Playing for Hearts (26 page)
He scooped her up in his arms and whispered, “Our home is here in Cottage Grove, where Grayson Schyler Street meets Shauna Marino Avenue.”
Top Selling Romance Author Debra Kayn lives with her family in the beautiful coastal mountains of Oregon on a hobby farm. She enjoys riding motorcycles, gardening, playing tennis, and fishing. A huge animal lover, she always has a dog under her desk when she writes and chickens standing at the front door looking for a treat. She's famous in her family for teaching a 270 lb. hog named Harley to jog with her every morning.
Her love of family ties and laughter makes her a natural to write heartwarming contemporary stories to the delight of her readers. Oh, let's cut to the chase. She loves to write aboutÂ
REAL MEN
and theÂ
WOMEN
 who love them.
When Debra was nineteen years old, a man kissed her without introducing himself. When they finally came up for air, the first words out of his mouth were ⦠“Will you have my babies?” Considering Debra's weakness for a sexy, badass man who is strong enough to survive her attitude, she said yes. A quick wedding at the House of Amour and four babies later, she's living her own romance book.
You can visit Debra's website at
www.debrakayn.com
Follow her on Twitter at
www.twitter.com/DebraKayn
Like her Facebook Page at
www.facebook.com/DebraKaynFanPage
Playing for Hearts Book Two
Debra Kayn, author of
Breathing His Air
and
Wildly
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 2013 by Debra Kayn.
ISBN 10: 1-4405-6649-6
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6649-3
eISBN 10: 1-4405-6650-X
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6650-9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123rf.com; istockphoto.com/hexvivo and DenisPepin
Wheels â After all these years, we finally have our “thing.” Other people have their song, their anniversary, their moment that they share together. We have our thing. I love our thing. No one else can have our thing.
Chapter One
If
Stan Dogger raised his voice any louder, Diana Spenner was going to scream. It was bad enough he decided to call her out on her last hour of working before her two weeks of vacation started, but she had no desire to tell the hotel owner the real reason she wanted to continue working and skip her down time.
Except she had a little thing called a temper, and Mr. Dogger had used his quota of bossiness for the day. She clamped her lips.
Let it go, let it go â¦
“You're going to die of a heart attack if you keep working every day without a break.” Mr. Dogger fisted his hands on his waist.
Oh, now he was just being ridiculous. “I'm twenty-four. I'm not going to keel over because I like working a forty-hour week. Besides, I already promised I'd take a couple of weeks off in the spring, before tourist season starts.” She smiled extra wide, hoping against the odds he'd change his mind.
“That's six months away,” he said.
“Come on, Mr. Dogger.” She lowered her voice and stepped closer. “Admit it. You need me here. You don't want to cover for me. Mrs. Dogger wants to take you to Napa Valley for a week. It'd be the perfect time to get away, enjoy the sunshine, drink some wine, and buy your wife those fancy red heels she's eyed at Sallie's Shoes.”
His bushy gray brows lowered. “I've known you since you were a little girl. Don't be using my wife against me. If I hear you've conspired behind my back with Adele, I'll fire you. Now, go home!”
She scoffed. “Fine. I expect you to call me if things get too hectic. I'll even fill in for one of the servers in the lounge if anyone calls in sick.”
As the hotel manager, she usually oversaw the front desk, scheduled the other employees, and made sure the guests were enjoying their stay without any complaints. But, she wasn't going to turn down extra work if she could convince Mr. Dogger to fit her in elsewhere at the hotel. With tourist season upon them, he could use the extra help.
“Get out of here.” He pointed to the doorway. “Go. Not another word.”
Discouraged, she gathered her laptop and fled the office. She'd counted on working the extra hours and taking her vacation pay at the same time. The money from earning double time wages would've set her a month ahead of schedule on her dream of purchasing the old Ferriday place. That'd move her next goal of opening a bed and breakfast up to next summer. Now she was going to have to wait until December to purchase the house, and hope that no one bought it in the meantime.
Of course, she couldn't tell Mr. Dogger why she wanted to work. Soon, she'd be his only competition in the small valley. The less people knew of her plans, the better.
She wasn't going to let anyone talk her out of doing what she wanted. One word about her decision to spend her savings, and her parents would do whatever they could to discourage her. That's why she'd deposited her money at the Cottage Grove Credit Union, and not her father's bank across the street. She even refused to mention a word about her dreams to her best friends, Shauna and Kate, and she usually never kept anything secret from them.
A woman's loud scream came from behind her. She whirled around and barely jumped out of the way of three women running toward the lobby. Clutching her laptop to her chest, she gazed after them. Something exciting must have happened in the otherwise quiet town.
She followed them at a slower pace, arriving in the front of the hotel to find a packed room. She studied the area, and frowned. It seemed every woman staying at the hotel had gathered in front of her.
The last time she saw this big of a crowd was during the Cottage Grove Fundraiser two months ago when Dominic Chekovsky, a professional hockey player, made an appearance in public. The hair at the back of her neck moved as another woman ran past her to enter the large group congregating in front of the double glass doors. She shivered as a bad feeling came over her, one Shauna would say was a cosmic sign from Jupiter that a major roadblock was headed her way.
Silence swept through the crowd, and the cluster of women parted in what she'd call quiet reverence. She squinted, peering around the shoulders of the women. A ball of foreboding settled under her ribs, followed by a gasp. She refused to call her reaction an adrenaline rush or an attraction that threatened to careen out of control.
She'd barely accepted the reality of seeing the biggest pain in her ass when Dominic Chekovsky strolled across the blue carpet in all his six foot four glory, straight toward her. His blond hair short and swept to the side framed a face women could only call stunning. The angled cheeks, dominant chin, all atop broad shoulders, slim waist, and thick thighs. He really was a nicely sculpted man, until he opened his mouth.
His eyes so light blue, they appeared more ice-like, gave him an intense gaze. A gaze he directed straight at her.
She stood straighter and lifted her chin. A week ago, she'd punched him in the stomach when he wouldn't move out of her way and accept she wasn't interested in dating him. This time, if he refused to take no for an answer, she'd hit him over his hard head with her laptop. Then sue him for damages. She had no interest in dating a professional athlete. Especially one with an ego bigger than the stadium or coliseum or whatever kind of building hockey players played in.
She'd witnessed how women reacted to him. She would never lower herself to scream and claw over anyone, no matter how sexy he was in person.
“Diana. It's so good to see you again.” Dominic stopped in front of her.
“What are you doing here?” She stepped back when the women pressed in on all sides of her.
“I must talk with you.” He ignored the other women. “Maybe somewhere we can be alone without an audience. Please?”
His Russian accent was thick, each word pronounced with emphasis as if he meant to hold his audience captive. She glanced around and rolled her eyes. Each woman crowded around him held their breath, waiting for him to give them each a bit of personal attention.
“It's important, Diana,” he said.
“I don't believe you.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Take your pick, stud. Any one of them would love to spend time with you and listen to what you have to say.”
The crowd vibrated with tension. She fought the urge to tell them all to get a life. It was utterly ridiculous seeing grown women, most of them married, throwing themselves in Dominic's path.
“Shauna told me to tell you it was in your best interest to talk with me.” Dominic inched forward.
She groaned. He knew using Shauna, who'd do anything for Diana, as a pawn would work. Damn him.
Mr. Dogger was going to throw a fit when he hears about the disturbance Dominic was causing in the hotel again. He still hadn't forgiven Dominic for the damage the women caused last time he came to town. Although, the extra money Dominic gave Mr. Dogger for the damage the women caused in their attempt to get to him ended up providing new tables in the lounge.
If Diana took him upstairs to her room at the hotel, the women would follow and never leave the vicinity. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Mr. Dogger would have no other option than to have her continue working after he realized the women would not leave as long as Dominic was here.
“Fine. You can come with me up to my room. Ten minutes. And you're not allowed to ask me out on a date.” She pushed her way through the crowd, letting Dominic find his own way of keeping up with her.
In the elevator, she held her laptop in front of her body as a shield and kept the women from following them inside. Dominic squeezed past her. The doors slid closed, and she pushed the button, sending them up to the next floor, and relaxed.
“Thanks.” Dominic leaned against the wall.
She watched the floor lights climb above the door. “Just so you know, I didn't do this for you. It's for Shauna.”
“You wound me.”
“You'll survive.” She watched the lights climb above the doors. “This is my floor.”
He followed her out of the elevator and down the hall. She shifted the laptop under her arm, and felt Dominic take it from her grasp. Without arguing over being perfectly fine managing on her own, she dug the key out of her pocket.
Most hotels upgraded to card keys years ago, but Mr. Dogger kept the old hotel to the original construction since he bought the place back in the seventies. She was lucky enough to convince him to change over to using computers six months ago to make her job easier.
The elevator pinged the second she swung the door open and the giggles from the women following them pushed her into action. She shoved Dominic inside before locking the door. The rumors of women, all women, being highly attracted to the star were no exaggeration. She'd seen the mobs that followed him, touched him without permission, and how the females threw themselves on him at the fundraiser. Later when she'd hung out with her friends at the Quayside, Dominic had to leave early because the women were causing a scene.
