Breakaway (19 page)

“Damn,” Laura muttered. “I mean, oh great.”

Remi turned to her. “Tag just took a stupid penalty,” Laura
said. “The Stars play a man short now, with him in the penalty box.” Her brow
creased. “So for two minutes the Wolves have a power play—a man advantage.”

Remi nodded. “That’s good, though, right?”

“It’s a great chance for them to score.”

“Oh, hell,” Doug sad. “They’re gonna pull their goalie.”

He nodded to the bench where the Wolves’ goaltender had
skated over to talk to the coach. The coach gestured wildly and the goalie
nodded, squirted water into his mask, then skated back to the net.

“He’s going back,” Remi said.

“He’ll come out when they get the puck down in the Phoenix
end.” Doug explained. “Goddammit, that’s risky. Why the hell is he doing that?
They’ve already got a man advantage.”

They all sat forward to watch Jason take the face-off and,
damn, this time he lost. The Stars got the puck and immediately headed toward
the Wolves net, tossing it back and forth with neat passes, the puck cracking
against their sticks. But the Wolves defense knocked the puck away from Jason
as he crossed the blue line. He and a Star raced into the corner and fought for
the puck along the boards and Remi cringed at the bashing and crashing that
went on, a vision of Jason bleeding on the ice flashing through her memory. She
shivered.

Finally the puck came loose, but a Star slashed at it and
sent it spinning down the ice.

“Icing!” Remi cried.

“Uh…no.” Laura patted her hand. “They have a penalty so it’s
not icing.”

Remi frowned. Jesus. She wasn’t used to feeling so stupid
and uninformed. She wanted to slide under the seat. This game was more
complicated than she’d realized. But then Jason swooped in and picked up the
puck. The crowd screamed. Remi gripped her hands tightly together. Go, go, go, Jason!
She sucked on her bottom lip as he deked around a defenseman, came to a fast
stop in a shower of ice in front of another and slid around him too, and then
he was on his own, racing toward the Detroit net.

“Go!” Remi screamed with the crowd, the noise in the arena
so loud it hurt her ears. She surged to her feet along with everyone else. “Go,
Jase!”

He lifted his stick, took a swing and blasted the puck at
the net. Remi tensed, waiting for the red light—please, please—but the goalie
snagged it in his glove and fell to the ice. The whistle blew and the play
halted.

“Damn!” Remi realized she was clutching Laura’s arm and
hastily released it. “Sorry.” She sagged and dropped into her seat.

“That’s okay!” Laura flashed her a smile. “That was so
close!”

Jason skated off the ice and another player prepared to take
the face-off.

Remi glanced at the clock. Only thirty-two seconds left in
their power play. Only a minute and six seconds left in the game.

Do or die.

She so wanted this for Jase. She twisted her fingers
together, gnawing her bottom lip again.

She looked down the ice. The goaltender was out of his net.

“He’s out,” she said to Doug and he nodded. “Why’d they do
that? Isn’t that just asking for Phoenix to score a goal on them? How can they
play with no goaltender?”

Doug grinned. “They put another player on in his place. That
means they have a two-man advantage.”

“But an empty net!” That seemed crazy dangerous.

Her heart leaping, fingers clasped so tightly they hurt, she
watched as the puck was dropped. Wolves got the puck. Lalonde circled behind
the net and paused. And waited.

“What’s he waiting for?” Remi cried. She vibrated with
tension.

“They’re getting set up. Look at the players on the blue
line.”

Lalonde shot the puck from behind the net to one of his
teammates, and the Wolves played with the puck like it was a pinball, passing
it from one player to another, to another, and back again, back and forth, up
and down, while the Stars whirled around in front of them, lunging with their
sticks, trying desperately to get the puck.

“They need to shoot at the net!” Remi said, eyes darting
back and forth to follow the puck.

“They will,” Doug said, patting her shoulder. “Just…wait…now!”

Finally, the opening they’d wanted and Daviduk didn’t even
stop the puck, just slapped at it as it shot past him on the ice, directing it
into the net.

“Yeah!”

The red light flashed, the horn blasted and the entire crowd
in the Metro Center went wild. Remi pumped a fist in the air. She turned to
Laura and they hugged, swaying back and forth.

Laura drew back, her smile wide and jubilant, and Remi
collected herself. Dear God, she’d just hugged Jason’s mom and she didn’t even
know her.

But the bubbly feeling inside her couldn’t be repressed.
Amid the noise of the still-cheering crowd, Jason took the next face-off and
won it and the Wolves toyed with the puck while the clock ticked down the last
seconds of the game. Then the roof nearly rose off the Metro Center as the game
ended—the Wolves in the playoffs.

Chapter Twelve

“The puck had fucking eyes, man!”

“No shit! With that traffic in front of the net, I couldn’t
believe it went in! You had horseshoes up your ass tonight!”

Jason grinned. His only goal of the game hadn’t been pretty,
but what the hell.

His brothers had greeted him as he walked into the lounge at
the downtown hotel where they and his parents were staying, but although he
accepted their back-slaps and congratulations, his gaze slid past them to Remi.
She rose from her seat, her smile so sweet and generous, and he pushed by Matt
and Logan and held out his arms.

She flew into them and he held her tight, lifting her feet
off the floor as usual.

“Congratulations!” she whispered and then he kissed her, a
long, hard, jubilant kiss. “I knew you’d do it.”

He drew back and met her eyes, smiling, his heart expanding,
still buzzing from the adrenaline high of the game. Having his folks and Remi
there just amplified the high.

His parents waited behind her to congratulate him too,
exchanging amused looks. He blew out a long breath and greeted them while Matt
and Logan went into the restaurant to get a table there.

“Good game, son,” his dad said, hand on his shoulder. “Your
plus-minus was great tonight.”

They moved to the restaurant, him holding Remi’s hand, and
crossed the plush carpet to the large, round table set up for the seven of
them—where was Tag? Jason frowned and looked around. Tag must have got held up
by the press even longer than he had.

At this late hour, few diners occupied the other tables in
the posh restaurant and the quiet tinkle of piano music and subtle lighting
steadied Jason’s edgy nerves. It was hard coming down sometimes, especially
after a game that mattered as much as this one had. He held Remi’s chair for
her as she took her seat, smiling up at him. Damn, she was pretty. He sat
beside her, lifted her hand and kissed it.

They exchanged a heated glance. Adrenaline equaled sex for Jason,
and much as he wanted to spend some time with the family, he wanted even more
to take Remi back to his place and fuck her senseless. Fuck them both
senseless. He shifted in his chair, then winced. That check into the boards had
left a few bruises.

Ah well. It was worth it.

Then Tag arrived.

Jason rose to his feet to greet his brother, almost like
looking in a mirror. Tag had an inch and a few pounds on him and Tag’s nose was
perfect and straight, but they shared the same eyes and mouth and chin. They
stood in front of each other for a long moment. The tightness in the corners of
Tag’s eyes and mouth told Jason how his brother was feeling and Jason felt Tag’s
disappointment like a stone in his own gut. He wished he knew what to say, but
neither of them was very good at talking about crap like that.

“Good game,” Tag said, clapping Jason on the back.

“Thanks, man.” Jason paused, then they gripped each other in
a tight, emotion-laden hug.

Growing up as Tag’s younger brother had never been easy.
Competition, challenge and conflict had always been there. For most of Jason’s
life, he’d tried so hard not to compete with Tag, knowing he could never be as
good as his big brother, that he’d gone in the wrong direction, lost his way,
almost lost himself.

“Course you wouldn’t have won if I hadn’t let you win every face-off,”
Tag said, cracking the tension.

“Bullshit,” Jason rolled his eyes and grinned. “You’re just
getting so old your reflexes are slow.” But when Tag’s face tightened for a fleeting
second, he wished he hadn’t said that.

Hell. Tag wasn’t old. He was only thirty-one, only two years
older than Jason. In his prime.

Although hockey players did have a short career.

He shook his head. Tag was a great player, one of the best,
and Jason only wished he could measure up to his big brother.

He pushed that thought aside, determined to celebrate. And
not only celebrate the game. He was celebrating Remi being there, celebrating
that they were together and that his family was getting to meet her. He eyed
them, hoping like hell they liked her.

He introduced her to Tag, the only one she hadn’t met yet,
and then they ordered dinner.

“So what do you think, Jase?” his dad asked. “Can you take
St. Louis in the first round?”

“Hell yeah.” It was the only answer. No doubt. No fear. “We’ll
take ‘em in four.”

“Morsey’s injured,” Tag said. “Probably done for the year.
Helluva an advantage.”

“Poor bugger,” Logan said. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna have to improve your penalty killing against
them,” Tag said.

Remi’s fingers curled around Jason’s. He glanced at her. “Are
you bored with all the hockey talk?” he murmured into her ear. “Sorry. This is
what my family’s like when we get together.”

She shook her head and her big aquamarine eyes met his. His
body tightened. “I’m not bored,” she said with a small smile, then dropped her
eyes.

“Yes, you are.” He let go of her hand and slid his arm along
the back of her chair, leaning closer.

“No. I just feel…stupid.”

He reared back. “What?”

She gave him a wry smile and shrugged. “I wish I understood
half the stuff you guys are talking about. Even your mom knows more about
hockey than I do.”

“Well of course she does. She used to play hockey too.”

Remi’s eyes shot wide. “She played hockey?”

“Yeah. What? Why are you looking like that?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just surprised.”

“Lots of women play hockey. Didn’t you watch the Olympics?”

“Well…yes. Okay, sure. I just never thought about your mom
playing hockey. Wow.”

Whatever. He’d never thought much of it, but he supposed it
was kinda unusual.

Their low conversation was attracting interested, knowing
looks from his family. He grinned.

“Sorry about all the hockey talk, Remi,” his mom said with a
smile. Jason watched her. She liked Remi. He could tell. Good, good. Warmth
spread inside him.

“That’s okay,” Remi said. She smiled too. Yes! They liked
each other. Fucking awesome. He caught his mom’s eye and her smile changed,
softened and her eyes glowed. His chest tightened and he nodded, and then to
his horror, his mom’s eyes got teary. Ah, hell. He frowned at her and she
blinked and gave a little laugh.

“So, Remi.” Tag spoke up. “How the hell did you hook up with
a loser like Jase?”

“Shaddup,” Jason said mildly.

Remi laughed. “It’s a long story.”

“How’s business, Dad?” Jason changed the subject again.

“Great, great.”

“Gonna retire soon?”

“Not until one of you comes home to run the store.”

Jason met his brothers’ eyes, one at a time. They all knew
their dad wanted them to take over the sporting goods store. And maybe one of
them would. One day. But not anytime soon. His gut clenched.

His dad laughed. “Never mind, you buncha goons. I’m not
waiting for you. I have no intention of retiring.”

Jason regarded his father. Although sixty years old, he was
still fit and energetic and certainly with it. Definitely still capable of
running the store. And he had lots of help. The store had grown enough to hire
a substantial staff. But still, guilt nudged at his conscience and he hoped his
dad was being honest when he said he didn’t want to retire until one of them
came home.

“Excuse me.”

They all looked up at the couple that had stopped at their
table.

“Are you the Heller brothers?”

They all grinned and nodded.

“Our two sons are such big hockey fans. They would love it
if you’d give us your autograph.”

Jason and his brothers willingly signed their names for the
couple who were all smiling and grateful. But when Jason looked at Remi, he saw
her head bowed again. Shit. He knew she was still uncomfortable with the fame
and the fans and the press. He reached for her hand again and squeezed.

He tried to keep the conversation away from hockey, at least
part of the time, wanting his parents to get to know Remi.

When the waiter appeared with the bill in a discreet leather
folder, Tag said, “Give the bill to him,” and nodded at Jason. With an
exaggerated sigh, Jason held out his hand. Tag grinned. “We made a bet. Just
before the opening face-off. Winner buys dinner.”

“Now I know you let me win,” Jason grumbled, reaching for
his wallet. He slanted a glance at Remi beside him, loving the laughter that
sparkled in her eyes.

He was on top of the world tonight. He had it all and having
Remi at his side was the ultimate thrill. What more could a guy ask for?

* * * * *

That night, together in Remi’s bed, he wanted to show her
how he felt, all his love and desire and gratitude. He kissed her over and
over, licked into her mouth, found her tongue with his and played, nipped at
her lips all soft and pouty, consuming her with his kisses. She responded immediately,
so sweetly, opening her mouth to him, winding her arms around his neck and
pulling him down to her, closer. He lay on top of her, on his elbows, his hands
fisted in her silky hair, kissing her, tasting her, sinking into her. Her fresh
flowery scent filled his head, making him dizzy.