Playing for Keeps/Body Check (Rules of the Game) (18 page)

"Ok, tie score. Come at me again, Sinclair."

On and on the game went, but in the end, Mia lost, and lost bad. The one goal was all Quinn allowed, and now she thought for sure all that testosterone would go to his head.

Or a direction further south.

"Ok you win. What do you want, I'm your slave,” she said later as they left the ice and untied their skates.

He walked to her and helped her unlace her skates, then she stood and his arms closed around her. His thumb drifted over her cheek, as her throat went dry. She could feel the heavy length of his body pressing lightly against hers.

"All I want is you, Mia mine. Let's go upstairs and finish this game of one on one, ok?"

"Nothing would please me more Rafferty," she whispered, as he led her out of the rink and upstairs where their game would continue all night.

***

She was just about to enter the gift shop to pick up a few souvenirs for the children at St. Michael's when she heard a familiar voice that made her skin crawl.

"Mia."

What the hell was he doing here in Montreal? She clasped her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see her slight tremble.

"Andre."

He had the gall to approach her, and place a tiny kiss on her cheek, a little too close to her lips. He smiled. She wanted to bolt, but decided to stand her ground.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

She blinked and tilted her head back. "Seriously?"

He seemed genuinely surprised. "Well, yes."

She shook her head. "No thanks."

He threw her a disbelieving look, then his eyes changed. There was something in those dark depths that she should have noticed when she was dating him.

Black and cold.

She was just about to turn and walk away when he said, "Rumor has it you're with Rafferty now."

"Oh, it seems hockey players gossip too. And just so you know, who I'm with is none of your business."

"At one time you were my business."

Her face flushed with growing anger. "That’s why we're not together anymore, Andre.
 
I'm no one's 'business.'"

He must have found her anger amusing. He firmly grasped her wrist. "Come on Mia, just one drink for old time's sake."

"Take. Your. Hand. Off. Me. Now."

He released her wrist and drew a hand through his short cropped blond hair. "Look, Mia, I've apologized a hundred times. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can't we be friends?"

"We were never friends, Andre, and if you apologized a million times, we could never be friends. Why don't you call my father, I understand he's your friend."

"Ah, the little ice princess; now the claws come out, eh?"

His French-Canadian accent may have been attractive at one time, now she just found it offensive.

"I don’t know why you're so angry, Mia. You got what you wanted."

Mia struggled to stay calm and took a deep breath. "If it was up to me, you would have been banned from the league for life."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry for what happened."

"Only after I threatened to make a scene if management hadn’t gotten rid of you, and my father only agreed because he had to save face. So don’t give me the 'I'm sorry' story."

He shrugged. Arrogant bastard.

"It all happened for the best anyway. You got the job, and I went home to Toronto."

"Yeah, make sure you stay there." Mia closed her eyes and sighed. "Goodbye, Andre, can't say it hasn't been awful."

Mia exhaled heavily, clutching her hands together after Andre walked away without responding.

That's when she spied Quinn stepping off the elevator.

She had no intention of becoming involved in a confrontation between the two of them and turning into the main attraction on the eleven o'clock version of Sports Scene.

Thankfully, Andre turned from her and walked away, leaving Mia to approach Quinn.

And just looking at him, six foot five inches of firm muscled, handsome, good natured Quinn caused Mia's heart to pound. Blood rushed through her veins, her body doing crazy things.

He caught sight of her, and that sexy smile curved his lips, and Mia believed she could do anything.

Like opening her heart and letting love in.

CHAPTER NINE

After their time spent together in Montreal, Quinn thought it was time to see J. P. and inform the old man that he intended to marry Mia.

He hadn’t asked Mia yet. First things first. He wanted to get things straight with Sinclair first, so he found himself standing in J.P.'s office, hands in his pockets, waiting for the old man to acknowledge his presence.

How the hell did Mia deal with this guy on a daily basis? Quinn had no clue.

"What can I do for you, Rafferty?"

J.P. signaled Quinn to sit across from him. Quinn took a seat and clasped his hands together on his lap.

What he was about to say to the old man hinged on his career, and his life.

"I came to tell you that I'm going to ask Mia to marry me, Sir."

J.P. hesitated a moment, then looked at Quinn. "Really?"

Quinn nodded. "I plan to ask her after the road trip with Chicago. Just wanted to let you know."

"So you're not asking for my blessing, Rafferty. You're just alerting me."

"However you want to take it, Sir. I love Mia, and I want to be with her. What's so bad about that?"

"I don’t know, Rafferty. She didn’t have much of a promising relationship with Andre Goyette, and he wanted to marry her too."

"If you'll excuse me Mr. Sinclair, Goyette's a fucking asshole who abused Mia. I don’t get how you don’t see that."

J.P. shrugged. "So he's got a temper.
 
She's not like her mother. My wife was strong, decisive, where Mia is not quite the leader is she?"

Quinn grasped the arms of the chair to keep him from grabbing J.P. by the neck and choking the life out of him.

"Mia's the smartest, toughest woman I know, Mr. Sinclair."

"She won't marry you, Rafferty. She is still damaged by a relationship she couldn’t maintain. If you were smart, you'd just wait until the season was over, and concentrate on your career."

"Thanks for the advice, but I'm a big boy and I know what I want.
 
I really don’t owe you anything Sir, but I want to give you the respect by telling you I intend to be with Mia and build a life with her, whether you like it or not."

J.P. tilted his head and stood, a signal to Quinn that the meeting was at an end.

"You're not right for her, Rafferty. After all, she's a trust fund baby, grew up with the silver spoon, all that."

"And I'm just a dumb jock, is that it?"

"I didn’t say that."

Quinn shook his head. "You didn’t have to."
And with that, Quinn left the old man's office with one singular thought. He was going to ask Mia to marry him, and the old man could go to hell.

***

Mia answered her front door to the appearance of a young delivery man presenting her with two dozen lavender roses, her favorite.

Her heart pounded as she unpinned the note from the bouquet.
 
No words, just the letter, 'Q'. As if she didn’t know.

Finding a crystal vase, she set the aromatic bouquet in water, then carried them to the bathroom and placed them on her vanity so she could enjoy looking at them while she bathed.

Oh Quinn, you're making me fall for you.

Peeling off her slacks, blazer and camisole, Mia started the water, pouring fragrant lavender beads in the tub for her bubble bath.

While the bath was running, she headed back toward the kitchen for a glass of wine. Armed with that and a high fat candle, she padded back to the bathroom.

Lighting the candle, and inhaling the scent of her roses, she took one fully bloomed blossom from the vase and inhaled deeply.

Dimming the bathroom lights, Mia lightly stepped into the tub, and moaned in pleasure as her muscles began to relax from the hot bath water.

Taking the glass, she took a welcoming sip, and leaned back to enjoy and relish the sensations of the candle, water and wine, easing the stress of the day.

But her mind, once again, strayed to Quinn.

Quinn, once her friend, now her lover.

Quinn, a man who made her feel like no other woman existed in the world.

Quinn, whose powerful muscles could stop a puck at 80 miles an hour, but whose touch could ignite her with a subtle erotic caress from his long calloused fingers.

Closing her eyes and taking another sip of wine, Mia re-lived her last few weeks with him.

The stolen moments they shared, kissing and touching, giving and taking pleasure in each other's body. Quinn's erotic words fueled her blood and made her heart race.

Finishing the last of the wine in her glass, Mia sunk down into the bubbles, spreading them onto her arms and neck.

She knew it was time to face her fear. In the beginning, Andre was also loving, attentive and wonderful to be with. He'd been a good lover, but Mia had always felt there was something missing.

Andre wasn’t the type to cuddle after lovemaking. He'd kiss her quickly, as if to say, 'good job' and leave their bed to shower and get ready for dinner.
 

Andre Goyette was the reason she'd kept Quinn at arms' length. She'd fallen for the tall, blonde right winger almost immediately. He was handsome, sweet and Mia was crazy about his French accent.

In the end, his accent was the only thing that Mia found charming about him.
 
 
 
 
 
 

As the bubbles began to burst in the tub, so did Mia's blind faith in Andre.

The first time he hit her was after a celebratory party when the team won the Division championship.

He'd had too much to drink and when they arrived home and she pointed out that he'd had too much to drink, he pushed her into a wall, and she fell, breaking her ankle.

After that, her ice skating teaching career was over. She was capable of skating, but only for recreation.

Like a fool Mia had forgiven him. Until the next time.

He once accused her of cheating on him with Adam Piersson, the team captain, Mia's friend, and one of the nicest guys she’d ever known.

For that, Andre slapped her across the face.

It was the last time he'd ever hit her.

Calling the police, Andre was taken in, but his rich father, a noted heart surgeon in Canada, posted his bail, and subsequently, Andre was free.

She campaigned to get him suspended permanently from hockey.

Instead, he fled back to Canada, and with his father's assistance, was appointed an office job for the Toronto Timber Wolves.

Mia moved on and found the job with the Thunder, having been hired by her father, and not interested in dating.

Until Quinn.

Mia shivered from thoughts of Quinn or the cold water, she couldn’t say.

Showering off the bubbles, then stepping out of the tub and wrapping herself in a soft, well worn lavender terry cloth robe, she blew out the candles, and stepped from the bathroom and into her bedroom.

Suddenly she wanted to talk to him.

The Thunder played Buffalo in a couple of hours. Maybe she could catch him before he left for the arena. She grabbed her iphone from her bag and speed dialed him.

She got his voice mail, and after leaving him a message, she disconnected, realizing how much she missed him.

Did she have the strength to take a chance with Quinn? Could she move on and forget the past and be happy?

Slipping into Quinn's jersey and settling herself under her soft, warm comforter, she turned off her lamp, but didn’t close her eyes.