Playing for Keeps/Body Check (Rules of the Game) (17 page)

Mia was more than surprised to see her father sitting in her office the next afternoon.

"Hi Dad I don’t have much time. The team is on the ice taking publicity shots for the play off program. What brings you here?"

He wasn’t comfortable, she could tell. He sat forward on the office sofa, his hands clasped, his eyes green shards of glass, and his mouth cut a wide slash in his face.

"That's not a welcoming greeting, Mia."

Her back went up, as it often did when it came to her father. "You rarely come here, so I assume there's something wrong."

He walked to her window, his back to her, one hand in his suit pocket.
 
He turned to face her, his features grim and unsmiling.

"I heard you attended last night's dinner with Rafferty. What's going on, Mia?"

She cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. The man was incorrigible. "Gee Dad, what a surprise; you don’t approve."

Her mouth still ached from Quinn's intense kisses, her body a delicious aching sensation from his love making, her breasts still tender as they rubbed against her lace bra.

"You know what happened last time, with Goyette. I'm just trying to look out for your affairs, Mia.
 
Word is Rafferty enjoys partying and women. I didn’t think he'd be your type."

"Quinn and Andre are as different as fire and ice, Dad. And I'm a big girl now, or haven’t you noticed?"

J. P. never backed down from a confrontation. Mia should have known that by now.

"Well, I heard different. Mia, he's trouble. I don’t want you to have anything to do with him."

"Trouble? He's the best thing that's ever happened to me. He also happens to be a nice guy. Why does it matter to you if I do decide to see him, Dad?

J. P.'s face grew beet red, and Mia realized she'd gone too far. "I told you time and again that I was sorry about what happened with you and Andre.
 
If you hadn’t gotten involved with him, he'd still be with the Thunder."

Now it was Mia's turn to flush with anger. "Too bad he took me for a punching bag, and passed it off as an accident."

Why was it that every time Mia and her father were in the same vicinity, they ended up dropping the gloves?
 
She took a deep breath and touched her father's flushed cheek.

"Look, Dad, I've been trying not to get involved with another hockey player, but Quinn is a good guy. He's been a good friend to me since coming to the team, and he's been nothing but wonderful to me."

"You have to trust me, Dad. Look, you hired me to do a job, and I want to make sure I do my best and people don’t think of me as the boss's daughter.
 
Try to understand, ok? I'm seeing Quinn and that’s all there is to it."
 
 
 
 

He stepped away from her, and her heart dropped.
 
"Look, Mia, I see big things for Rafferty in this team's future. He's an excellent, well trained athlete, and the only reason I condone his behavior off the ice is because he will bring us the championship this year, and that will bring added revenue for the Thunder next season."

"I see a future also for you in our organization Mia, but only if you act appropriately, and that includes leaving Rafferty to do his job and not break his concentration. Do you understand?"

It was no wonder her mother left them when she was twelve, divorcing J. P. when Mia was a teenager.
 
Laura Sinclair lived in Florida with Mia's aunt and seldom heard from her.

"Are you giving me some type of ultimatum?" She staggered back and swallowed hard. "My God, you are, aren’t you?"

"Not yet." He shrugged. "Hockey is a business I've worked my entire life to see success. And if you're going to get caught up in the midst of it, at least you should know the rules."

"Your rules. You can't control lives."

"Oh, watch me."

She wouldn’t let him see her cry. He was a brick wall. Nothing would convince him that she and Quinn together would be a great combination. She wanted her job, she wanted Quinn.

But did she want approval from her father most of all?

***

Montreal, Canada

March 18th
 

The Montreal Forum had always been one of Mia's favorite arenas to watch the game she'd loved since she was a young girl.

Fans still wore suits and ties, women wore dresses and heels. Legend had it that season tickets were left in family wills.

Montreal, the ultimate hockey town. Hockey was to Montreal what baseball was to New York.
 
In the winter, there wasn’t a frozen pond that wasn’t inhabited by boys and girls playing hockey in the tradition of the Canadian citizens.

Taking her seat in the press box, Mia greeted many of her peers, both in English and French.
 

The teams were about to take the ice. Goaltenders usually emerged from the locker room first. Superstition played a huge part in the manner in which players came out onto the ice.
 
The Thunder skated onto the ice one by one.

But her eyes saw only one man.

Quinn.

Carrying thirty pounds of padding, he was still capable of gracefully gliding onto the ice, skating to the visitor's goal, placing his water bottle on top of the net, then turning, and preparing his goal crease, his territory essentially, for the game.

He skated from side to side, spraying ice shavings as he scratched the smooth surface to his satisfaction. Then he seemed to look up into the press box, and find her. She waved, knowing he'd seen her.

Arousal and excitement gripped Mia as she watched him on the ice.
 
After the game, she'd be with him.
 
Have his strength and weight on top of her, welcoming him into her body.
 
Look into those sky blue eyes and know they would give each other what they both needed and wanted.

The referee's whistle summoned the starting lines to center ice that would signal the start of the game.

Mia settled in, ready to enjoy the game.

Later, she'd enjoy her man.

***

Mia was thrilled when three hours later, thanks to great goaltending by Quinn,
 
the Thunder had edged out Montreal 2 -1, to clinch a playoff berth. Mia made her way down to the ice with her publicity team to cover her team's win and watch Montreal sports reporters interview Greg Vail, who scored the winning goal, and Quinn, who made twenty five saves to help preserve the win.

Much had happened over the past few weeks. Quinn had tried not to crowd her, but he couldn’t help it. He was a little highhanded and very much a sexual person.

Mia had never experienced pleasure and passion as she did when she was in Quinn's arms, his bed. She was learning to trust him, need him and craved his touch, his mouth, his body inside her, when they were apart.

Watching him now with the reporters, she loved the way he cared for his teammates, respected him for his tireless charity work with
Families Forever
. Quinn played hard in life, and sport, put unbridled passion into all he loved, including her.

Quinn never did anything by halves.

And like it or not, she was part of his life, his heart.

***

Knowing Mia was waiting for him in their room in the hotel, Quinn stepped off the elevator and took long strides to reach his destination.

Hard, hot and ready, he took his card key from his suit pocket, opened the door, and closed and locked it behind him.

The suite was dark. On the way to the bedroom, he shrugged off his suit jacket, untied his tie and drew it over his head. Unbuckling his belt, he slid it through the loops of his custom made slacks, unzipped his pants, threw them on a couch, pulled off his socks, pulled down his boxer/briefs, and walked in the bedroom, expecting to see her.

She wasn’t there.

Drawing his fingers through his hair, he turned toward the huge bathroom and smelled roses.

Ah, she was in the shower.

And he was going in after her.

He opened the door, was greeted by a cloud of steam, and felt himself grow thicker, seeing Mia through the clear glass of the shower door, naked, wet, and he was ready to devour her.

He slid open the door and she looked up at him and smiled, water sluicing down her face and neck, her breasts jutting out as water hit her nipples and caused them to pebble into hard nubs of arousal.

"Hi."

He closed the shower door and backed her up against the tiles. "Hi."

Those were the only words they shared.

Quinn lifted her like a feather, wrapped her long legs around him as the silver spray assaulted them. Mia's arms enclosed his neck as lifted her higher, then lowered her onto his thick heat.

Kissing her as if his life depended on it, he welcomed her tongue entangling with his, groaning from her taste, her heat, her touch.

He lowered his head, kissed her breasts, sampled them with his tongue as Mia screamed out in pleasure.

Quinn palmed her rear while he stroked in and out of her welcoming flesh, pumping harder and faster until he felt her climax approach.

She came hard, tunneling her hands through his hair and pulling, and it only took a few strokes for Quinn to come.

One, two, three.
 
He exploded and fragmented inside her.

They slid down the shower stall, the water still spraying them as they kissed. Then Quinn took her in his arms, turned off the shower, and carried her to their bed, where they fell asleep instantly.

***

Quinn had previously arranged for the arena lights to be kept on. He and Mia had an ice date.

"Ready for a little one on one?" She wiggled her eyebrows, then stepped out onto the ice.

His lips curved in a wicked smile. "I thought we already did that. But if you insist, let's go back to our room and…"

She playfully pushed him away and skated from him, back skating while he came at her.

"I meant you play goal, I score on you."

"Like I said, baby, I thought we already did that."

Mia couldn’t help but laugh and drift down the ice, teasing him by backing away. He was playful, and she knew if he wanted to catch her, there'd be no contest.

Heading for center ice, Mia swirled in a circle, watching as Quinn headed off toward the locker rooms.

He came back in minutes armed with two sticks, a pair of gloves and a bucket of pucks. Mia watched him as he glided effortlessly to center ice to meet her.

He pressed a full kiss on her mouth, handed her the equipment necessary to play.

"Ok, this stick belongs to Piersson. If you break it, you bought it," he joked, handing her Adam Piersson's right handed stick.

"How about we make this wager a little juicy?" he said, his eyebrows wiggling up and down, making Mia laugh.

"What's going through that dirty little mind of yours, Rafferty?"

"Well," Quinn slid on his mask and gloves, then back skated to the goal with his huge goaltender's stick. "You get twenty shots. Score more than I save, and I'll be your love slave for the rest of the night."
 
He wiggled his eyebrows, making Mia laugh. "But, if I save the majority of the shots, you have to promise to grant one wish for me. Are you brave enough to be daring, Sinclair? What do you say?"

"You have a devious mind, Rafferty.
 
Alright you're on."

Mia knew she didn’t have an ice cube’s chance in hell of beating him, but she took the bucket of pucks to center ice, took one at a time in a line and began.

"Ok, Sinclair, show me what you got."

Quinn crouched in position, defending the goal, his stick on the ice in front of him, waiting for Mia to attack.

She skated in on him the first time, and shot the puck toward him and the net, which he easily kicked away.

"Anyone tell you,  you skate like a girl, Sinclair?"

She shook her head, and positioned another puck on her stick. This time, she turned in a perfect pirouette, faked him out, and the puck slid slowly over the goal line. "Score!"

He laughed. "I'm just being charitable."

"Yeah sure. Afraid to admit that a girl beat you."