Her Man Advantage (7 page)

She peered around, but didn’t see any handhelds trained on them this time. Besides, they needed to clear the air right now, before she set foot on a bus or a plane with him.

“I most certainly don’t.” She didn’t want to be caught on tape again any more than he did. “But when you’re emphatic about how much trouble one kiss is going to make for you, I can’t help but think you’re involved with someone else.”

6

W
HOEVER
SAID
THAT
REDHEADS
had a temper wasn’t kidding.

Axel couldn’t believe the righteous indignation in Jennifer’s eyes, knowing she had zero grounds for the accusation she’d just hurled his way. A smarter guy would probably walk away and leave her to figure out she’d been shooting in the dark with that one. But, perversely, he saw beyond the wrongheaded allegation to the surprising level of emotion behind it.

Sure Jennifer might have a temper. But she also had a passionate nature that called to him like no other woman ever had.

He was silent for so long, his nosy teammates jumped into the mix.

“Axel, you have a girlfriend?” Leandre Archambault piped up in his heavy French-Canadian accent. The power forward was sour on both Axel and Kyle Murphy since their arrival had taken him off the first line to go out onto the ice. “What woman takes a second look at the defensive goon?”

“Hey, I didn’t know you were back on the market,” another player called from the Hacky Sack game. “My sister wants to meet you, Ax.”

They went around like that for a minute, half the guys arguing that Ax had a face only a mother could love and the other half suggesting female friends and relatives for dating options.

Through it all, Jennifer appeared confused and—the longer it went on—irritated.

“Are you saying he
doesn’t
have a girlfriend?” she asked the player closest to her who just happened to be mouthy Leandre with the chip on his shoulder.

Axel crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the bus, not wanting to let on that he cared about the answer one way or another. Well, at least he didn’t want to reveal any hint of weakness to Archambault.

“Are you asking as a director or because you’re interested?” Leandre retorted, clearly not knowing who he was dealing with.

“Why?” Jennifer asked sweetly. “Are you pimping him out?”

The question earned a chorus of “ooohh” from the growing crowd of onlookers and Axel decided he’d had enough help from his teammates on the issue.

“Would you like to find a seat on the bus?” he asked, straightening.

“Actually, I thought I’d bring my own car to the airstrip and let some of my staff take the bus instead.” She didn’t seem deflated, exactly, but some of the temper had leaked away.

She must have realized she’d been wrong.

“Great. I’ll ride with you.” He pulled out his phone and sent a text to the coach and to his brother, Kyle, so they’d know where he was. “Where are you parked?”

“Over here.” She must have arrived at the building early that morning to have nabbed such a primo spot. A new-model hybrid rental sat right next to the rear entrance. Pulling out her keys, she paused beside the vehicle. “I don’t drive that much, living in Manhattan. Would you do the honors?”

She dangled her keys in front of him and he sensed a peace offering. But how could he let her off the hook so easily after she’d jumped to such a crappy conclusion about him?

“Depends.” He didn’t take the keys. Instead, he tugged her behind the SUV hybrid so no one in the parking lot could see them. “What will you do for me in return?”

Her green eyes went wide and he saw a spark of awareness in them. In spite of everything—getting filmed during their kiss, being dragged into this damn thing and then being wrongfully accused of two-timing her—Axel still wanted her. Really, really wanted her.

“How about if I forgive you for the nonexistent girlfriend?” Her sheepish reply didn’t strike him as nearly contrite enough.

He double-checked their surroundings for cameras and found they were thoroughly alone. His hands circled her wrists and he tugged her closer.

“You can do better than that.”

“I can’t imagine what you’d want.” She smiled up at him, a soft yellow sundress hugging her slight curves and showing off a hint of shoulder that made him want to kiss her there.

“Then we’d better work on your imagination.” Lifting a finger to trace the wide strap at her neck, he smoothed the cotton fabric over her collarbone and down the front of her chest to where it met the top of her dress.

She felt silky-smooth and warm.

She didn’t bother to hide the shiver that went through her. The throb of pulse at her throat picked up speed.

“That’s helping,” she confessed. “I’m starting to get more ideas for making it up to you.”

“Good.” He slid the keys from her fingers and hit the remote fob to unlock the passenger side. “You can tell me about them—in detail—once we’re safely behind locked doors and tinted windows.”

“Very wise. I like this cautious side of you.” She stepped into the vehicle and took her seat while he tucked the trailing hem of her skirt safely out of the way of the door.

“One of us needs to be sensible. And apparently that’s the role I’m going to get stuck with in this relationship since you’re way too reckless.”

Her jaw dropped as if she’d never heard such an accusation.

“Impulsive, maybe. Reckless? Never.”

“I wasn’t the one seeing girlfriends where there are none. And I wasn’t the one climbing the rafters yesterday.”

“Yes, well. Much has been made out of that and it was hardly a climb at all.”

He let her have the point so he could close the door and walk around to the driver’s side. He started the engine and checked the rearview mirror to see if the team bus was almost ready to leave. Plenty of guys were still milling around outside.

“So I’m going to collect on that apology of yours,” he promised her, wishing he had enough time and space to have her make good on it right here, right now. “And I’ll explain about the phone calls I needed to make this afternoon. But first, I’d like to figure out what we’re going to do to keep this thing between us out of the camera’s eye. And I’d like to know why your boss wields your talent like a puppeteer. Shouldn’t you be calling the shots for your project?”

“I’m not anyone’s puppet.” Her eyes flashed. “I’m just taking more instruction on this piece because I’ve been accused of not giving my films enough commercial appeal.”

Axel considered her words as he watched the equipment truck pull out of the parking lot. Transporting the skates and sticks, jerseys and pads took a lot of cargo space. But they also traveled with promotional paraphernalia and signs for the walls, enough reminders of home to make the visiting team’s locker room into more comfortable terrain.

“Is there any truth to that accusation?” He would far prefer that her film reach an audience of twelve.

“My subjects are usually geared to more of a niche market.” She popped open the purse at her feet and pulled out a handful of trifold flyers. “My first independent film revealed the gaps in government programs for women and children. Since then I’ve documented the watering down of public education, the violent behaviors of youth culture—”

“And they wanted you to do a hockey documentary?” He thumbed through the brochures she handed him, each one a promotional piece on a film she’d made. “Why pick a social crusader to chronicle our sport? Unless they want you to create some kind of controversy…”

He could already imagine the media angles. Hockey had been raked over the coals for being too violent often enough. He bristled, hating the thought of negative press around the sport he lived and breathed. Settling the flyers on the console between the seats, he wondered if he’d be seeing one soon that depicted hockey as some bloodthirsty caveman sport.

“No. I might have been more excited about this piece if that had been the case.” She turned around in the passenger seat to peer out the back window, her cinnamon-colored hair slipping off her shoulder as she moved. “It looks like the team bus is ready to go.”

He pried his eyes from the creamy patch of skin visible at the base of her neck, then shifted the SUV into Reverse to follow his teammates to a nearby airstrip.

“So what gives?” He felt only a trace of guilt at quizzing her about the movie, knowing she probably wouldn’t have talked to him so freely if they hadn’t been growing closer.

But he had damn good reasons for wanting to know more and he needed to plow ahead.

“I think the producers want the sleek look and editing that I can bring to the final product since I’ve been receiving critical notice this year. But they’re maintaining full control of the content to dictate the way I pull it together.”

He mulled that over as they turned onto the highway for the short trip. “And you agreed because they enticed you with some interesting future project you couldn’t refuse.”

“A film about the way social media depersonalizes human interaction and becomes a sophisticated medium for cyberbullying.” There was a fierceness in her voice that revealed how much the issue meant to her.

“So you’re in their pocket.” His sticking close to the director had backfired in a spectacular way.

For one thing, Jennifer didn’t have the final say on how this documentary turned out. For another, his attraction to her had only put him more directly in front of the camera lens he’d hoped to avoid.

“I like to think of it as contractually obligated. Besides, maybe it will be easier to take a commercial approach on a topic where I’m not as personally invested.”

“Yet.” He slowed down for a motorcycle in front of him and then moved into the passing lane. “We’ll make a hockey fan out of you at tonight’s game. I think you’re going to become personally invested in a hurry.”

As he went to pass the bike, the rider sped up. Not in a mood to play games, Axel eased back into the driving lane. Only then did he notice the leather vest the biker wore. The all-too-familiar insignia of a notorious motorcycle club that had branches on both sides of the Atlantic—Destroyers MC.

Shit.

Axel accelerated again, telling himself it was just a coincidence. Had to be. Jen’s film hadn’t even been released yet and he hadn’t done a damn thing to attract the attention of his former gang. Besides, he wasn’t even driving his own car.

Still, his old club had intelligence connections to rival the State Department. They could have gotten wind of the documentary series long before he had. Reaching to the passenger side, he felt for Jen’s buckle, making sure she was safely strapped in.

Vaguely, he realized she was still speaking—something about hockey. Too bad his brain had tuned out everything but the rider in front of him. He’d always known they’d let him walk away too easily. That they’d come to collect somehow, someday.

“Axel?” Jen’s voice finally penetrated the cold fog of anxiety that surrounded him. “Are you okay? The bus is way ahead of us.”

“Is it?” He remembered that isolating a driver was a precursor to running him off the road.

Was this rider trying to separate them from the team? From the rest of traffic? Back in Finland, Axel had seen the kind of violence that gang was famous for.

“There’s the turn for the airport.” Jennifer pointed out the windshield to the left.

Just as the long-haired giant in Destroyers leathers put on his signal to make the same turn.

“Damn it.” He stifled other curses—both in English and Finnish—as the rider stayed ahead of them. Then he hit the automatic locks on the doors.

The private airstrip was on a quiet county road and the team bus was well out of sight.

“What’s wrong?” Beside him, Jennifer sounded puzzled.

“The guy in front of us.” Ax wiped a hand along his forehead, realizing he’d broken out in a cold sweat like a rookie goalie in his first shoot-out. “I think he wants to make trouble.”

“The burly dude on the motorcycle?” She sat forward in her seat. “Someone you know?”

Without warning, the biker threw on his brakes in the middle of the driving lane.

“What is he doing?” Jennifer shouted, gripping the dashboard.

Axel swerved to avoid him. Thank God there was no oncoming traffic.

As he stepped on the gas, he glared out the passenger window at the big, muscle-bound rider who’d nearly killed them all.

The guy’s expressionless face told Axel this was no accident. The man pointed his finger at them and flexed his thumb, pantomiming a gun.

* * *

“
W
HAT
THE
HELL
WAS
THAT
all about?” Heart still racing at top speed, Jennifer clutched her chest as if she could slow her pulse with her hand. “Who was that and why does he have a death wish?”

She turned in her seat to watch the brain-addled biker dude out the back window. He just sat there in the middle of the road, straddling his bike and staring after them. Why didn’t he move out of the lane before another car came along?

“It’s a long story.” Axel’s cool, distant voice brought her head around.

“So? We’ve got nothing to do but talk on the way up to Montreal.”

“I am not sharing this with the team.” He gripped the wheel hard, the obvious tension in his posture making her remember something from the incident. His accent softened when he spoke slowly. Deliberately. He’d been in the U.S. for the last year of high school and all of college, but the foreign cadence still came through.