. I'm sorry that it inconvenienced you when my parents were burned alive in a helicopter crash, but my family comes first. You don't like it, too fucking
bad.”

Heart pumping, Jordan skated off to rejoin his
team.

“You done?” Coach folded his arms and lifted a
brow.

Jordan no
dded.

Seabrook leaned over and chuckled. “
Really
fucking nice to have you b
ack.”

Standing on the ice with his team felt great. Jordan had missed it. But as he looked up into the stands one more time and found Lucy and Nicki with their heads together, obviously talking about what had just happened, Jordan knew he'd give up everything to make things r
ight.

“
D
id you see that?” Nicole was practically bouncing out of her Ugg b
oots.

Lucy wondered at the enthusiasm Nicole displayed over the violence. As she gave a simple nod, it worried
her.

“That was badass.” Nicole flopped down into the seat next to
Lucy.

For obvious reasons Lucy hated violence. She hated confrontation of any kind. Oh, she had no problem standing up for herself these days, but that didn't mean she liked to engage unless it was absolutely necessary. She'd watched the big man push and taunt Jordan, and she knew Jordan wasn't the type of person to take it for too long. When the man had used his stick to whack Jordan across the chest and knock him off his skates, like Nicole, she'd felt a needy rush to retaliate. Instead she'd closed her eyes and prayed he was
okay.

Fighting was a huge part of what he did for a li
ving.

How he managed to deal with such aggression on a regular basis she didn't understand. She'd not seen that side of him until now. Knowing it wasn't the same as seeing it. Not that it made her afraid of him; it was just one more facet of his persona
lity.

“Should I be worried that seeing your brother fight excited you?” she asked Ni
cole.

“No.” The teen dropped her shoulders and sighed. “Nobody gets me. Why is that? I have five brothers. Five! And not a single one of them has a clue who I
am.”

“I think you have to actually talk to them rather than snarl at them for them to understand. I know they want
to.”

“And that's why Jordan brought me al
ong?”

Lucy nodded. “You can think what you want about him but he truly loves you. And he's worried. I think if you give him a chance he'll surprise you. He won't quit on you. He wants you to be happy and he can't figure out what's wr
ong.”

“It's a long story.” Nicole leaned back against the seat like all hope was
lost.

Lucy's heart
sank.

“I'm not who my brothers think I
am.”

“Then maybe you should enlighten t
hem.”

“I don't want them to hate me. Which is dumb because they probably already do. But . . . they're all I h
ave.”

“They would never hate you. Nothing you tell them is going to change the fact that they love you and they want the best for you.” Lucy couldn't imagine what could possibly be tearing apart this beautiful young girl. Losing her parents hadn't started this problem, but it had certainly added to the enormity. “I know it's scary when you're about to graduate from high school because you feel like you're just being tossed out into the world unprepared. So if you have feelings of ambiguity, I think you shouldn't worry so much. Your brothers will help you make the right choices. All you have to do is let them know what's going
on.”

Nicole scoffed. “I wish it were as easy as being afraid to step out into the world past graduating from high school. Which—­I know, I know—­I won't get to do unless I bring my grades
up.”

Lucy knew she was walking a fine line between teacher and friend. But she'd wanted to be a teacher so she could help kids. And right now, this one in particular seemed to need her friend
ship.

She put her arm around Nicole. “I promise I'll help you graduate if you promise you'll at least put in the effort to do the w
ork.”

The girl looked up, her blue eyes watery. “Why do you want to help me? I've been such a .
 . .”

“B
rat?”

That brought the hint of a s
mile.

“I was seventeen once,” Lucy said. “It was one of the hardest years of my life. Or so I thought. When I look back now it wasn't so bad. I don't know what's going on that's making you so miserable, and I'm not asking you to tell me—­although I've got a soft shoulder you can cry on whenever you need it. All I want to do is help you get through it. I think you're a wonderful girl. You have talent, and brains, and you're strong. I know you
are.”

“I
am?”

Lucy no
dded.

“Everyone else just tells me I'm pre
tty.”

“Well . . .” Lucy chuckled. “You're that too. But you're so much more. Don't ever judge yourself or let others judge you solely based on your looks, Nicole. You should judge yourself on your heart, your integrity, and your willingness to step outside the box others want to paint you in, so you can just be
you.”

“Is that what you've lear
ned?”

“I learned a long time ago that I'm not the Miss America type, but I'm smart and I have talents maybe not a lot of other people have and I'm totally okay with t
hat.”

“What kind of tale
nts?”

“Well . . . I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue. I can write love stories. I can even start and finish the entire book I've written without editing chapter one a hundred times. I can do a triple back flip that would make most cheerleaders green with envy. And I can make treasure out of trash I find at flea mark
ets.”

Nicole smiled. Then she did the unexpected. She melted into Lucy's embrace and returned the
hug.