Gauging the Player: A One-Night-Stand Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 3), стр. 22
So what was wrong with him? What had changed? Had it just turned into a case of “been there, done that”? Maybe sleeping with her, finally having his fantasy come true, had exposed him for the shallow, callous bastard his mother always referred to when she railed on about “men.”
And if Jess was the closest he’d ever come to falling for someone? Sure, he was only twenty-six, but what if he never found that special someone, the one his buddies described as the woman who made you want to do your best, be your best? That made your mind blank out all other women? The one that made wherever you lived home, whether it was Denver or Tampa or Detroit?
Ah, well. Time to pull his head out of his ass and screw it on straight. Morning skate and tonight’s game awaited.
He parked in the arena lot and glanced at his phone. Two texts blinked. His pulse picked up, and his fingers twitched when he saw that one was from Lily. He opted to read the other one first for the sake of delayed gratification.
Beckett Miller: Trying to get a head count for our Super Bowl party this Sunday. You in?
Gage began typing his answer when an idea struck, so he paused to read Lily’s text.
Lily: Just checking in to see how you’re doing in sunny Cali and if you’ve had a chance to look at your likes today? You are rockin’ it, Professor!
As he read her words, he pictured her bright blue eyes glimmering with mischief. Eyes he was looking forward to seeing when he got home. Eyes that belonged to the woman he was about to hire as his social media manager.
Gage: Seems I’m on the hook to hire you. I was invited to a Super Bowl party at a friend’s on Sunday. Super casual. Interested in coming with and we’ll work out the details?
Holding his breath, he hit send before he could change his mind and delete the message. What would he gain if he didn’t put it out there?
His phone chirped almost immediately, and he let out the breath, only to suck in a fresh one in anticipation of her answer.
Lily: Sounds like fun. Where and when?
His stomach broke out in a happy dance. How about I pick you up around 3?
Lily: How about I meet you there?
A logical response he aimed to counter. Pretty sure they live in a gated community. Better if I come get you.
He had no idea where Beckett and his wife lived, but he’d plead ignorance if it turned out not to be behind a gate.
During the several minutes it took for her to reply, Gage’s mind ricocheted between what an idiot he was to the super genius he’d be if she said yes.
Lily: Okay, then. Let’s confirm deets Saturday?
He pumped his fist and growled, “Yes!” Wile E. Coyote Super Genius!
Gage: Sounds good. Till Sat.
Thank God he’d been able to hide behind the texts because he sounded way cooler in print than he felt. As he RSVP’ed Beckett—I’m in with a plus-one—he spotted T.J. walking toward the arena. Gage cracked his door open. “Hold up, Shanny.”
He climbed out of the car, grabbed his gear, and fell in beside T.J. “So you and Natalie going to Miller’s party Sunday?”
“Yep. You?”
“Yep.”
“Alone, I assume.”
Gage kept his voice even, corralling the excited answer ready to burst from his lungs in a shout. “Nah.”
He found a measure of satisfaction when T.J.’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Seriously? You’re bringing someone? As in, someone with tits and plumbing that’ll accommodate yours?”
Gage suppressed a laugh. “Yep.”
T.J. smacked his arm. “Good job, Nelson. You’re showing an interest in something besides hockey. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Just needed the right motivation. And there it was. In a heartbeat, no hanky-panky drifted into the sky, where it vanished like mist in the clouds. He didn’t dare contemplate whether or not this was a good idea.
Chapter 8
There’s a Football Game Going On?
Lily sucked in her stomach and smoothed her baby-blue cashmere sweater over her waist—for the tenth time. She pivoted for a side view in her dresser mirror and groaned—also for the tenth time. Flattening her stomach made her boobs stick out. While that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, she didn’t want to broadcast the wrong message to the man picking her up in ten minutes.
“Strictly business,” she muttered to herself.
Spending the past week trolling the Internet for information about Gage Nelson had her struggling to keep him rooted under the “client” label. Somehow the man kept stepping outside his assigned compartment, toeing the “drool-worthy” category, and to her consternation, her libido was betraying her. Just as it had last July.
She gave her reflection a disapproving glare as she gave the clingy sweater two thumbs-down. She yanked the garment over her head, shimmied out of her jeans, and snatched up a cobalt dress draped over the edge of her bed. As she was about to pull it over her head—this would make the third time she’d tried it on—she paused to admire her new purchase, the lacy teal bra and matching panties she’d picked up without Ivy’s help … or knowledge. Even to Lily’s critical eye, the set fit her well. Not that anyone would know because “anyone” wasn’t going to get a glimpse. It was just a boost to make her feel pretty under her clothes.
Damn straight. She nodded at herself.
“Shame” by Elle King played in the background, and Lily hummed the words as she settled the dress over her hips. With a strut and a spin, she vamped in front of the mirror, stopping short with a critical assessment. Yeah,