Major Misconduct (Aces Hockey #1) (2 page)

“Okay, back to the topic at hand,” Duncan said. “You can’t stay here.”

Still watching Marc, Lovey saw his head snap up.

“I have to stay here, Dunc. Where else am I going to go?”

He cursed under his breath. “But I told you, there’s nowhere for you to sleep.”

“Uh…she can have my bed,” Marc offered.

Lovey beamed at him. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“She can’t have your fucking bed,” Duncan snapped. “Where the hell are you going to sleep?”

Marc shrugged. “Couch?”

“
I’ll
sleep on the couch.” Duncan gave a gusty sigh. “One night. One night only. After that, you have to stay in a hotel or something, Lovey.”

“I can’t afford a hotel!” She gaped at him. “D’you think my last job paid me multi-millions of dollars like yours does?”

“Quit throwing my money in my face.” He slumped into the couch with a scowl.

“I’m not throwing it in your face.” She blinked. “I’m just pointing out what should be obvious…my marketing job for Kleinheinz Cheese did not pay enough for me to be able to afford to stay in a pricey Chicago hotel indefinitely.”

“You have enough to rent an apartment, don’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Um…I have a little money. I sold my car.”

“Lovey…”

“Duncan.”

They glared at each other in one of their famous sibling standoffs. She lifted her chin.

As usual, she won.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Stay here until you get on your feet. But it better not be long. And you better not be in our way.”

“Thanks, Dunc.” She smiled. “I promise I won’t be. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Why do I doubt that?” Duncan shook his head.

She looked over at Marc and saw he was grinning at the counter he was wiping.

Cheese whiz, he was gorgeous! Even more so when he smiled. Earlier he’d been so straight-faced and serious. A little curl of lust warmed her inside.

“We need to get going.” Marc looked at her brother, the grin now absent. “Gotta get to the dealership.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Duncan gave her a narrow-eyed look as he rose from the couch. “I’m buying a new vehicle. Gotta go sign the papers and pick it up.”

“Oooh. What kind?”

“Land Rover.”

“Duncan! You can’t drive a truck in Chicago!”

“It’s not a truck, for fuck’s sake.”

She made a face. “If you say so. I’ll unpack and get settled in. Hey, could you pick me up a bed on your way home?” He bugged his eyes out at her and she laughed. “Kidding! We can do that tomorrow.”

“What about the stuff from your apartment in Madison? Where’s that?”

“Storage. I’ll get it shipped here when I find my own place.”

“You mean you actually do intend to find your own place?”

“Uh…
yeah.
” She gave him a “duh” look. “I can’t stay with you forever. Although, I could get some of the stuff shipped here…my bedroom set. And…” She glanced at his dining room full of weights. “You could use a dining table and chairs.”

“Fuck no. I mean…I’ll help you find a nice apartment.”

“Sure. As long as you don’t mind sleeping on the couch until I do.”

He groaned and she heard a laugh from the kitchen. She looked back at Marc and their eyes met. His gleamed with mirth and she felt that little kick of lust again.

He grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Army taken out so easily. This is hilarious.”

Duncan scowled. “Shut the fuck up, Duper.”

Her eyes met Marc’s and held again and she grinned back at him, trying (but failing) to ignore the flip of lust and attraction low in her belly. He looked at her long enough that she knew he felt it too.

Well, she certainly hadn’t anticipated something like this. She’d come to Chicago to move on with her life. Things with Richard had gotten serious enough that she’d been scared spitless; scared enough to break up with him, quit her job, pack up all her belongings, and run. She had a plan, figured there’d be lots of opportunities in Chicago, and was going to get right on that, first thing Monday morning. She hadn’t planned on living with a hot hockey player with a body that could turn a girl to a puddle of lust…but this was going to be fun!

Marc chuckled all the way to the Land Rover dealership, annoying the hell out of his teammate and roommate.

“What the fuck is so amusing?” Army snarled.

“If she wasn’t your sister, I’d call you pussy-whipped.”

“Fuck off.”

Marc laughed outright. “Just never seen you so outclassed, dude.”

“Whatever.”

Marc smirked.

“What am I supposed to do?” Army demanded. “Turn her out onto the streets of Chicago?”

“Of course not. And she knew that.”

“She didn’t even tell me she was coming.” Duncan rubbed his forehead. “Christ. She quit her job. Just when she seemed to be settling down. Last I heard, she had a pretty serious boyfriend too. Guess that’s over.”

A boyfriend? Not fucking likely, the way she’d been looking at him. Marc shot Army a sideways glance as he drove. “She does this often?”

“Eh. She quits. She gets fired. She flits from one job to another like a fucking hummingbird. One boyfriend to another. This guy she was seeing actually lasted more than a few dates. Now all of a sudden she wants to move to Chicago. Jesus.”

“She’s young.”

“She’s not that young. She’s twenty-four. Only three years younger than us. She needs to settle down.”

Marc nodded. “Yeah, but think, man, we were on our own when we were teenagers, basically. We were playing and living in an adult world before we could even drink legally. Pro hockey makes you grow up fast.”

Army sighed. “Yeah. True. Heh. Especially you, Captain Codger.”

Marc rolled his eyes at the nickname. It didn’t bug him as much as it had at first. He knew the guys liked to jerk him around, but they did it with respect. And he’d earned the reputation of being serious and responsible, on the ice and off. That was him, and it was important to him to take his career and his responsibilities seriously.

Army shook his head. “I’ll let her stay for a while, but seriously, she’ll have to find her own place. Don’t worry.”

Marc shrugged. “I wasn’t worried.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Army’s little sister was smokin’ hot. At first Marc had thought his roommate had a hot chick visiting him and he’d been all
Whoa, way to go, dude,
but when he’d learned she was Army’s sister, he’d backpedaled fast. He couldn’t get out of there before she’d jumped up and rushed at him with a fucking dazzling smile, so goddamn gorgeous he couldn’t get his feet to move and could barely string two words together. Her smile was luminous, all white teeth and dimples and glowing face. Long, wavy red-gold hair gleamed in the sunlight and, fuck him, even though she’d been wearing clothes that covered her from chin to toes, her body was stellar—a soft blue sweater outlined high, firm tits and a small waist that curved into round hips. He couldn’t see her legs, but they were long, her snug black pants revealing slender thighs.

Shut it down, man.

She was Army’s sister and therefore waaaay the fuck off-limits.

And that was why he was maybe a little worried about her living with them. Just a smidgen worried. But hey. He was Captain Codger. He had no issues with self-control, self-discipline, or being responsible. He could easily ignore a hot babe living in the apartment with them. No problem. No problem at all.

Army’s phone pinged and he peered at the screen. “Great. An email from my mom warning me Lovey’s on her way. Thanks, Mom.” He shook his head as he tapped a reply. “She wants me to make sure Lovey’s okay in the big city. Jesus.”

Yeah, Lovey seemed like she was going to be okay.

They arrived at the dealership and while Army signed the paperwork, Marc wandered around looking at the vehicles, trying to ignore the attention from the staff, male and female. The receptionist approached him for an autograph.

“You’re my favorite player.” She let out a breathy laugh. “I watch all the games.”

“Yeah?” He obliged by scrawling his messy signature across the Land Rover pamphlet she held out, adding his jersey number beneath it. “You watch that last game against Philly?”

“Of course! You guys played great.”

He stuck his tongue into one cheek and nodded. “Thanks.” They’d sucked. They’d lost three-one, probably their worst game so far, another game added to their losing streak.

“D’you speak French?” Her eyes widened.

“Mais oui.”
He grinned.

“That is soooo sexy.” She stared at him.

Câlisse.
He resisted the urge to sigh and smiled instead.
“Merci.”

“I love your accent.”

He wanted to frown. He barely had an accent. He’d been raised by a Francophone mother and Anglophone father, and although his education had been all in French growing up in Quebec, he spoke both languages fluently. Maybe there was a bit of an accent. Whatever.

“Hey, Armdog,” he called to his friend. “I’m gonna head out. Meet you at the Sin Bin?”

“Yeah. Be there soon.”

The Sin Bin was a restaurant/bar owned by one of their teammates, Jared Rupp. They often hung out there with other Aces players. Friday night, no game, afternoon practice, they’d all planned to head there for food and drinks. Army would meet him there, driving in his sweet new ride.

Marc had to smile at Army’s choice. You could take the boy out of the farm, but you couldn’t take the farm out of the boy. Army had grown up on a dairy farm in the heart of Wisconsin, feeding and milking cows. He was a total redneck, wearing a camo baseball cap backward, dressed in faded jeans and boots, and had recently grown a heavy beard. He liked to fish and hunt and spend time in the great outdoors, and living in Chicago had driven him nuts at first. Even now, he still got antsy surrounded by skyscrapers and concrete and glittery lights.

Apparently Lovey Armstrong had grown up on the same dairy farm. You’d never know it to look at her, though. Other than the sprinkle of faint freckles over her nose and cheeks, she looked all city girl, with bright hair parted in the middle and curling over her shoulders, shiny lips, and stylish clothes, including sexy high-heeled boots…yeah, she was no redneck. Or whatever the female term for redneck was. Wasn’t there a song about a redneck woman…Whatever. That was clearly not her.

Marc headed downtown, where Rupper’s restaurant was located. The place was super popular, especially since the Aces had won the Stanley Cup two years ago. Lots of puck bunnies hoping to run into hockey players. Nothing wrong with that. More important, the food was fantastic and it was a fun place, so it wasn’t just people hanging out to meet hockey players, it was actually a well-respected Chicago restaurant.

He walked into the Sin Bin and turned left to enter the bar, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck. Voices filled the room along with a tune by Imagine Dragons. Marc’s eyes swept the room and spotted teammate and owner of the bar Jared Rupp, aka the Ruppinator. Or just Rupper. Or GQ, since he was always all duded up.

Rupper stood at a tall table where four women sat on stools. They were all gazing raptly at him as he talked, and as Marc approached the table, he caught smiles, a lot of hair flipping, and then laughter. Rupper was such a womanizer.

Rupper flashed a smile, then spotted Marc as he neared the table. “Dupe! Get over here, man.”

All four female heads swiveled to look at him and four flirty smiles beamed at him in recognition. He grinned in return. “Hey, Rupper.”

All the women were pretty, dressed professionally, apparently there for happy hour after work.

“Marc Dupuis.” A sophisticated blonde spoke up in a husky voice. “Team captain. Nice to meet you. I’m Angel.” She extended a hand and Marc found himself shaking hands with a beautiful woman for the second time that day, and then three more times as each of Angel’s friends introduced themselves.

“I was just telling them about that time Pilker and Hughie ordered breakfast for me and Stoykers on a road trip.” Rupper grinned.

Marc gave a brief eye roll. “Kids these days.” They’d arrived at the hotel in New York at two in the morning, and Pilker and Hughie had filled out a room service card requesting breakfast, enough for ten guys—eggs, three kinds of juice, sausages, bacon, cereal, fruit—to be served in the room at six a.m.—and hung the card on Rupper and goalie Brent Stoyko’s door. They’d been so pissed to be woken up that early, when they didn’t have a meeting until eleven, not to mention they had to foot the bill for the entire breakfast feast.

Marc had never been big into the jokes and pranks some of the other guys pulled. Unfortunately that often meant he was the victim of such pranks, like the nearly-cut-through skate laces that snapped when he yanked on them, or the cup of water in the shin pads on the upper shelf in his locker that hit him in the face when he pulled his shin pads down. Har. At least he’d never been rolled up in a mattress, duct-taped, and sent to the lobby in the hotel elevator like Benny.

“Where’s Army?” Rupper asked.

“Left him at the dealership. He should be here any minute.” He explained to the women, “Duncan Armstrong. He just bought a new vehicle.”

“Need a beer?” Rupper asked. “Whatcha want? Moens lager? Or Pale Ale?”

“Pale Ale.”

Rupper left to get it. Moens Breweries was part owner and sponsor of the Chicago Aces. Nobody’d ever told them they had to drink Moens beer but it was pretty much understood. Good thing he liked it.

He chatted with the four women. Rupper returned with his beer and rejoined them, and it wasn’t long before Army arrived, followed by Aces goaltender Brent Stoyko and their newest team member, Andrew Ross, who’d been traded to them from the LA Kings at the end of last season. They pulled over another table and more stools. Marc found himself beside Angel, who engaged him in a side conversation about his hockey background.

She gave him a flirty look. “So are you seeing anyone right now?”

“Nope.” He took a pull of his beer. Since Marissa had dumped his ass six months ago, he was single and free, free to flirt and pick up chicks and bang their brains out for one night. Eh. Too bad that wasn’t really his style.

The truth was, he’d been pretty settled down with Marissa. They’d been together three years, and lived together for nearly two of those. He’d been thinking about asking her to marry him. And then, wham, she’d cut him loose, because he wasn’t
romantic
enough, for Chrissakes, and he still felt kind of…adrift. Or something.

“I’m single too.” Angel smiled.

He studied her, with her sleek hair and perfect makeup. He wasn’t gonna lie, he’d had some hookups, trying to forget Marissa, or sometimes just because he was horny.

He drank more beer. What the hell. Maybe this was one of those nights. He could take Angel to his place—his mind screeched to a halt, remembering the woman staying there.

Crap.

He focused his attention back on Angel and their conversation. She was coming on strong now, and he knew he could have her in his bed no problem…Wait.

Was he supposed to be sleeping on the couch?

No, Army’d said
he
would sleep on the couch. Okay, this could still work…

And then a soft lilting voice said from behind him, “Hi, guys!”

He turned to see the source of his distraction—Lovey Armstrong. She beamed that radiant smile, standing there in a bright red jacket, her purse over her shoulder. Her eyes shifted to Angel beside him, very
close
beside him, leaning in so her breasts almost brushed his arm, and Lovey’s eyes flickered, but the smile remained in full force.

“Hey, Lovey.” Army moved around the table toward his sister. “You made it.”

Marc looked at Army with a raised eyebrow. Army caught the look and shrugged, then took Lovey’s arm and drew her forward. “You remember Jared, right? And I think you’ve met Brent. And this is Andrew Ross.”

“Yes. Hi! Nice to see you again. Nice to meet you.” She greeted the other two guys, then introductions were made of the girls.

Army moved nearer to Marc. “I had to invite her,” he muttered in his ear. “She was sitting in the condo all alone.”

Marc rubbed his tongue over his top teeth to keep from smiling. She didn’t even have to do anything and her big brother was twisted around her little finger.

He watched as she greeted the other women with the same smile and pleasure she’d displayed for the guys.

“Love your suit,” she said to Sadie. “Is it Marc Jacobs?”

“Yeah, it is. Thanks.”

“Looks great on you.” Her approving nod gave her comment a sincere warmth and Sadie looked pleased.

“What would you like to drink?” Stoykers asked her. “I’m going to the bar.”

“I’ll go.” Andrew Ross, known as Rosser, shoved the goalie with a big shoulder.

“No, man, it’s okay, I got it.”

Rosser frowned. Army gave them both his raised-eyebrows look of displeasure.

“Oh.” Lovey studied the drinks on the table and pointed at Angel’s drink. “What’s that?”

“A pineapple margarita.”

“Oooh…is it good?”

“Fabulous.”

Lovey beamed. “Okay, I’ll have one of those.”

Stoykers disappeared into the crowd. With the owner of the restaurant at their table, they’d been getting great service. Lovey could wait a few minutes for a waitress to show up. Neither Stoykers nor Rosser had to rush off to get her a drink, for Chrissakes. They were practically brawling over who was going to look after her.

“Thanks for calling.” Lovey poked Army’s shoulder. “It’s so nice to meet more of your friends.” And her smile radiated at everyone around the table.

Marc nearly choked on his beer. Since this was the first time they’d ever laid eyes on these women, they could hardly call them friends. But whatever.

From two tables away, he watched her start a conversation with Sadie and Jenna, smilingly accept her drink from Brent when he returned, then laugh at something he said. Stoykers stood beside her stool rather than return to his own, joining in the chat with the other women.

“Is your name actually Lovey?” Sadie asked. “Or is that short for something?”

Lovey grimaced. “It’s short for Lovina. Apparently it was my Grandma Heywood’s name. I hated being called Lovey as a kid—you can imagine the grief I got. But Lovina’s not much better.”