Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) (2 page)

     Bobbi paused just inside the door, stunned by the boisterous activity surrounding her. A gentle shove in the middle of her back forced her deeper inside the room, and she had to side-step to avoid being trampled by a giant. The hulking figure lurched around her, and she realized that the giant was merely one of the players rushing past her. She took a step back, and collided with her escort.

     "Sorry." Her mumbled apology seemed to get lost in the loud chaos surrounding them, and she was surprised at the friendly chuckle in her ear.

     "No problem. It gets a little crazy just before game time. Here, let's find Niko so I can introduce you, then you can relax and watch the game." A hand cupped her elbow and led her deeper into the chaos. Her escort, George Toomey, was one of the personnel managers in charge of something-or-other. Bobbi had been introduced to him and another dozen or so people in the last few hours since her arrival, and the details of each person's job was still being sorted out in her mental reservoir. It seemed there were three times as many people as there were jobs, but she wasn't here to question the efficiencies.

     "Is it unusual for personal assistants to be here at game time?" Bobbi didn't notice anyone besides the players moving throughout the room, and she wondered where the assistants—or, in her case, babysitters—usually went to.

     "Well, none of the other players actually have personal assistants." The admission made her pause, and she would have stopped if not for George's maneuvering. He must have noticed her worried look, because he quickly smiled and shook his head. "Don't worry. Niko has been told, in no uncertain terms, that we were assigning him one until we can be assured he'll meet his obligations. I'm sure everything will work out just fine."

     "Are you sure this is something his agent shouldn't be doing? I mean, if Mr. Petrovich doesn't want one..." A hundred thoughts swirled through her mind, and Bobbi had a bad feeling about all of them.

     "No. I mean, that is...he knows he doesn't have a choice. The team has hired you. There isn't much he can do about it."

     Bobbi swallowed her ire, biting back her sarcastic reply. There was a world of difference between a personal assistant and a babysitter. To hear again that her 'client' was being straddled with one against his will didn't inspire much confidence in what she was about to do, no matter what title she was assigned. Was Nikolai Petrovich really as difficult as Toomey was making him out to be? Although her first impression of George Toomey wasn't the most favorable, so maybe there was a reason Petrovich wasn't cooperating.

     "Well, I'm sure things will work out, regardless." Bobbi didn't believe the words at all, but thought they sounded good.

     George chuckled, and she couldn't suppress the impression that it was as forced and empty as her comment. "I'm sure it will be. Well, follow me, and you can meet Niko and find out for yourself."

     They walked through another door, and she was immediately thankful that the din wasn't quite as loud in here—probably because there was only one person in sight.

     His back was to them as he leaned over a bench and did something to his skates. His hands were large but graceful, with long fingers and blunt nails. Bobbi stumbled, trying not to stare at the broad bare back that tapered down to a trim waist. Bulky hockey shorts rode low on his hips, and his long legs were hidden by thick pads and socks. She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat, wondering if the rest of his body was as large and powerful as what she could see. And God help her, she should not be drooling over this man, not when she was here to investigate him.

     Her escort waited until they were only a few feet away before he cleared his throat. "Niko, there's someone I want you to meet."

     George grasped her by the elbow and gently tugged her forward, pulling her even closer. She had the weird feeling that she was being offered up as a sacrifice...and the idea didn't scare her at all. She closed her mind on that thought, pushing it away as the player straightened and turned toward her. Bobbi barely resisted the urge to take a step back. If not for George standing so close behind her, she might have given in.

     She had known what he looked like, and not just from the picture in his file. She had
known
, but she wasn't prepared for him in person. She wasn't prepared for his sheer size. And she certainly wasn't prepared for the strong physical reaction of her body. Pure, powerful, immediate. Sexual. 

     The man in front of her was well over six-three even without skates. Broad shoulders, broad chest, biceps and arms that were made for holding a woman's body. Bobbi's eyes drifted down his broad chest and sculpted abs, instinctively following the thin line of pale hair that disappeared into the padded shorts. Her breath hitched in her throat and her face flamed with heat as she jerked her eyes back up to his face.

     His eyes held her firmly in place. They were an odd color blue, deep and dark in the center, ringed by a paler blue at the edges. Despite the small grin on his face that let her know she had been caught ogling him, his eyes fixed on her with a look completely devoid of all emotion. It left her with the impression that he was only playing a scripted part he had no interest in. The thought left her chilled.

     Bobbi gave herself a mental shake and cleared her throat. She took a step toward him and thrust her hand out. "Mr. Petrovich, my name is Bobbi Reeves. I'm your new assistant."

     He stared at her for a long moment then switched his gaze to the man now standing beside her. "I said no."

     "Niko, we've discussed this before. The decision has been made and you have no choice in the matter. You
will
have a personal assistant. Please try to not do anything that could result in a lawsuit against the team." George nodded in her direction then abruptly turned and walked away. Bobbi stared after him, feeling like she had just been dumped in the middle of a game without being told the rules.

     She closed her eyes and let out a loud sigh. It didn't matter if she didn't have a copy of Toomey's game rules—she had her own. And whether it was personal assistant or babysitter, it was officially show time.

     "Mr. Petrovich, I realize this isn't the best time, so if we could set up a meeting for—"

     "No. No assistant. Go home." He turned his back to her and began gathering equipment, pulling on his jersey and covering up the broad expanse of bare skin, muttering under his breath in Russian. She was only able to catch a few of the words but it was enough to know he was insulting both her and his team managers. She tightened her mouth against the retort she wanted to make, remembering that she wasn't to let anyone know she understood Russian, and took a step closer to him.

     "I'm sorry Mr. Petrovich, but you'll have to speak English if you want me to understand what you're saying."

     He muttered a few more phrases before turning to face her, impaling her with those odd-colored eyes. She schooled her face into a blank expression, careful not to show any reaction when he ended his tirade by calling her an 'annoying pest'.

     "I'm not sure what you just said, but it didn't sound very flattering." Bobbi offered him a bright smile, not surprised that he didn't return it. He continued to stare down at her, unmoving. She cleared her throat and looked away, her eyes drifting once more down across his chest and stomach. He was completely covered now, but still no less impressive. In fact, he was a little intimidating.

     He took a step toward her and held his arms out to his sides. "You like what you see, no?"

     Bobbi forced her eyes to meet his eyes, her face heating at being caught staring. Again. "No. I mean, yes. No." She backpedaled, thinking fast. "Actually, I was just thinking that you're pretty intimidating. And you don't even have to work at it. I mean, look at you. You're like...a giant or something...and all you have to do is stare me down and see?" She shrugged and held her arms out in mock surrender. "Instant intimidation."

     Had his lips just quirked? She thought so, but couldn't be sure. Not knowing what guided her but knowing she should listen to her instincts—and her instincts told her not to come off so serious—she turned her head from one side to the other, looking around them. It was nothing more than an exaggerated theatrical showing, but again his lips quirked, just the tiniest bit toward a smile. She crooked her finger in a beckoning motion. Petrovich raised an eyebrow at her but reluctantly leaned forward.

     "Something you should know about me, Mr. Petrovich," Bobbi's voice was a stage whisper as she stepped so close to him that she was touching him. A jolt of awareness shot through her body, surprising her, but it was too late to back away. And did she imagine it, or was that a flicker of awareness flashing through his eyes? Or maybe it was just a flicker of amusement that crossed his face as he looked down at her. "I'm not easily intimidated!"

     Rough laughter rumbled deep in his chest, catching Bobbi off-guard. The sound was almost seductive, and she had to blink several times to keep any surprise from showing.

     "You are funny. I like that." He studied her for a long minute, the look in his eyes so intense that she thought she would ignite under his gaze. She nervously cleared her throat and stepped back, ignoring the heat spreading through her.

     "See? You should keep me around for the amusement factor." Her voice was a husky whisper, completely destroying the aloof appearance she had hoped for.

     He raised an eyebrow at her again, clearly skeptical, before running his gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her sensible black shoes. She fought the urge to cross her arms in front of her as his gaze lingered a little too long on her chest. He was clearly sizing her up but instinct told her that, despite the sexual sizzle in his look, there was nothing threatening about it. It was almost as if he was...testing, maybe?

     "So, you are good in bed?"

     Forget testing. And never mind the instant pooling of heat between her legs the comment—and his heated look—caused. He was pushing her, to see how far he could go, to see what her limits were. Which probably explained Toomey's lawsuit comment. Well, he was going to be surprised, because she had been through this routine hundreds of times before.

     "I like to think I am. Would you like a list of references?" She made a show of reaching into the oversized bah hanging from her shoulder. "I'm pretty sure it's in here somewhere."

     He laughed again, and this time there was no mistaking the heat that spread through her at the sound. She turned her gaze back to him and offered a tentative but genuine smile. So what if there was a blush on her face? Let him see it, let her use it to her advantage.

     "You are amusing," he said again, in an accent that wasn't quite as thick as she first thought. "But, I am busy."

     "We can schedule a meeting—hey!" Bobbi let out an undignified and completely unprofessional squeal as Nikolai leaned his shoulder into her stomach and tossed her over his shoulder. She clutched at the back of his jersey, feeling the steely strength of the bunched muscles in his back and arms. He tightened his hold around her legs, stopping their wild kicking. The warmth of his hands moved dangerously high up the backs of her thighs, nearly cupping her bottom, and Bobbi was suddenly glad that she had worn dress pants. The flash of sexual desire that tore through her instantly stilled her struggles and quieted her objections, so that nothing more than a whimper came out of her mouth.

     And she wasn't entirely sure that it was a whimper of protest.

     "Yes, tomorrow we will meet. George will tell you where. But for now,
moj dosadnyj malen'kij bich
, you will leave me alone." He unceremoniously carried her from the room and slowly lowered her against his body before placing her on her feet. He dragged his thumb along her cheek and winked at her. Then, before she realized what he was doing, he walked away, leaving her standing there, alone and bewildered.

     And more than just a little excited and intrigued.

**

     This could
not
be the right place.

     Bobbi looked down at the address and directions that had been scribbled on a sheet of paper for her, then back at the brick row home on her right. She had driven around the block several times, and triple-checked the directions—surely there had to be some mistake.

     But no, this was the right place. At least, according to what she had been told, anyway. There was always a chance that someone had sent her on a wild goose chase in an attempt to drive her away.

     Petrovich's weird-colored eyes and warm laughter quickly came to mind. No, it wouldn't surprise her if this was his idea of a joke, another way to intimidate her.

     Or infuriate her.

     She flipped down the visor and did a quick check in the vanity mirror: hair lightly tousled, make-up on neatly, just enough to be noticeable if someone wanted to notice. Not that she wanted anyone to notice.

     Liar
. She pushed the accusation away. This was work. That was all it could be. Besides, she told herself, she doubted if the sexual attraction she felt yesterday was two-way. It was probably the big Russian's way of running people off.