Worth The Shot (The Bannister Brothers #2) (3 page)

“That’s enough talk about my nightwear. What’s one of your favorite holiday traditions that your family does?”

“My mom loves holiday traditions, and she made decorating the tree together a big deal every year. I’ve got a lot of brothers, but my mom had a job for all of us. I was in charge of helping Dad put the lights on the tree. We had this big box with all of the ornaments in it, and every ornament on our tree had a story behind it. It was handmade by one of Mom’s friends, or we’d picked it up on a family vacation, or it had been given to one of us to mark a special occasion or from someone in the family. My mom would hand us an ornament, but we had to say where it came from before we could put it on the tree.”

“Ahh, I love that idea. It sounds so sweet.”

“Yeah, it sounds sweet, but remember that part about a bunch of rowdy boys. Half the time we couldn’t remember where it came from or we did remember, but it was too much fun teasing our mom by acting like we forgot. It was always crazy, us kids laughing, and my mom getting all mad.”

She was starting to see where his comfortable teasing nature came from.

“But eventually we get all the ornaments on the tree, and Mom always gets to put the angel on top. Then we turn out all the lights in the living room, except for the ones on the tree, and we have a Christmas picnic and eat supper in front of the tree. We all razz our mom about it, but it’s pretty cool.”

“That sounds like a great tradition. I’ll bet your mom is really sweet.”

He grinned. “My mom is the best. She put up with so much crap from my brothers and me. She’s got the best sense of humor and just makes everything more fun. I’d do anything for my mom.” A sad look crossed his face, as if he had somehow disappointed her or hadn’t lived up to her expectation.

What was that about? Before she could ask, another bout of turbulence rocked the plane. He gripped her arm, squeezing it as his face paled.

She had to admit, she hated the turbulence, too. But more for the queasy feeling it caused in her stomach. With him, she could tell it was more than that. It was outright fear.

She needed a new tack. Something different to take his mind off the rough flight.

Hating to do it, she pulled her hand from his and reached for her purse under the seat. Pulling out a pack of gum, she offered him a piece. “It helps prevent your ears from popping.” She also grabbed a pair of earbuds then set her bag back under the seat.

“Let’s try some music. You pick a playlist you like.” After calling up her music on her phone, she handed it to him to scroll through. Music choices were so personal and could reveal a lot about someone. Having him look through her playlists was surprisingly intimate, like she was letting him have a glimpse into her personality, or a peek into her sock drawer.

“This one.” He pointed to the list of “
Feel Good Tunes.
”

“Good choice.” She unraveled the headphones, plugged them into the jack on her phone, and handed him one earbud. Leaning in toward each other, they each put an earbud into their ear.

The sweet, haunting melody of Lana Del Rey filled her ear, and she shivered.

He noticed. Reaching across her, he grabbed the blanket that she’d tucked into the side of her seat. His arm brushed her stomach as he pulled the blanket free, and her heart raced in her chest.

Shaking out the fold, he spread the blanket across both of them and tipped his head toward hers. “I like this song.” 

Even in the dim light, she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

What was happening? It felt surreal. Like they were plucked out of a moment in time. A moment where chemistry flew, and their attraction zapped like sparks in the air.

The dark cabin, the intimate space, the other passengers asleep around them—all combined to give the illusion that they were alone. That the two of them—in this moment—were the only two people that existed. That she was alive, sizzling with energy, waiting for this one instant, waiting a million years, for this moment—when they would meet.

His head bent forward, his forehead almost touching hers. Her forearm burned from the pressure of his hand resting lightly on it. She felt connected to him, emotionally, through their shared experience, but also physically, as they were tethered together by the headphone cord.

She swallowed, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. “I like this song, too.”

He reached up, the back of his fingers gently brushing her cheek. “I like you.” Leaning in, a fraction closer, his lips so close to hers—she caught her breath—closer still. All she had to do was push him away. Or pull back.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Because she wanted this. Wanted him.

It didn’t make sense. It was probably a stupid, impulsive decision. But she desired him. Beyond reason. Beyond control.

He tipped a little closer, his lips a mere whisper from hers. She sat motionless, frozen. Waiting. Hoping. Dying—for him to kiss her.

The song in her ear hit a low, sweet chord, the melody lingering on a phrase, the singer’s voice holding one long, stirring note. The note ended, and the singer let out a breathy sigh—the sound soft and sensual.

And he kissed her.

Light. A soft whisper against her lips.

Every nerve in her body shot to life, heat pulsing through her core. Her lips parted, barely, just enough to release her own sigh, and he took her mouth. Took it in an onslaught of passion and desire.

Her chest arched slightly toward him, but otherwise their bodies remained still, all of their focus on their lips and that one spectacular kiss.

She felt the kiss through every molecule in her body, all the way to her toes. Her hand gripped the armrest, as if it were anchoring her to the seat, as if she had to hold on, or she’d float into the atmosphere on the breathtaking power of that kiss.

His lips were soft and tasted like the sweet spearmint flavor of his gum. The scent of his aftershave surrounded her like a cloak—filled her senses with traces of him—and she wanted to sink into the essence of him.

Shimmers of pleasure shot through her, and she kissed him back with a fierce and hungry need. Where had that come from? She wanted to melt into his lips and wrap her legs around his waist at the same time.

His hand slid up her neck, his fingers weaving into her hair as he cupped the back of her neck. Flames of heat filled her as he kissed her again, his tongue slipping between her lips, as he tasted her.

Her hand slid up and clutched his arm—his ridiculously hard, muscled arm—and all she could do was hold on. Hold on and try not to shatter into a million pieces as he consumed her, body and soul.

They suddenly hit a hard patch of turbulence, and the plane dipped a fraction, filling the air with a feeling of panic. They broke apart, breathing hard as the passengers around them woke up, startled by the sudden drop. They hadn’t really been alone. They’d been surrounded by people. People that now sat forward, rustling in their seats, and murmuring about the rough ride.

The captain’s voice crackled through the intercom assuring the passengers that everything was all right, that they were passing through a storm but were approaching their final descent, and to please keep their seatbelts fastened.

Addison fell back against her seat, the earbud pulling loose from her ear, and the absence of the music was like a splash of cold water on her face. What the hell had she been doing? Kissing a perfect stranger on a plane?

She rubbed her kiss-bruised lips and snuck a glance at her seat mate. He looked as startled as she felt, as if he were just waking up from a dream. Then his eye caught hers, and his face broke into a grin. A sweet, heartbreakingly gorgeous grin.

Okay, maybe not a perfect stranger. Maybe not a stranger at all. And maybe he was kind of perfect.

Another rumble of the plane, and he sat back against his seat, pulling his seatbelt tighter across his lap. He picked up her hand and held it tightly against his leg.

Chapter Two

Bane Bannister sat in a hard chair across from his new boss. Or who might be his new boss, he wasn’t sure.

He hadn’t planned to have a new boss at all. But he also hadn’t planned to break that guy’s nose in the last game. And he definitely hadn’t planned to have his coach trade him off the team.

He’d played hockey for the Colorado Summit for the past five years. He loved the team, loved that he got to play for his home state, and, best of all, loved that he got to play on the same team as his little brother, Owen.

He and his brother had a reputation for fighting, the Summit fans dubbing the duo the Bannister Brawlers. He kind of liked it.

But the Brawlers seemed to have had a string of bad games, getting more than their share of penalties and causing too many game delays. The coach had warned them they needed to ease up a little on the fighting. Unfortunately, nobody told the other team.

They were down in the last game, and things had gotten heated between his brother and another player on the opposing team. Bane should have let it go. Should have backed off. But it was his little brother. He couldn’t stand by and let that asshole whale on him.

The fight hadn’t really been as bad as the coach made it out to be. Broken noses just tend to bleed a lot. But the blood on the ice and covering his knuckles didn’t help his case when the coach came down on him.

He knew his coach would ream him, but he hadn’t been prepared for him to
trade
him. And certainly not to St. Louis, one of Colorado’s biggest rivals. But it was better him than Owen.

He could handle the change and the new team easier than sending his brother into the lion’s den. And the head lion sat across from him now.

Coach Steve Cavanaugh had been with the St. Louis Blueshirts for ten years. He was loved and respected and known for not putting up with crap from his team.

He checked his watch and looked down his nose at Bane. “I value promptness in my players. And professionalism. I have to say, showing up thirty minutes late looking like you slept in your shirt and smelling like alcohol doesn’t make the best first impression.”

“I apologize, sir. My flight was delayed. It won’t happen again.”

Not only had their flight been delayed, their baggage had taken forever. Addison had been clearly stressed about being late, fidgeting and craning her neck to see the next bag that fell onto the luggage carrier. Thankfully, her bag had come out early.

All the easy intimacy that they’d had in the plane seemed to end as the lights came on and the passengers filed out of the plane. They’d walked together to the baggage claim area, but didn’t talk much, except to complain about the snow and how late they were. He’d told her that he’d like to call her, and she’d hurriedly scribbled her number on a scrap of paper from her purse then given him an awkward hug before racing out of the terminal.

He’d had to wait not only for his luggage, but his equipment, and had been dismayed to find out his stick had been broken on the turbulent flight. Granted, it was a practice stick, but he’d still had to take the time to fill out a damage claim and get a car rented.

He finally got his car and his equipment loaded, only to find that the storm and the snow had slowed the morning traffic to a crawl.

Overall, not a great impression to make on his first day.

The coach studied him, his eyebrows knitted together in an angry expression. “Look, your coach is a friend of mine. We go way back. And he’s vouched for you. But make no mistake, this is a trial period for you. I’ve seen you play, and I know you have skills, but I also know you have a reputation for being a hothead and not always the most responsible guy.”

As the oldest brother, he was actually
very
responsible. But early in his NHL days, he had been a little wild. He was often seen at parties and clubs, and he’d had one rocky relationship with a well-known pop singer a few years ago, and the press had had a field day with it. They loved to make him out to be the bad-boy jock that partied and left broken hearts in his wake. But in reality, he wasn’t much of a bad boy at all anymore.

That relationship had been a wake-up call for him, and he’d also grown up a little, hopefully matured, and he focused more on his game and less on his social life. But the press wouldn’t let go of that bad reputation.

He nodded solemnly at the coach. “I understand your concern, sir. But those irresponsible days are behind me now. I’m totally committed to the game and to my teammates. I won’t let you down.”

“I hope not, son. I’m pretty serious about this. I want to see you buckle down the next few weeks with us. And I mean it. Total focus on the game. No booze, no parties, no women. And no fighting.”

He nodded his agreement to the coach. “Yes, sir. You can count on me.”

No booze, no parties, no problem. He didn’t really care about that. He could put all of his concentration into the game. And he could rein in his temper on the ice and adhere to the no fighting.

But no women? That was gonna be a problem.

Not women. But woman.

One woman.

One woman he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He hadn’t dated in months, hadn’t really even cared. He really had been totally devoted to the game.

But meeting Addison had thrown his whole world onto its side. Something about her had touched him. Well, she’d
actually
touched him, and it had been amazing.

That kiss had been freaking spectacular. But something about her had also touched his heart. And he really liked her.

He’d been an idiot last night, freaking out over the turbulence. He normally put on a pretty tough exterior, but something about last night, the dark plane, the stressful flight, he didn’t know what it was. But he’d let down his guard with her—let her see the real him.

Yeah, he still tried to tease and charm her, but he’d been his real self with her. The self that only his family and good friends got to see anymore. The self that didn’t have to guard his words or his actions in case he was being quoted for an article or because someone was just using him for his celebrity status.

Not that he saw himself as a celebrity. He was just a hockey player, a guy that got sweaty and smelly and worked his ass off for his two-minute shifts on the ice. Two minutes that he got to play the sport he loved.

But Addison didn’t know any of that. He hadn’t even mentioned hockey to her. She seemed to like him just for him.

The coach’s office door opened.

And
she
walked in.

As if he had conjured her there with his very thoughts, Addison walked in to the room, her long, dark hair resting on her shoulders, and her snug skirt hugging her perfect curves.

She ignored him, didn’t even notice him; instead her focus and her gorgeous smile were aimed at Coach Cavanaugh as she crossed the room to lay a kiss on his cheek. “Hey, Dad. Sorry I’m late, my flight was delayed.”

OH. SHIT.

The coach wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a quick squeeze. “Hi, honey. I was starting to get worried. I’m glad you’re here. I want you to meet someone.”

Dad? Honey? Bane struggled to catch up. She was Steve Cavanaugh’s daughter???

She turned to him then, and a puzzled expression crossed her face. “Ben?”

“Not Ben. Bane. Bane Bannister,” the coach explained. “Bane plays for the Colorado Summit, but we’re giving him a trial run—talking about a trade.”

Her face now held a bewildered expression, and her shoulders slumped as if all the air had been let out of balloon. “Bane?” She repeated the word, her expression changing as her anger built with each syllable. “Bane Bannis-freaking-ster?”

He shrugged and gave her a little wave. “Hi.”

Yeah, that didn’t help. Her features darkened, and now he could see the family resemblance in the angry arch of her slanted eyebrows. Her dad had just been giving him that same serious look.

“Do you two know each other?” the coach asked.

“No,” she said emphatically. “I thought maybe we did, for a second there. But I was wrong. We don’t actually know each other at all.”

“Well, now you do. Bane, this is my daughter, Addison Cavanaugh.”

Bane rose from his chair and reached out a hand to shake hers.

She narrowed her eyes at him, remaining fixed where she stood, her arms crossed and her hands tucked firmly into her side.

“Addison.” Her dad only had to say her name, and like a petulant teenager, she obeyed, reaching out her hand to quickly shake Bane’s.

Her hand was warm, but held none of the actual warmth that it’d had hours ago when he’d held it against his chest.

“Bane, we’re having our annual team Christmas party at my home this evening. We’d love it if you could attend,” the coach said.

Bane nodded. Would Addison be there? Hopefully he’d have a chance to mend the damage that he’d done. “Sure, of course. I’ll just need to pick up a suit today. Do you have any recommendations for a good tailor that can work quickly?”

“Addie can help you. It’s black tie, so you’ll need a tux. She can take you out for some lunch, then to a couple of places that I’m sure can get you taken care of.”

“No, Dad, I can’t. I have things to do today.”

He waved away her objections and gestured to Bane. “Look at this guy. He obviously needs some fashion help. And you’re great at this. I’m introducing him tonight, and I want him to look good. And it’s partly my fault because I didn’t tell him he would need a tux. So you’d be making up for my bad manners. I really need your help with this, honey.”

Bane could see her softening. It was obvious that Addison was used to giving in to the coach, from both her unwilling consenting and his assuming expectation that she would comply.

It would be so easy for him to save her. He was a big boy and knew how to pick out a tux all on his own. But if he let her off the hook, he’d miss out on a chance to spend time with her and hopefully win her back over.

She looked over at him, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll take him to get a tux.”

“Great. That’s settled, then,” the coach said. “Bane, take today to get your bearings and get set up in your hotel. You can start practicing with the team tomorrow. You’ll meet them all tonight at the party. I’ll expect you at my house this evening at seven sharp. Addison can give you the address. Don’t be late.”

“I’ll be there, sir.” He reached across the desk to shake the coach’s hand. “I’ll see you tonight. Seven sharp.”

The coach turned to his daughter. “Look, honey, I’m not going so far as to say that he needs a babysitter, but Bane and I have spoken at length about his expected behavior. He knows that I’ve given him strict instructions for no partying, no alcohol, no women, and
no fighting
. He’s got to keep his nose clean and his fists under control.”

That felt great. His new coach was assigning his daughter to
babysit
him. It would be much more humiliating if Addison didn’t make such a hot babysitter.

“Dad, I don’t think he’s going to get drunk, pick up a woman, and get in a fight while having lunch and picking out a tux.”

The coach huffed. “Yeah, well, you don’t know this guy like I do. He could pick a fight with someone before he’s even left the building.”

Addison looked at Bane, her eyes flashing pain and sadness, then she turned back to her dad. “No, I suppose I don’t know him like you do. I don’t really know him at all.”

Her dad leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be fine. He’s assured me that he’ll be on his best behavior and stay out of trouble.”

“Whatever. Let’s go, Mr. Bannister.” Addison headed for the door. “I’ll see you later, Dad.”

Bane grabbed his jacket and raced down the hall after her. Dang, she made good time in those heels. “Addison, wait up. I want to talk to you.”

She stopped so abruptly that he almost slammed into her. “What for? So you can tell me some more of your bullshit? Did you know who I was the whole time? Was that all just a ploy for you to get in good with my dad?”

“What? No, of course not. I had no idea who you were. And you never even told me your last name.”

“Evidently, you never told me your name at all,
Ben
.”

He looked at the floor. “Yeah, that probably wasn’t one of my best decisions.”

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me you were Bane Bannister? Or at least tell me your name was Bane?”

He ran a hand across his hair and blew out a sigh. “I don’t know. It was a snap decision. Maybe because I didn’t really want to be Bane Bannister to you. You were pretty and sweet. And you seemed to like me. Like me without knowing who I was. I play hockey for the NHL, and I get recognized a lot. And not always in a good way or a positive light. Do you know how many people judge me by what the press says about me, or that try to get in good with me or act like they want to be friends, just because I play for the Summit?”

Her expression softened a little. “I guess I can see that.”