Wicked Games (Denver Rebels) (9 page)

“I don’t know. Jeans, I guess.”

“Uh-uh. You have to wear something sexy.”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “I’m going to a hockey game, not the club. I want to be comfortable.”

“Girl, please,” Jess scoffed, flapping her hand. “There’s a time and a place to be comfortable, and this ain’t it. You know I love you, Nadia, but you need to step up your game in the wardrobe department. You’re gonna be competing with hot young white girls who don’t play around when it comes to getting their man. Have you seen what those chicks wear to professional sporting events? They dress sexy because it’s all about getting noticed by the players, not being comfortable.”

Nadia scowled. “They dress sexy because they’re thirsty groupies who have no damn self-respect. I’m not trying to look like some slutty—”

“Not slutty.
Sexy
.” Jess snapped her fingers. “Wear that black jersey dress you wore to the club last month. The one that makes you look super curvy and shows off your amazing ass. Dudes couldn’t keep their eyes off you that night.”

“Or their hands,” Nadia grumbled darkly. “I seem to recall getting groped one too many times in that dress. A couple times by
you
.”

Jess grinned. “What can I say? I was shitfaced drunk. And it’s not my fault you’ve got an irresistibly phat ass. Just make sure you wear a pushup bra to give yourself some cleavage. You know your girls need a little help. Ooh, and I’ll bring over my cute gold chain belt. It’ll look like you’re rocking the Rebels’ colors. And wear those spiky suede ankle boots. Those are
hot
.”

“They’re also scary to walk in,” Nadia said with a grimace. “What if I fall and break my damn neck while climbing up the steps at the arena?”

“Oh, stop it. You’re not gonna fall.” Jess’s eyes twinkled. “But if you do happen to take an embarrassing tumble, at least you’ll look hella good.”

Nadia snorted, shaking her head in amused disgust. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? And might I point out that I caught Reid’s attention while I was dressed the way I am now?”

“That’s true,” Jess conceded. “You’re a natural beauty, and Reid obviously recognizes that. Good on him. But just remember that he’s a fine ass hockey player who can have any woman he wants. If you want to hold his interest, it wouldn’t hurt to vamp it up a little.”

Nadia sighed. She’d never said anything about wanting to hold Reid’s interest, but rather than argue with Jess, she simply said, “I’ll take your advice into consideration.”

“Good. You’ll thank me later.”

“Sure,
Tyra
.” Nadia swiveled back to her computer. “Now that you’ve finished dressing me for the evening—right down to which bra I should wear—you need to scram so I can get some work done.
Capisci?
”

“I suppose.” Grinning, Jess pushed off the desk and sauntered toward the door. “Something tells me tonight is going to be
very
interesting.”

“I know,” Nadia murmured under her breath. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

*              *              *

When she arrived
home that evening, she was surprised to find a large gift-wrapped box sitting on the coffee table in the living room.

As she closed the front door, Nelson emerged from the kitchen drinking a glass of water.

“That just came for you.” At her questioning look, he grinned and held up a hand. “It’s not from me.”

Intrigued, Nadia dropped her purse on the sideboard and walked over to the gift box. It was gorgeously wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a black silk ribbon with a huge bow on top.

With mounting curiosity and excitement, she untied the fancy ribbon and removed the tape, careful not to tear the pretty paper. Nelson wandered over as she lifted the lid off the box and parted the sea of black tissue at the top.

She gasped in shock.

Nestled inside the box were several brand new designer handbags.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

Peering over her shoulder, Nelson asked, “What are those? Purses?”

“Not just any purses,” she whispered, lifting one out of the box. It was a vintage Chanel shoulder bag made of black caviar leather with the signature gold chain strap. She admired it for several moments before reaching for another one, a classic red flap bag.

“Damn,” Nelson exclaimed, picking up a quilted lambskin satchel. “How many are there?”

Nadia counted. “Seven.”

“
Seven?
” Nelson gave a long, low whistle. “That must have cost a fortune.”

“Definitely.” Nadia was smiling so hard her cheeks felt like bursting.

Nelson reached back inside the box and pulled out a small card. “Here. See who sent them.”

She knew even before she opened the envelope and read the words printed on the card:

For our next tug of war. One for every day of the week.

—
R.H.

Nadia didn’t know whether to laugh or let out a dreamy sigh. So she did both.

Nelson grinned knowingly. “Do I even need to guess who these are from?”

She couldn’t stop smiling. “They’re from Reid.”

“Of course.” Her brother’s grin widened. “What exactly happened between you two yesterday?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”
Nelson snorted. “A guy doesn’t drop thirty-five grand on a woman he just met over
nothing
.”

“How do you know how much he spent?” Nadia countered.

“I did the math. The purse you’re holding costs $4,900. I know because Bianca wants the same one. Assuming the rest of these bags are in the same price range, Reid spent at least $35,000. Plus tax.” Nelson grinned, shaking his head. “Dude’s got it
bad
.”

Nadia blushed, biting her bottom lip. She ran her hand over the luxurious leather bag, fingering the iconic gold interlocking Cs. She’d never owned such an expensive purse in her life, let alone
seven
of them. It was too much. Way too much.

Nelson snagged the card out of her hand and read the message, brows furrowing in bewilderment. “Tug of war?”

“Inside joke.” Nadia snatched the card back and put down the flap bag, then went to retrieve her phone from her purse—her cheap, practical, no-name purse that now seemed embarrassingly gauche in comparison.

Phone in hand, she padded back to the living room and flopped down on the sofa. As Nelson checked out the remaining bags in the box, she sent off a text to Reid:
Totally unexpected and amazing gifts. But u shouldn’t have.

She assumed she wouldn’t hear back from him since he was probably getting ready for tonight’s game. So she was surprised when her phone buzzed a minute later.

Do u like them?

Her pulse quickened. Grinning, she texted back:
It’s Chanel. What’s not to like?

He responded:
Glad u approve :)

Her grin widened.
U have excellent taste,
she wrote.
But what does a macho hockey player know about buying Chanel purses?

The salesgirl was helpful
, he admitted.

Nadia chuckled.
I’ll bet. She got one helluva commission. Ur probably her favorite customer now…if u weren’t already.

She hit
send
and then cringed. It was so obvious that she was fishing for information, trying to find out whether he made a habit of lavishing expensive gifts on women.

Her heart pounded while she waited for his response.

That was my first time there.

She felt an irrational surge of pleasure. So maybe he didn’t do this sort of thing all the time. Not that it mattered.

Biting her lip, she stared at his words a moment longer before texting back:
I love the bags, but I can’t accept them.

Yes u can.

She shook her head as she typed:
I can’t. Really. They’re too expensive.

I’m not taking them back
, he told her
.

Just then Nelson held up a turquoise-colored fur boy bag. Oh, God. It was to die for.

She must have whimpered because Nelson laughed.

Reid sent another message: I
gotta run, baby.

Her stomach flip-flopped.
Baby.
The man could melt her with just one word, one offhand endearment.

With a deep sigh of defeat, she texted back:
See u soon.

A few seconds passed before he responded:
Not soon enough…

7

E
ighteen thousand excited
fans packed into the Pepsi Center that night for the Denver Rebels’ season opener against the Minnesota Wild.

Sipping from a foamy glass of beer, Nadia looked around the arena as music blared from the sound system and lights flashed like strobes over the buzzing crowd. She’d been to the Pepsi Center for several Denver Nuggets games, but she didn’t remember the air crackling with this much electricity, didn’t remember feeling this heady rush of anticipation and adrenaline. She attributed the pounding of her heart to the supercharged atmosphere, and not the fact that she was about to see Reid for the first time since their explosive kiss.

She was wearing the black jersey dress and spike-heeled ankle boots that Jess had recommended. She’d had no choice after Jess and Bianca tag-teamed her. Once she was dressed, Bianca had whipped out her big-barreled curling iron and gone to work on her hair, insisting that the tired ponytail had to go.

Nadia had been speechless when she looked in the mirror and saw herself. With her hair parted off center and falling to her shoulders in soft waves, she’d had to admit she looked pretty damn good.

Foolishly she’d wondered if Reid would think so too.

When the Rebels were introduced, the team skated onto the ice to a thunderous roar of cheers from the crowd. The players looked as massive as Nadia remembered from two nights ago at practice. They were tough, brutal, manly men. Gladiators on ice. And more than a few of them were hot enough to set off every fire alarm in the arena.

Nadia’s pulse thumped as she stared at Reid in his black-and-gold number six jersey with his last name sewn across the back. At six four, he was one of the tallest players out there. As he skated a lap around the rink, he looked intense, focused, ready to do battle. He seemed oblivious to the loud music and the rowdy fans screaming his name as he glided past them in the stands. He was in the zone.

But as he neared where Nadia sat, he lifted his head and gave her the barest hint of a smile as he skated by.

The simple acknowledgment warmed her cheeks and spread heat through her body.

“Oh my God!” Jess squealed, grabbing her arm excitedly. “Did you see that? He just smiled at you!”

“Really?” Nadia murmured, lips twitching. “I must have missed it.”

Jess grinned, shaking her head. “First he tracks you down to ask you out on a date. Then he spends a shit ton of money buying you Chanel purses. Not one, not two—
seven!
And now he’s giving you special smiles right before the game.” She sighed enviously. “I hope you know how lucky you are.”

Nadia smiled. She had an inkling.

When the Minnesota Wild made their entrance, the crowd booed and jeered at them.

As the two teams warmed up, Nadia kept one eye on Reid while chatting with Jess, Nelson and Bianca. Although Nelson had passes to the press box, Reid apparently wanted Nadia to experience her first NHL game in the stands, close to the action. So somehow he’d hooked them up with seats five rows up from the boards, which gave them an unobstructed view of center ice.

By the time the teams took to the ice to start the game, the stands were rocking, and the roar of the crowd was electrifying. Once the puck dropped, the Rebels won the faceoff, and it was full throttle ahead.

Nadia had always heard that hockey games were exciting. But nothing could have prepared her for the speed and intensity of the game. It was hard to keep up with the breakneck tempo as players skated up and down the ice, passing the puck and shooting at the net while separate battles unfolded in the corners. There seemed to be so much going on at once. Not surprisingly, she found herself focusing almost exclusively on Reid.

Thirty seconds into the game, she understood why they called him The Rocket. He was insanely fast as he raced across the ice, his eyes blazing behind his helmet as he chased down the puck and aggressively checked opposing players. He moved like lightning and struck like thunder.

At one point during the first period, he slammed an opponent into the boards with enough force to rock the Plexiglas framing the rink.

The crowd roared with approval.

Nadia cringed and covered her eyes with both hands.

Nelson, Bianca and Jess laughed at her.

When she hazarded a peek, Reid and his opponent had lost their helmets and dropped their gloves and were throwing punches at each other. The crowd ate it up, cheering them on like bloodthirsty spectators at a Roman gladiator match.

Reid had the upper hand, landing more blows as the other guy struggled to keep a grip on his jersey. They went at each other until the Minnesota player slid down to the ice, at which point the referee finally intervened. When he sent Reid to the penalty box, the fans protested the call with a hail of boos and jeers.

Reid spat out a mouthful of blood and skated off the ice in disgust, then plopped down in the sin bin with a ferocious scowl. Watching him, Nadia wondered if he was more frustrated with the penalty or with himself for losing his temper. She doubted it was the latter. Brawls were so commonplace in hockey, most players probably didn’t think twice about throwing down.

But for someone as fiercely competitive as Reid, being taken out of the game must have felt like the worst punishment ever. He looked sullen and agitated in the penalty box. Nadia watched, with amusement and sympathy, as he restlessly bounced his right leg and shifted on the bench between glaring up at the scoreboard and watching the game. He was clearly dying to get back into the action. With his face streaked with sweat and his unruly dark hair sticking up, he reminded her of a scrappy kid who’d been put in timeout. Or a big black panther trapped in the world’s smallest cage.

As if sensing her gaze, he suddenly turned his head and looked right at her.

She shivered, goose bumps racing across her skin.

The way he was staring at her told her he liked what he saw, although she couldn’t be completely sure from this distance.

Pulse skipping, she took a sip of her beer, then slowly licked the foam off her upper lip.

Reid’s eyes seemed to narrow.

Smiling, she raised her glass to him.

She thought he winked at her before he turned away and resumed watching the game.

When he’d done his time in the penalty box, he donned his helmet and gloves, then nimbly hopped over the boards to rejoin the action on the ice.

Soon he was back in the mix, wresting control of the puck and snapping it to his teammate. The right wing—or was it left?—took a shot at the net, but Minnesota’s goaltender blocked the attempt.

Reid was nearby, battling for position with the opposing winger. When he saw the puck coming toward them, he lifted his stick and skillfully deflected the puck into the net.

As the red light above the goal flashed on, the crowd went berserk. Nadia jumped to her feet with everyone else, cheering and clapping as exploding rockets flashed across the Jumbotron and Reid skated backward playing air guitar. The fans ate it up, chanting “Rocket, Rocket, Rocket” as he celebrated the goal with his teammates.

Nadia’s heart was pounding, adrenaline flooding her veins. She was almost relieved when the first period ended. She needed to catch her breath after such an exhilarating opening.

As the teams headed to their respective locker rooms at intermission, the Rebels were up 2-1.

Jess turned to Nadia, her eyes bright with excitement. “That was hella intense.
Whew
.”

Nadia grinned. “Tell me about it. Hockey definitely isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“No, it isn’t,” Nelson agreed, sitting on her other side. He affectionately tweaked her nose. “Having fun?”

“I am, actually.”

“I knew you would.” He grinned. “And don’t think I missed those flirty little exchanges between you and Reid.”

Nadia blinked innocently at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, right.” He laughed and stood, dropping his reporter’s notebook on his seat. “Bianca and I are going for a snack run. Either of you want another beer?”

“I’ll have one,” Jess said.

“Gotcha. Nadia?”

“I’m good.” She was already buzzed from her first glass of beer. She didn’t want to risk having another one when she still had to make her way out of the arena in her spiky heels.

As Nelson and Bianca set off together, he put his arm protectively around her waist, guiding her up the steps and through the tunnel leading to the upper-level concession stands.

Watching them go, Jess said, “I see those two are still going strong.”

“They are.” Nadia smiled warmly. “Bianca makes Nelson so happy. I love her for that.”

“Your brother’s a really sweet guy. She’s lucky he’s not shallow.”

“What do you mean?”

Jess shrugged. “Bianca’s pretty, but she could stand to lose about thirty pounds.”

Nadia shook her head. “I think she’s beautiful the way she is. And so does Nelson.”

“That’s why she’s lucky to have him,” Jess countered. “Plenty of women would consider Nelson a good catch. I mean, he might not make a lot of money, but he’s smart, attractive, keeps himself in shape and has a great sense of humor.” Her eyes twinkled. “With him being a reporter and wearing those glasses, he’s got a certain Clark Kent-ish sex appeal.”

Nadia wrinkled her nose. “Please don’t mention ‘Nelson’ and ‘sex appeal’ in the same breath. Ew.”

Jess smiled. “He’s your brother, so you don’t see him the way other women do.”

Something in her voice had Nadia’s eyes narrowing in speculation.

But Jess had turned away to observe a group of giggling puck bunnies seated in the first row. All were young and pretty with long straight hair and curvy bodies squeezed into short bandage dresses.

Bandage dresses. In an ice rink.

Ridiculous
, Nadia thought somewhat cattily. At least
her
fuck-me dress had long sleeves and reached her knees.

When the hockey groupies appeared on the Jumbotron, they burst into high-pitched squeals and waved excitedly at the huge screen. Appreciative wolf whistles and cheers swept through the arena. When Cobra Starship’s “Good Girls Go Bad” began blaring over the sound system, the puck bunnies jumped to their feet and started dancing like drunk sorority girls at a keg party. The men in the crowd went crazy.

Jess gave Nadia a meaningful look. “This is what I was talking about earlier,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the loud music. “
Those
are the types of chicks who go home with the athletes. Some of them even manage to get wifed up.”

Nadia rolled her eyes and yelled back, “If I have to dress and behave like a trampy airhead to get wifed up, I’ll pass.”

Jess grinned. “Don’t knock the hustle till you’ve tried it.”

Nadia smirked. “More pearls of wisdom from your aunt Sheridan?”

“Hey, the philosophy obviously worked for her since she married a wealthy man. So did her daughter.” Jess paused. “Of course, Caitlyn ended up getting divorced. Twice. Then she lost custody of her daughter. And now she’s living alone in Atlanta, pathetically pining after her childhood crush who’s happily married to some famous violinist.”

“Ah, yes, the cautionary tale of your cousin Caitlyn.” Nadia sighed dramatically. “Poor woman.”

“Poor woman?” Jess snorted. “Cait’s always been a raging bitch. It was only a matter of time before karma caught up to her.”

Nadia chuckled. “Well, I think the moral of the story is ‘Marry for love, not money.’”

Jess laughed. “If you say so!”

The rest of
the game was just as thrilling as the first period. Thankfully, when the final buzzer sounded at the end, the Rebels had won 4-2.

The noise inside the arena was deafening as the ecstatic fans celebrated what they hoped was the first of many wins that season.

The players skated off the ice and headed down the tunnel to the locker room, high fiving fans on their way out. Reid had pulled strings so that security would allow Nadia, Bianca and Jess to accompany Nelson when he went to interview the team for his column.

Nadia would have preferred to head straight home after the game, but she knew it would be rude to leave without congratulating Reid and thanking him for the extravagant Chanel purses. The prospect of being near him again filled her with nervous excitement as she followed the others through the crowd.

The hallway to the locker room was thronged with reporters, cameramen and some of the players’ wives. There were also a number of half-dressed puck bunnies who’d flirted and sweet-talked their way past security. The two groups—missuses and wannabes—huddled together on opposite sides of the corridor.

As Nadia, Bianca and Jess waited for Nelson to emerge from the locker room, the other women eyed them curiously, sizing them up. Their unabashed appraisal made Nadia feel conspicuous in her tight dress and spiky boots. She suddenly wished she hadn’t allowed herself to be coerced into wearing the sexy getup. If only she could be as unselfconscious as Jess, who looked smoking hot in a little red dress that showed off her cleavage and curves.