Simply Irresistible (42 page)

When Georgeanne and Lexie had first found their seats, she’d been surprised to see him waiting for them. She hadn’t known what to expect from John’s grandfather, but he’d quickly put her at ease.

“Hello, Georgeanne. You look even more beautiful than I remember,” he’d said as he’d helped her and Lexie out of their jackets.

“And you, Mr. Maxwell, are twice as handsome as I remember,” she’d declared through one of her most charming smiles.

He’d laughed. “I always did like a southern gal.”

Suddenly the music stopped and the arena lights were extinguished, except for the two enormous Chinooks logos illuminated at each end of the ice.

“Ladies and gentleman, the Seattle Chinooks,” a male voice boomed from the speakers on the huge video Scoreboard. The fans went crazy, and amidst the screams and cheers, the home team skated onto the ice. Their white jerseys appeared stark in the darkness. From her position several rows above the blue line, her gaze scanned the back of each jersey until she found the name KOWALSKY printed in blue above the number eleven. Her heart fluttered with pride and love. That big man with the white helmet stuck low on his forehead belonged to her. It was so new and she was having a hard time believing he loved her. She hadn’t talked to him since he’d kissed her goodbye, and since then, she’d experienced horrible moments when she’d feared she’d dreamed the night before.

Even from a distance she could see that he wore pads on his shoulders and beneath the ribbed socks that covered his legs and disappeared beneath his shorts. He held a hockey stick in the big padded gloves on his hands. He looked as impenetrable as the name he’d been given, as solid as a wall.

The Chinooks sailed from goalpost to goalpost, then finally stopped in a straight line in the middle. The lights came up, and the Phoenix Coyotes were announced. But when they skated out onto the ice, they were greeted by an arena filled with booing Chinooks fans. Georgeanne felt so bad for the other team, if she hadn’t feared for her safety, she might have cheered.

Five players from each team stayed out on the ice and took their positions. John slid into the center face-off circle, put his stick on the ice, and waited.

“Kick some ass, boys,” Ernie yelled as soon as the puck was dropped and the battle began.

“Grandpa Ernie!” Lexie gasped. “You said a bad word.”

Ernie either didn’t hear or chose to ignore Lexie’s admonition.

“Are you cold?” Georgeanne asked Lexie over the noise of the crowd. They’d dressed for winter in white cotton turtlenecks, jeans, and wool-lined ankle boots.

Lexie kept her eyes glued to the ice and shook her head. She pointed to John, speeding down the ice toward them, his fierce gaze directed at an opposing team player who had the puck. He body-checked him so hard against the boards, the Plexiglas shook and rattled, and Georgeanne just knew they were going to break through the barrier and take out the crowd. She heard the heavy whoosh of air leaving both men’s lungs, and she was sure after such a pounding, the other man would have to be carried away. But he didn’t even fall down. The two men elbowed and hacked, and finally the puck sailed toward the Coyotes’ goal.

She watched John skate from one end to the other, grind someone into the ice, and steal the puck. The collisions were often brutal, like car collisions, and she thought of the night before and hoped he didn’t damage anything vital.

The crowd was wild, peppering the air with salty curses. Ernie preferred to direct the majority of his grievance toward the referees. “Open your damn eyes and pay attention to the game,” he hollered. Georgeanne had never heard so much swearing in such a condensed period of time, nor had she ever seen so much spitting in her life. Besides cursing and spitting, each team delivered pounding hits, skated fast, and hammered the goaltenders. By the end of the first period, neither had scored.

In the second period, John was given a penalty for tripping and ordered to the penalty box.

“You sons of bitches!” Ernie yelled at the officials. “Roenick fell over his own damn feet.”

“Grandpa Ernie!”

Georgeanne wasn’t about to argue with Ernie, but she’d seen John hook the blade of his stick in the other man’s skates and pull his feet out from underneath him. He’d made the whole maneuver look effortless, then he’d placed a gloved hand on his chest and looked so innocent, Georgeanne began to wonder if perhaps she’d imagined the other man sliding spread-eagle across the ice.

In the third period, Dmitri finally made a goal for the Chinooks, but ten minutes later, the Coyotes tied the score. Tension buzzed the air in the Key Arena, filling the fans and keeping them on the edges of their seats. Lexie jumped to her feet, too excited to sit. “Go, Daddy,” she hollered, as John fought for the puck, then barreled down ice. With his head down, he flew across the center line, then out of nowhere, a member of the Coyotes slammed into him. If Georgeanne hadn’t seen it herself, she wouldn’t have believed a man John’s size could cartwheel through the air. He landed on his back and lay there until the whistle was blown. Several trainers and the coach from the Chinooks bench ran out onto the ice. Lexie started to cry, and Georgeanne held her breath, a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Your daddy is okay. Look,” Ernie said, pointing to the ice, “he’s getting up.”

“But he’s hurt,” Lexie sobbed, watching John slowly skate, not toward the bench, but toward the tunnel the team exited through between periods.

“He’ll be fine.” Ernie put his arm around Lexie’s waist and pulled her to his side. “He’s ‘The Wall.’ ”

“Mommy,” Lexie wailed as tears streamed down her face, “go give Daddy a Band-Aid.”

Georgeanne didn’t think a Band-Aid was going to help. She wanted to cry, too, and kept her gaze glued to the tunnel, but John didn’t return. A few minutes later, the buzzer sounded and the game was over.

“Georgeanne Howard?”

“Yes?” She glanced up at a man standing behind her chair and rose to her feet.

“I’m Howie Jones, a trainer for the Chinooks. John Kowalsky asked me to come and find you.”

“How badly is he hurt?”

“I don’t really know. He wants me to take you to him.”

“My Lord!” She couldn’t imagine why he would ask to see her, unless maybe he’d been seriously injured.

“You better go,” Ernie said as he stood.

“What about Lexie?”

“I’ll take her home to John’s, and I’ll stay with her until you get there.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, thoughts spinning so fast in her head she couldn’t seem to grasp a single one.

“Of course. Now, go.”

“I’ll call and let you know what I find out.” She bent to kiss Lexie’s wet cheeks and grabbed her jacket.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have time to call.”

Georgeanne followed Howie between the portable stands and through the passage where she’d seen John disappear minutes before. They walked on thick, spongy rubber mats and passed men in security uniforms. She took a right and moved through a big room with a draped partition. Worry knotted her stomach. Something terrible must have happened to John.

“We’re almost there,” Howie told her as they headed down a hallway cluttered with men in suits or dressed in Chinooks team colors. They hurried past a closed door marked “Dressing Room” and took another right through a set of double doors.

And there John sat, chatting with a television reporter in front of a big blue Chinooks banner. Hair damp and skin shining, he looked like a man who’d played hard, but he didn’t look hurt. He’d removed his jersey and shoulder pads and wore a blue T-shirt that was wet and stuck to his big chest. He still had on his hockey shorts, ribbed socks, and big protective pads on his legs, but his skates were gone. Even without all his gear, he looked huge.

“Tkachuk put a good hit on you in the last five minutes of the game. How are you feeling?” the reporter asked, then shoved a microphone in John’s face.

“I’m feeling pretty good. I’m going to have a bruise, but that’s hockey.”

“Any plans to retaliate in the future?”

“Not at all, Jim. I had my head down, and around a guy like Tkachuk, you have to be on your game at all times.” He wiped his face with a short towel, then glanced about the room. He spotted Georgeanne standing in the doorway and smiled.

“The game was tied tonight. Are you satisfied with that?”

John turned his attention back to the man interviewing him. “Of course, we’re never satisfied with anything less than a win. We obviously need to take better advantage of power plays. And we also need to get some momentum going in our offense.”

“At thirty-five, you’re still ranked among the top players. How do you do it?”

He grinned and chuckled softly. “Oh, probably years of clean living.”

The reporter and cameraman laughed also. “What does the future hold for John Kowalsky?”

He looked in Georgeanne’s direction and pointed. “That depends on that woman right over there.”

Everything within Georgeanne froze, and she slowly turned to look behind her. The hall was filled with men.

“Georgeanne, honey, I’m talking to you. ”

She spun back around and pointed to herself.

“Remember last night when I told you that I would only get married when I’m crazy in love?”

She nodded.

“Well, you know I’m crazy in love with you.” He stood in his stockinged feet and held his hand out toward her. In a daze she walked toward him and put her hand in his. “I warned you that I wouldn’t play fair.” He grasped her shoulders and forced her to sit in the chair he’d just vacated. Then he glanced at the cameraman. “Are we still on?”

“Yep.”

Georgeanne looked up and her vision started to blur. She reached for him, and he grabbed her hand.

“Don’t touch me, honey. I’m a little sweaty.” Then he went down on one knee and looked her in the eye. “When we met seven years ago, I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m a different man now, and part of the reason I’m different is because of you. You came back into my life and made it better. When you walk into a room, I feel warm like you’ve brought the sun with you.” He paused and squeezed her hand. A bead of sweat slid down his temple and his voice shook a little when he spoke. “I’m not a poet or a romantic, and I don’t know the words to accurately express what I feel for you. I only know that you are the breath in my lungs, the beat of my heart, the ache in my soul, and without you, I am empty.” He pressed his hot mouth into her open palm and closed his eyes. When he looked at her again, his gaze was very blue and very intense. He reached inside the waistband of his hockey shorts and pulled out an emerald-cut blue diamond of at least four carats. “Marry me, Georgie.”

“Oh my Lord!” She could hardly see and wiped her eyes with her free fingers. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She sucked air into her lungs and looked from the ring back into John’s face. “Is this real?”

“Of course,” he answered, slightly offended. “Did you think I’d get you one of those fake diamonds?”

“I’m not talking about the ring.” She shook her head and wiped at the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Do you really want to marry me?”

“Yes. I want us to grow old together and have five more children. I’ll make you happy, Georgeanne. I promise.”

She gazed at his handsome face and her heart pounded. He wasn’t taking any chances. He had a television camera, a big diamond, and a crushing grip on her hand. Last night she’d wondered if he’d choose her. She’d wondered what she’d do if he did. Now she knew the answer to both questions. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Jesus,” he sighed, relief flooding his features. “You had me worried.”

Out in the stands, thunderous applause rolled through the arena, chased by a maelstrom of several thousand cheering fans. The walls of the arena shook with their enthusiastic response.

John looked over his shoulder to the cameraman. “Are we patched into the Jumbotron?”

The man gave a thumbs-up sign, and John turned his attention back to Georgeanne. He took her left hand and kissed her knuckles. “I love you,” he said, and slid the ring on her finger.

Georgeanne wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened herself against him. “I love you, John,” she sobbed into his ear.

He stood with her clinging to his neck and glanced at the men in the room. “That’s it,” he told them, and the camera was shut off. Georgeanne clung to him as they were congratulated, and she didn’t let go even after the last man filed out of the room.

“I’m getting you all sweaty,” John said, smiling down at her.

“I don’t care. I love you, and I love your sweat, too.” She rose onto her toes and pressed against him.

He gathered her close. “Good, because you’re responsible for a lot of it. There were a few seconds there when I thought you might say no.”

“When did you plan all of this?”

“I bought the ring in St. Louis four days ago, and I talked to the television guys this morning.”

“Were you so sure I’d say yes?”

He shrugged. “I told you I wasn’t going to play fair.”

She leaned back and kissed him. She’d waited a long time for this moment, and she poured her heart into it. Their mouths met, open and wet. She slanted her head to one side and licked the tip of his tongue. Her hands slid along his shoulders, up his neck, and into his damp hair.

Lust tugged at John’s groin, and he pulled away from Georgeanne’s sweet kiss. “Stop,” he groaned, and bending his knees, he shoved a hand inside his shorts and adjusted himself. His hard plastic cup pinched his testicles like a nutcracker, and he sucked in his breath to keep from swearing in front of Georgeanne. “My jock is getting real snug.”

“Take it off.”

“It’s about four layers down, and there’s something I have to do before I start peeling to my skin.” He straightened and read disappointment in her tilty green eyes.

“What could be more important than peeling down to your skin?”

“Nothing.” She wanted him, and the fact that she did filled him with macho, chest-pounding pleasure. He loved her in a way he’d never loved anyone else. He loved her as a friend, as a woman he respected, and as a lover he wanted every minute of every day. And she loved him. He didn’t know why she loved him. He was an ornery hockey player who swore too much, but he wasn’t about to question his good fortune.