Offside (7 page)

“Hey. I work hard at my
job.”

Her lips pursed and twisted to one
side. “I know you do. That’s not what I meant.”

“We’ll go somewhere close to the
Coliseum,” he suggested. Then after a pause, he said, “Or maybe
not.”

She smiled.

“Where do you live?” he asked. “Is
there somewhere close to home we could meet?”

Once again she was silent as she
struggled for a reply. She got tense thinking about some of the
bars or clubs he might suggest they go to. “I live in Santa Monica.
Sixth Street. But that doesn’t matter…”

“Okay, somewhere downtown. How about
Noir?”

Her muscles relaxed at the suggestion.
A small, classy wine bar, Noir would probably not be full of the
people she used to hang around with. She sighed. “Okay. I have a
few more things to do and then I’m off.”

“Meet around six?”

She agreed and hung up. Lunch. Drinks.
She needed to be careful or she’d think Matt Heller was still
interested in her. Or interested again. But that was just
crazy.

She vaguely wished she had time to go
home and change or redo her makeup. She’d had no meetings that day
so she’d dressed in a pair of low-rise black pants with a white
T-shirt tucked into them and a gauzy black and white scarf wound
around her neck. But that was the old Honey, worried about things
like clothes and makeup. It didn’t matter what she looked
like.

Parking for Noir was in a lot behind
the building. She walked around the black-painted brick structure
to the front entrance, a bright red double door, enjoying the late
afternoon sunshine and the ocean-scented breeze. Inside, she
blinked as she waited for eyes to adjust. Damn. Matt could be there
but she couldn’t see a thing. Then an arm slid around her waist and
she jumped.

“Hey,” Matt’s voice said close to her
ear. “Easy. Just me.”

“Sorry. It’s dark in here. I didn’t
see you.” She focused on his smile. And on moving away from his
very big, very warm body.

“I figured that. Come on. I got a
table over here.”

She followed him through the dimness
to a small table for two in the corner. The place was full—happy
hour indeed. People lined the bar and every table was occupied,
that hum of voices mingling with shouts from bartenders and
clinking glasses.

She hung her purse on the back of her
chair, which Matt held for her with gentlemanly consideration. Even
as a young guy, twenty years old when she’d last known him, he’d
been like that. Different than most of the guys she’d hung around
with, who’d been obnoxiously spoiled rich kids.

She ordered a glass of Cabernet
Sauvignon from the large selection printed on the menu card on the
table. A pretty black pottery bowl on the table held assorted
olives. Nice.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Matt said,
picking up his own glass of red wine.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “But we
could have handled this in a phone call. I’m sure you’re a busy
guy.”

He shrugged. “Not busy enough. That’s
why I wanted to get involved with more things, to fill my
time.”

She nodded.

“I spent weeks in the hospital,” he
continued. “Then pretty much all my time on rehab, trying to get
better. I’m ready to have a normal life again. Doing fun things.
Doing things that matter.”

She studied him, her heart going soft
in her chest. Crap, he really got to her. Something about him just
made her want to crawl across the table on her hands and knees and
lick and kiss him everywhere.

“Was it hard?” she asked softly. She
got a funny ache down low inside her thinking again about him being
carried off the ice, thinking about him being in pain.

“Yeah.” But he smiled. “Probably
hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I don’t like to dwell on it.
Gotta put shit behind you.”

She nodded. “That’s a good attitude, I
guess.”

The server set her glass of wine in
front of her, and Honey flashed a smile of thanks.

She found herself curious to know more
than the bits of information she’d been able to get from newspapers
and the internet, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, she
wasn’t going to push him. She too had things she didn’t want to
talk about, so she totally got what that was like. Only she had a
feeling Matt was better at actually putting things behind him than
she was.

“So.” He tilted his head in that way
that made her breath hitch and her insides do a little flip. “Tell
me what you’ve got planned for me.”

*

Yeah, Matt knew what kinds of plans he
wanted her to have for him. But somehow he doubted her plans
involved whips, chains, handcuffs or even just a lap dance. He
shifted in his chair.

“Well, after looking through the
foundation’s portfolio and doing some research, I have a few
ideas.”

Business. Sure. That was what he
wanted.

Christ, getting dirty ideas about
Honey Holbrook was not a good idea. The things his friends had said
yesterday about her had pissed him off, but had also served as an
eye-opening reminder of the reputation she still had.

Shit. That stunk worse than his hockey
equipment after a game.

He watched her sitting there, looking
sweet and clean, with glowy skin and pale, shiny lips, hair smooth
to her shoulders, talking all earnestly about corporate donors and
funding research into children’s illnesses. She was trying so hard,
it made his chest clench. How long were people going to judge her
on her past?

Probably forever.

That fucking sucked donkey
balls.

“Matt?”

He blinked at her. “What?”

She stared back at him. “Weren’t you
listening?”

“Nope,” honesty compelled him to
admit. No point in bullshitting. “I was distracted by your
beauty.”

Color washed up into her face, making
her even prettier. But then her eyes took on an angry glint. “Don’t
bullshit me,” she muttered.

His mouth fell open. He’d resorted to
complete, unadulterated truth, and she accused him of lying. He
frowned. “Uh. That
was
the truth.”

Her lips thinned. “Come on, don’t
screw around with me. This is serious.”

“I know, Honey. Give me a break. I’m a
guy, and you’re a gorgeous woman and I can’t help but
notice.”

“Oh please. Men are perfectly capable
of carrying on intelligent conversations with women. Your dick
doesn’t control your brain, despite popular opinion to the
contrary. Men just use that as an excuse for bad behavior, like
you’re sex-crazed animals or something.”

He laughed. He leaned forward, elbows
on the table, fingers loosely holding his wine glass. “Well. I
wouldn’t call myself sex-crazed, but…there is some truth to that
theory about men being controlled by their dicks. When we see a hot
chick, our brains produce dopamine and…and some other chemical that
makes us feel good.” Damned if he could remember the name of it,
but whatever. “It affects how our brains process information.
Sometimes we do stupid things because we’re flooded with those
feel-good hormones that we get when faced with…” He waved a hand
toward her with an up-and-down motion.

Her lips twitched. “Uh-huh. Well,
maybe you need to learn to use the big sex organ between
your ears so you can control the smaller one between your
legs.”

He jerked his chin down with affront.
“You did not just call my dick small.”

It was her turn to laugh. “The
ultimate male insult. I apologize. That wasn’t what I meant. I know
perfectly well how…big…” She stopped and blinked at him as if the
words had started coming out before she’d thought that all
through.

His mouth widened into a grin again.
“Uh-huh,” he said encouragingly. “You know perfectly well how
big…what?”

Her cheeks got that rosy flush again.
Her mouth twitched again too, and then she lifted her chin. “Fine.
I’ll say it. I know perfectly well how big the sex organ between
your legs is.”

Fuck, no, she didn’t, because it was
getting bigger by the second. Bigger and harder. He
winced.

Their eyes met and he got the feeling
maybe she
did
know what was going on with his dick. The air
around them became hot and thick, making breathing difficult. Their
eyes connected with a magnetic force that made it impossible to
look away. Her tongue came out in a quick swipe over her bottom
lip, and a sharp bolt of need shot straight to his balls. They
continued to stare at each other as if they were both in a
trance.

He felt like his entire body was
pulsing.

Oh wow. This wasn’t over between them.
No way could he ignore the way the air buzzed, the way tension
hummed around them, the need for her that surged through his
body.

“So I was thinking the option that
would do the most good and give us the most exposure for you and
the team would be working with Franklin Middle School.”

He tried to take in the words, heat
still throbbing through his veins straight to his groin. The fact
that he was proving his own point wasn’t lost on him, the hormones
racing through his bloodstream actually making it difficult to
process her words. What? She was back on fucking business? And he
was ready to grab her and throw her over his shoulder and carry her
out of the bar.

“Need a minute,” he muttered, setting
down his glass and shoving his chair back. He rose and strode
across the bar toward the bathrooms. He was probably walking funny,
his dick so hard it hurt. He just needed to get away from her for a
minute. She was making him fucking nuts.

In the bathroom, luckily alone, he
paused with a hand flat on the wall, head bowed. Think of something
else. Okay. Okay. The hospital. The neck brace. The
pain.

Not that he liked to relive those
days, but hell, it was working. Remembering the fear and agony was
enough to deflate the most determined hard-on.

Honey. Goddamn her.

They’d been having a fun conversation,
a little flirting, a lot of sexual tension. Fuck yeah, he knew it
was a bad idea, but he had not been wrong when he’d said that
hormones could mess with a dude’s thinking process.

And…it was
Honey
.

Sure, people could cut her down and
roll their eyes at her because of her reputation and the things
she’d done, but sure as hell, ninety-eight percent of guys sitting
across the table from her would be having the same problem he had.
Because she was the shit. Smoking-hot body, gorgeous face and
goddammit, a smart mouth. Which strangely turned him on most of
all.

He sucked in a long breath and lifted
his head to look at the ceiling.

Okay. What the hell was he supposed to
do?

He wanted her. There was no getting
around that. But there were probably a million reasons why that was
a bad idea. Did he even have to go through them all? First, their
history together. Second, her dad. Third, they were supposed to be
working together. And then there was her reputation and what people
already thought of her. He did not need that kind of attention in
his life when he was trying so hard to come back from injury and
prove he could still play. He also did not need the distraction of
a hot chick when he needed to focus on his career. And then there
was her dad…oh yeah, he’d already listed that one.

Fuck.

Okay. Just like she’d told him, he
needed to use his big head here. He did not have to be driven by
hormones. He could work with Honey and keep it all
businesslike.

He returned to the table, watching her
sitting there as he crossed the bar. Her silky blonde hair hung
forward, her head bent as she scrolled through something on her
phone.

“Sorry,” he said as he dropped back
into his seat. “So where were we?”

She turned those beautiful brown eyes
on him and sweat popped out beneath his T-shirt. “Franklin Middle
School,” she said in her soft, husky voice that was like fingers
stroking over his balls.

Christ, he was lost.

“I think we need another drink,” he
said hoarsely, tossing back the last of his wine and looking around
for the server. “Maybe tequila shots.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“Kidding,” he muttered. “Sort of.” He
lifted a hand and the girl who’d served them earlier hustled over
with a flirty smile. He ordered another glass of wine for Honey
even though she protested, and a beer for himself.

“Okay, business,” he said.

“This school has students who are of
diverse ethnicity from economically challenged neighborhoods. Boys
and girls can be involved. We use the game of hockey as a catalyst
to attract youth to a program offering support for education,
self-esteem building and life-skills training.”

He forced himself to focus on what she
was saying.

“I’m sorry, but you still seem
distracted,” she said a while later. “Do you want me to put this
all in an email to you?”