Pucked (16 page)

Her hand flutters delicately to her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“
I wanted to explain—”

She stalks over and shoves her finger into my chest. “Explain what exactly?” She uses one of those angry whispers despite the door being closed.

“
The Hat Trick. The story isn’t true.” She’s still digging her nail into my chest. The contact is nice even if it’s aggressive. Although there’s a chance it may be a precursor to some real violence.

“
I saw the interview you did. It’s on YouTube.”

“
Which one?”

She glowers. “Which one do you think?”

I try not to react. I know the interview she’s talking about. It’s atrocious. In fact, it shot a number of endorsement opportunities—unless I wanted the genital herpes campaigns. The trashy gossip spotlight did nothing good for my career. “I never admit to having sex with three women in one night.” I didn’t contest the assumption, which is as good as confirming it in most people’s eyes.

“
Like hell you didn’t.” Violet stomps to the laptop.

It takes her three seconds to pull up the interview and another twenty to find the Hat Trick part. She must have watched it more than once. I can’t decide if this is a good or a bad thing. It means she’s been thinking about me, but probably not in the way I’ve been thinking about her.

This interview went live a few weeks after the incident took place. I’d grown accustomed to omitting details, especially where my sex life was concerned. At first, the way the media misconstrued everything was funny. After a while, I became resigned to the annoyance. Now I wish I’d handled things differently.

“
Right here.” She jabs at the screen.

“
You should listen again.” I know exactly what I said, since it’s bitten me in the ass so many times.

Violet sneers. It’s sexy-scary. “All righty, then.”

Interviewer: “There’s been a lot of talk regarding your sexual exploits recently. I’m wondering if you’d like to elaborate on the Waters Hat Trick for us.”

I can feel Violet’s angry glare.

Me: “I’m not really a kiss-and-tell kind of guy.”

Interviewer: “Rumor has it some of the women you’ve been with aren’t so tight lipped. I’ve heard the hat trick actually has nothing to do with your skills on the ice, would that be accurate?”

Violet stares at the wall and fidgets with the collar of her shirt. I want to do the same. The interview was horrifically invasive. I was appalled by the questions and that Dick had approved them.

Me: “That’s quite the rumor.”

Interviewer: “Would you like to substantiate it? I’m sure your female fans out there would like to know.”

Me: “Like I said. I don’t kiss and tell.”

Violet hits pause. “Right there.” Despite her triumph, I can see it’s all bravado.

“
That’s not an admission of anything.”

“
It’s certainly not a denial.” She crosses her arms over her chest. No one really challenges me unless I’m on the ice. It makes me want to follow through on the conference table fantasy, but the interview is ruining my chances of that ever happening.

“
It’s an old interview.”

“
What does that have to do with anything? You made no attempt to correct them if they were wrong, which is hard to believe.”

“
The media likes to twist things around.”

“
Do they? You’re the one who showed up at my hotel room in the middle of the night so we could ‘hang out.’ You’re the one with the
sleeve
of damn condoms at the ready. Judging from all the shit floating around out there on the Internet, I don’t think the media is far off the mark.” She flails, pointing at the screen, then me, and then the screen again.

“
I’m trying to explain—”

“
Why bother? I don’t get it. I’m just another woman you’ve stuck your monster cock in. I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t need to account for where else you’ve put it.”

Her eyes are shiny, the way my sister’s get when she’s on the verge of tears. Oh shit. What if I make her cry?

“
I want a chance to defend myself before you lump me in with all the other assholes out there.”

“
You’ve done a pretty good job all on your own.”

The door rattles, followed by a soft knock. “Violet?” It’s a deep male voice. I don’t like it.

Violet’s relief isn’t what I want to see. She tries to sidestep me, but I’m bigger, faster. A decade of figure skating helps. Violet trips over my foot, giving me the perfect excuse to touch her.

It happens in one of those slow motion sequences. As she falls, I wrap my arm around her waist and spin her body toward me, righting her. She ends up pressed against me, her face mashed into my chest. She’s so warm, and small, and soft in all the right places. She smells fantastic—like fabric softener and fresh shampoo. She lets out the tiniest whimper, gripping my shoulders rather than pushing away. Of course, the guy on the other side of the door ruins the moment by knocking again rather vigorously.

“
I-I need to let Dean in,” she says softly, her eyes fixed on my chin.

“
I want to ask one thing first.” I hold her tightly, battling an inconvenient hard-on.

“
I need to . . .” Her fingernails dig in harder, and I feel the slight shift of her hips. That last part may be wishful thinking.

“
Have coffee with me. Or tea or beer, whatever you want to drink. We can even go for chocolate milk. I just want to talk.”

She peers up at me, her chest brushing against my ribs. I remember with unparalleled clarity what her nipples feel like in my mouth. I’m getting harder by the second. If she feels it, I’m screwed. Letting her go isn’t an option until she agrees to go out with me. It’s a conundrum.

“
Why?”

“
Why what?”

“
Why do you want to have a drink with me?”

“
Because I like you. Because you’re fun. Because I want to get to know you better. Because I want you to see for yourself I’m not the kind of guy you think I am.”

Her silence lasts a long time. “One drink.”

“
Yeah?”

She nods.

“
Are you free this afternoon?” I don’t want to give her a chance to change her mind.

“
I should be done at five today.”

“
I could take you for dinner—”

“
No meals. Only one drink.” Her grip on my shirt loosens, and her fingers slide down my arms. “There’s a coffee shop across the street. I’ll meet you there.”

Dean knocks again. I unlock the door, open it two inches, and hold up a finger while giving him my fuck-off-or-I’ll-beat-you-with-my-hockey-stick look. Then I close it again and turn to Violet.

“
You’re not going to ditch me, are you?”

“
I don’t see the point. You’ll probably break into my house and I’ll find you hiding in my closet or under my bed if I do,” she says dryly, eyebrow raised as if challenging me to disagree.

“
I don’t think I’d go that far.” Even I have my boundaries in this stalking business.

“
You’ve locked me in a conference room with you. Who knows your limits?”

Before Dean has a coronary, I flip the lock and open the door again. He glances between me and Violet.

“
Alex Waters?”

“
I’m sorry if I’ve delayed your meeting.”

“
Can I get you, anything? Coffee? Water? Fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

I swear I hear
a hand job
come from behind me. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me.

“
I’m good. I already got what I came for.” I turn to Violet, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Even her ears are pretty. “I’ll see you at five.”

“
Okay.” She blushes and touches her hair, her smile suddenly shy.

Score one for Waters.

VIOLET

Dean gawks as Alex walks down the hall. “That was Alex Waters.”

“
Yup.”

Alex’s hands are shoved in his pockets and his head is bowed. His shoulders are so broad he nearly takes up the entire hallway. He’s a hard man to say no to. Coffee in a public venue seems safe.

Dean waits until Alex turns the corner. “He was here to see you?”

“
Yeah.”

“
He’s even hotter in person than he was in those pictures of you two making out.”

“
What?”

“
Uh, uh . . . I, uh . . . sorry. I didn’t mean . . . you look hot, too.” Dean busies himself with rearranging folders on the conference table.

“
Why is everyone so hot for Alex Waters?” I grumble. I’m annoyed at how easily I’ve fallen into this trap.

I attribute it to how good he looks when he’s clean shaven and nervous. I want, in a very desperate way, to believe he’s not a fuckwit-asshole-super-whore. I’m still glad I kept my appointment with the gyno last week. Bagged or not, I wanted to make sure I hadn’t contracted any diseases from chomping on rotten wood. From what I’ve read and seen, I’ve slept with a man who’s been with the equivalent of a brothel or two of women. I’m grateful all the results were negative.

“
Please tell me you’re going to bang him.”

I choke on a cough. “We’re going for coffee.”

“
That’s almost a date. You can totally have sex with him afterward.” Dean nods vigorously, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Charlene and Jimmy show up and save me from Dean’s inanity.

“
Charlene told off Alex Waters!” Jimmy says, gesturing wildly to the empty hall.

I gape in disbelief. “Charlene did what?”

“
I didn’t tell him off. I gently suggested he watch his ass or he’ll have me to deal with.”

“
You didn’t.” I palm my face, mortified.

“
He seemed very agreeable. All he did was nod a lot and apologize. I also asked if he could introduce me to Darren when you two are done making up. He offered to send tickets to the next home game, provided I bring you.” Charlene is all smiles.

I can’t believe Charlene sold me out for tickets to a game. She’s seen the Waters Hat Trick interview, I told her about the sexin’, his monster cock, the puking, the relentless emails, texts and phone calls, as well as the assload of gifts I’ve received courtesy of Alex Waters.

“
You can’t be serious.”

“
Oh, I’m totally serious. I’m not passing up a chance to see Darren Westinghouse play.”

“
Charlene, what if I don’t want to go to a game? What if I never want to talk to Alex ever again?”

Charlene turns my laptop toward her and checks out the interview again. I’ve probably made her watch it half a dozen times, dissecting the content or lack thereof. She seems far less offended by his non-responses. In all fairness, she hasn’t slept with him.

She props her chin on her fist, eyeing me speculatively. “He told me you agreed to coffee, so you must want to see him.”

“
Who says I’ll see him again after this?”

“
I understand the media stuff bothers you, but he seems to be honestly interested in you. I mean, it’s been weeks and he’s actively pursuing you even though you keep blowing him off.” A smug smile is plastered across her face. “Oh, and nowhere in this interview does he say he’s done that Hat Trick thing. All he does is give evasive answers.”

“
He doesn’t refute the claim.”

“
He was probably coached.”

“
As if that’s any better.”

Even my best friend is on Waters’ side. I blame it on his damn smile.

Today makes every other long day seem short by comparison. Meetings drag. Lunch takes forever. I’m distracted all afternoon working on one of the new accounts. I keep daydreaming about Alex’s unit, comparing it to household items.