Scoring Lacey

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2011, Jenna Howard. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Lacey Magerin never expected her husband of twenty years to leave her for a twenty-two year old. She never expected her fifteen-year-old daughter to blame her for the divorce. Lacey also never expected Shayne Donnelly. The NHL goalie is her brother's best friend and is ten years younger than her. Neither of them know the rules in this new game but that's not stopping either of them from playing or finding love in the least likely place-on home ice.

For the one person who gets really excited for me when I tell her I sold, and who doesn’t mind when I tell her she’s not allowed to read what I write because the first one shocked the heck out of her. This one’s for you, Mom (that grain elevator you’ll never know about was just for you.)

Shayne Donnelly wondered what she was wearing under that little green dress. It was the neckline, he decided, that made him wonder. He was sure there was a technical term for the sequined fabric curving over her breasts like a lover’s hands. He didn’t care if they called it a dead-man-walking neckline. His finger itched to hook into the little dip between her tits and pull the glittery fabric down. Which nipple would he lick first? Left? Or right? It seemed very important for him to decide.

It was a dress meant for fucking. So was the woman.

The non-existent back curved over her plump ass...an ass that beckoned him to push that fabric up to her waist then bend her over the poker table. He’d fill his hands with that butt, parting the cheeks and then he’d bury his dick in her. He swore he felt that tight little hole stretching over his cock, felt her ass rubbing him as he plunged hard and fast.

He lifted his glass up as he next contemplated the short length of dress she wore. It ended high above her knees, revealing the longest legs he’d ever seen. They’d wrap around him a few dozen times as he plopped her ass down on the dessert table and fucked her hard. Maybe he’d pop one breast into the chocolate fountain and lick her clean. He’d leave her killer heels on so he felt the sharp heels digging into his ass each time they slammed together.

God almighty, he wanted to fuck her.

He wanted to fuck Lacey Magerin--until last year, Lacey Magerin-Hodges.

His cock pounded with the need to claim her. Any way, every way. Over and over until they were both dead.

His thoughts were going to get him killed.

He sipped his scotch as he envisioned the woman writhing naked in his thoughts. This was Lacey, he told himself.
Lacey
. Not some puck bunny who screwed around with anyone who had a helmet. She was a mother for crying out loud. The mother of teenage daughters at that. She was the oldest sister of his best friend. She had driven him and her brother Todd to hockey practice when they were kids. Damn it, she had even babysat him a couple of times. She had taught him and Todd how to drink when they turned nineteen.

None of this was helping drive the prurient thoughts from his brain. It was that green dress. He knew it. He never would have looked at her if she had been wearing black.

Maybe.

Maybe he needed to get laid.

A few of the ladies at the fundraiser were puck bunnies. He could tell. Sure they wore fancy dresses but they still wanted to sleep with hockey players. Any hockey player would do. Their panties dropped fast when the word NHL was tossed about. They didn’t care about him as a person, only that he was a goalie for the Houston Steam. His gaze scanned the room before returning to Lacey.

“Who’s the babe?”

Shit. He took another sip, contemplating the level of alcohol in his glass. Too much to excuse himself to the bar. Adam Payne stood beside him, drinking imported beer. The man crapped gold out of his ass and played center like an assassin--fast and lethal, especially with his slap shot. They didn’t get along. Never had, never would. Payne thought the world owed him because he could play hockey and was the son of a former mayor.

The two of them competed hard throughout their time at Magerin Hockey School. Shayne determined to prove to himself he wasn’t like his drunk of a father and Payne determined to remind Shayne he didn’t belong at the expensive school. They didn’t play the same position, nor on the same NHL team. That didn’t mean they didn’t try to flatten the other when they were on the same ice.

The press fed off the rivalry.

“Hm?” Shayne watched as Payne’s ice blue eyes immediately sought out Lacey. Her back was to them and Shayne wanted to pour his drink along that smooth plane of skin, then sip the expensive scotch from her skin. Paradise.

Payne just smirked and sipped his beer. Shayne fought the urge to punch him in the face. “Less watching from the bench, Donnelly.” He slapped Shayne on the back and sauntered across the room to hit on Lacey. Shayne decided not to warn him the woman was Lacey. This would be entertaining.

Fuck--unless she decided to sleep with Payne.

No, she wouldn’t do that. She was smart. Sex with Adam Payne would be...unbelievably stupid. That’s what Shayne told himself anyway.

He watched the approach of the NHL bad boy. As a waiter passed, Payne plucked a glass of champagne off the tray. He spoke to her back. The face-off would undoubtedly be something sexy. She turned. Home team grabs the puck. Visitors scramble. Grinning now, Shayne wandered over to the bar and ordered two Glenfiddich. Whistling the “Hockey Night in Canada” theme song, he approached the pair where home ice still had the advantage.

He had to give Payne credit. He tried to make it look like he hadn’t been hitting on her. He really did.

“You look stunning, Lace.” Shayne handed over the second drink and earned a smile.

“Thanks Shayne, you read my mind.”

“That you’re stunning?” Shayne met her gaze. In those towering heels they were the same height. “It’s a gift.”

An unladylike snort came from her as she took a sip. “I needed this.”

“When one gets hit on by Payne, alcohol is usually required.”

She grinned suddenly, her eyes crinkling around the corners while her nose made a little wrinkle. Payne called him a cocksucker under his breath while Lacey smacked his arm lightly. “You are so bad. You clean up pretty good though. A tux.” She bobbed her eyebrows up and down as she adjusted the shoulder of his jacket.

“What do you know?” Payne took a sip of his beer and gave Shayne a bored look. “You
can
clean up a dirt farm boy.”

Lacey’s eyes narrowed as she plucked a non-existent piece of fluff off Shayne’s jacket. Shayne took a sip of his drink, ignoring Payne. He had been called worse by better men.

“I like a little dirt under the nails,” Lacey said as she gave Payne a slow look up and down. “It gives a man character. Excuse us. Shayne promised me a dance.”

He couldn’t help his smirk as he took another sip of his drink then set the glass down on a table. “Can’t let a lady down. See you on the ice, Payne.”

“Count on it,” the other man growled.

Every July when school was out, the annual fundraiser for the Magerin Hockey School also included a hockey game. A little over thirty-three years ago, Lacey’s father, Coach Magerin, had retired from his short stint in the NHL. Coach had told Shayne it was because his family was growing, his home was here. Somehow Coach had gotten the idea to start up a hockey school. From kindergarten to grade twelve, students enrolled where they got regular schooling and learned hockey. There had been classes on contracts in high school, public relations and even how to find an agent. The Magerin Hockey School was why Granville had turned into a successful city in Saskatchewan. The news called their growing city the hockey capital of Canada. Some major companies had even relocated their headquarters here so kids could go to school because the odds were high that a kid who attended MHS would make it into the big league. Tonight’s fundraiser was for the scholarship program. Shayne had been a scholarship kid, so even when he didn’t attend he sent in a healthy chip. Without MHS, Shayne would never have escaped Granville.

Considering a lot of the alumni had gone on to play in the NHL or on the Canadian national team, the annual alumni game was always a good one.

Lacey set down her own drink along with a little gold purse that matched her heels. They walked towards the dance floor where couples were currently swaying to a Frank Sinatra song. The music ranged all over the place. Earlier he had watched Lacey’s mother, Dana Magerin, rocking out to AC/DC.

“Thirty years old and he’s
still
an asshole,” Lacey said as stepped into his arms.

Wow. She smelled really, really good. Dancing with her was not a brilliant idea.

“At ninety-five he’ll
still
be an asshole.” There was nowhere to put his hand but on her back. Her soft, silky back.
I am not getting a hard-on dancing with Lacey. I am not getting a hard-on dancing with Lacey.

He fought the urge to spread his fingers on all that warm skin and pull her close so her body rubbed against his hard-on. Her dark hair was pulled up into some kind of girly twist with curls tumbling down around her face, to the base of her neck. He wanted one of those curls to coil around his cock as she went down on him. Fuck.
Donnelly, get a grip on reality and not your dick
.

“I’m trying to remember the last time you were here for one of these things.” Whiskey bronze eyes searched his face, a little frown between her elegant eyebrows.

Really? Elegant eyebrows? He was a sick, sick man. “Four years ago.” Four years ago she had been married. The asshat had up and run off with a twenty-two year old last year. “How you holding up? Want me to beat your ex-husband with my stick?”

“Absolutely, but can we discuss the beating later? I want to enjoy myself tonight.” Her smile looked strained around the edges. Oh yeah, he was so going to beat up the asshat.

“Then you shall. Ready?” Before she could ask ready for what, he took her spinning across the dance floor in a series of quick turns. He brought her to a controlled stop, continuing to dance while she laughed with delight. Much better than her earlier attempt.

“Well, well, don’t you have hidden talents. Do it again.”

He did, managing to navigate them around the other dancers. At least it was a distraction from the arousal nipping at his system. Crap. He wished he had never noticed her. Could he go back to the moment when she was only his best friend’s older sister?

“You seem to know exactly what I need tonight.” She met his gaze, a soft smile appearing. “Thanks, Shayne.”

“More booze?” His naked body covering her naked body?

“God, yes.”

Reluctantly he released her and took her back to the tall table where their drinks waited. He rested his forearms on the table as he scanned the crowd. He spotted his friend, Todd Magerin, at the roulette wheel. His gaze shifted back to the woman. She was gorgeous.

Long, wavy chestnut hair, eyes the color of whiskey in a dark room, the Magerin nose that was a little big at the tip and a succulent mouth he definitely imagined wrapped around his cock. Her skin was almost copper in color and she had the most luscious ass.

She had modeled in her late teens and early twenties, even with a baby on her hip. Until the asshat had nipped that in the bud because he refused to have a successful wife. Irony was he had been her agent so he had to have known that those lean inches would make a successful model.

“You’re staring.”

Screw it. “You are one gorgeous woman.”

She paused in sipping her drink, studying him. “This a sudden realization?”

He tilted his head. “Yeah.”

A snort escaped her. “Thanks, babycakes.”

Mayday! Mayday!
Shayne caught her wrist when she went to walk away. “Before you were Todd’s beautiful oldest sister. But now,” he lifted a shoulder in a shrug even as the voice in his head told him to pull up before he crashed and burned, “you’re a gorgeous woman.”

Sweet God, would someone shut him up? He was not usually this idiotic around women. He was stumbling in the dark because all of a sudden Lacey was this tasty morsel he wanted in his mouth. Her gaze flicked over his face before she looked away.