In the Zone (Portland Storm 5) (8 page)

I wasn’t going to hold my breath over that one, though. He was eight years old and I’d had him since he was a kitten. Some things just weren’t going to change.

Before I succumbed to the desire to sit, a knock sounded at my door. A moment of panic seized me—fleeting, but entirely real—and I nearly decided to pretend I hadn’t heard it. BC had other ideas, though. He let out an excited meow, raced out from under my skirt, and headed straight for the door, which he slammed his head into before pawing at it as though he was trying to dig to China.

I fought the urge to curse at my cat as I crossed over to open the door. Keith was leaning against the doorjamb in dark jeans, a black sweater, and a leather jacket that fit him so well I nearly licked my lips. The next time I saw Tanya, I was going to give her a piece of my mind for putting the idea of
sex on a stick
in my head in regard to this man because I kept thinking about licking him the way I would a popsicle.

“Hi,” he said lazily, but his eyes were anything but lazy as they roved over my whole body. “I thought I said you should wear something comfortable.”

BC crossed the threshold to weave in and out of Keith’s legs, purring loudly.

I fidgeted with my scarf, tugging the long ends down so I could cross it over my belly, as though that could hide anything. “I’ve spent half my life in skirts and shoes like this. Should I go change?” Not that I wanted to delve back into that closet, especially considering it had taken me so long to decide on this to begin with. It was a daunting prospect on a good day.

“No, it’s fine if you’re comfortable.” He bent down, scratched my cat behind his ears, and then grinned up at me. “But you should bring a pair of socks. And your coat. We’ll be outside at least some of the time.”

“Socks?” I repeated, dumbfounded. I may not dress all that fashionably these days, since it was next to impossible to find trendy clothes in my size, but I would never be caught dead wearing socks with my strappy pumps.

“Yeah, socks.” Keith let out a laugh. By this point, my cat was seriously head-butting him, trying to get closer for more attention. Keith picked him up and carried him inside so he could close the door, forcing me to take a few steps back or else he would run me over. As soon as he was in Keith’s arms, BC did his Ragdoll thing and flopped over, playing dead, or as close to it as you could believe with the intense purring coming from him.

“Just trust me,” Keith said. “Get a pair of socks. This little guy and I’ll be fine while we wait.” He made himself at home, heading into the living room and taking a seat on the couch before I could warn him about the cat hair.

Granted, he was already getting covered because BC was writhing all over him like the little attention-whore freak he was. It was too late for me to do anything about it. I went back into my bedroom, grabbed a pair of socks from the bureau and shoved them into my purse, popped into the closet and gave Richie a reassuring rub on his scaredy-cat head, and headed back out to join Keith.

“I think this little guy likes me,” he said without looking up. “Or girl. Whichever.”

BC had one paw planted on each of Keith’s shoulders, his body splayed against Keith’s chest and his head thrown back in blissful surrender to get chin scratches.

“He,” I said. “That’s BC. And I’m sorry. He’s shameless.”

“Nah. He just knows what he wants, and he goes for it. I can appreciate that.” Keith’s gaze settled on me as he spoke, causing my body temperature to rise about fifty degrees, enough that putting on my coat so we could leave was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. He scratched BC’s chin a few more times and then moved my cat off his lap. “You ready to go?”

Sure enough, once he was on his feet, I could see how much cat hair was all over him. I grabbed a lint roller off the counter and handed it to him. “I can be as soon as you’ve used this. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve got dogs. I get it.” Keith used a fresh sheet and rolled it all over his body. I had to force myself to look away or else I would’ve ended up staring.

Instead, I got my coat from the hall closet and shrugged it on.

“I’m guessing I’ve got some on my backside, too, don’t I?” he asked, turning around to show me his butt. Which was, of course, amazing, just like I remembered it. And it was covered in cat hair. “Can you help me out with that?”

Despite the fact that I was practically salivating at the thought of getting close enough to roll that thing over his backside, close enough I could possibly touch him, I shook my head. “I think you can manage that on your own.”

He winked at me and rolled it over his butt and the backs of his thighs a few times before once again turning. “Did I miss anything?”

“Other than my hands on you?” I asked drolly, only to regret it when he started to agree with me. “No,” I added, cutting him off. “I think you’re good.”

He set the roller down where I’d grabbed it from and reached for my hand. “I do miss that. Your hands on me. Your mouth on me. I miss all of that and more.”

My face burned as I took his hand. “You’ve got to stop talking like that.”

“Why? It’s the truth.”

“It was
one night
, Keith.” A very ill-conceived night, at that.

“But now it has the potential to become a hell of a lot more.”

I couldn’t stop myself from trying to shake that off. He didn’t know me. How could he be so sure he wanted there to be
more
?

We headed out into the entryway, and I locked my front door. Then he took me down to his car and helped me in, with me goggling at it the whole time. He drove a two-door Mercedes, silver with a black leather interior. He’d apparently run the seat warmer on the passenger seat on his way to get me because it was warm and toasty when I sat down. His car was so nice that I was almost afraid to touch it. I’d never been in a car like that before.

Heck, I didn’t even
own
a car anymore. Once I’d moved, I’d realized pretty quickly that it cost too much to pay for parking everywhere around here and it was better to use public transportation to get where I needed to go. So I’d sold my old Mazda. Keith didn’t just own a
car
; it was probably the nicest vehicle I’d ever had the privilege of seeing up close, let alone sitting in.

I tried to gather my thoughts while he drove. Yes, I was insanely attracted to him. That didn’t mean that I should do anything stupid like lose my head when I was with him.

I stared out the window on my side, trying not to think about how close we were. Even though the air was brisk today, the sun was shining and there were only a few wispy clouds in the sky way off in the distance. That would help with whatever outdoor activity he had planned.

I lived near Millennium Plaza City Park on the western bank of the Willamette. He drove us across the bridge to the other side of the city. Even though I was searching my mind to figure out where he might be taking me and what he intended for us to do, I couldn’t come up with anything. I hadn’t lived here long enough to know the sorts of places people might go on a date. I didn’t have a clue until he pulled up in front of Oaks Park, at least. But even then, I was confused.

“Aren’t they closed for the winter?” It was an amusement park, full of insanity like Ferris wheels and bumper cars and all sorts of things I hadn’t gotten on or in or even thought about in years.

“The amusement park is,” he said, shutting off the engine. “But the skating rink is open.”

My heart skittered, but he flashed me a sexy-as-hell smile and came around the front of the car to help me out. I put my hand in his and let him lead me inside despite my moment of hesitation. Thank goodness it was roller-skating and not ice-skating. I hadn’t been on ice skates since well before I’d gained all the weight, and frankly, I didn’t know how well my ankles would hold up on those tiny blades. My legs were still relatively strong from dance, but not like they used to be. Besides, skate blades and dancing heels fell into two entirely different categories.

We rented skates and put them on, and he took our coats and my purse to a locker. Before I was ready for it, he took my hand again and was leading me out to the rink.

“Roller-skating,” I mumbled, completely thunderstruck. “You hounded me after that class so you could take me roller-skating?”

Keith turned around to skate backward, reaching for my other hand to help pull me along. There was something about the colorful lights bouncing around the room, and the shimmery flashes coming off the disco ball in the center that made him look almost sinful out there. “This is just part of it. There’s a lot more to come before the night’s over, Brie.”

I laughed, despite myself.
Roller-skating
.

I
T WAS A
rare occurrence that I used my clout as a local sports celebrity to get something that an everyday person might not have access to, but I’d had no qualms about doing it when I was preparing for this date. Obtaining reservations for any of the restaurants along the river when the Christmas Ships Parade was taking place was generally next to impossible. A lot of the restaurants were booked solid more than a year in advance for this annual event. I’d begged and pleaded and used every bit of my minor fame, and even that hadn’t been enough at first. It was only once I’d promised that we would finish our meal and leave before the parade started that I’d found a restaurant to agree to squeeze us in for dinner.

That had been an easy promise for me to make. I didn’t want her to see the ships from behind a pane of glass. I wanted to be right on the bank, where she could really experience it like a local. I’d done that my first year here, and it had been such a uniquely Portland experience that I’d made sure to do it every year since.

I’d come to appreciate the Christmas ships in my time playing with the Storm, especially in the last few years since I’d bought my big house on the river. The parade didn’t come quite far enough for me to watch it from my own balcony, but I always made an effort to find somewhere to watch it when I was in town on a night we didn’t have a game. The parade had become one of
my
holiday traditions as much as it was a Portland tradition.

A couple of years ago I’d invited my surviving brother, Shane, to come out and see it with me. I’d thought that maybe it could help me to build a bridge with him, that maybe we could start to mend fences and other shit like that. He hadn’t come, though. Not that year, or last year, and so far this year he was still telling me he didn’t think he could do it. He said it was work that was keeping him from visiting, but I didn’t buy that for a minute. He didn’t want to spend his holiday with me. Shane didn’t want anything to do with me. That wouldn’t stop me from trying. He was the only brother I had left.

Anyway, it was after no small amount of finagling and cajoling on my part that Brie and I ended up at a swanky French place, surrounded by flowers and candles and soft, classical guitar music playing in the background. The candlelight made her hair gleam like nothing I’d ever seen before. I made a mental note of it so I’d remember it in future. Candlelight and Brie were a match made in heaven.

“If your family lives in Illinois, how did you end up in Providence?” I asked her over my wineglass. We’d already finished eating, but there was still enough time before the parade began that I wasn’t in any big hurry to leave.

She shook her head. “They’re not all in Illinois anymore. My brother lives in Ohio now. But when you’re a dancer, you follow where dancing leads you. I ended up paired with the best partner I’d ever had, and he wanted to go train with one of the ballroom greats who had a studio in Providence. Val wasn’t just the best partner I’d ever had; he was miles better than any of the others. I didn’t want to lose my opportunity to dance with him, so I agreed to move. I’m sure it’s the same with you ending up here in Portland. Or at least similar.”

“Not exactly.”

“You followed the work, didn’t you? You went where the game took you. If you wanted to play at this level, to compete against people who are in the same professional sphere as you are, you had to go where they told you to go.”

“At first, sure. But now I can play where I want to play.”

“And you want to play here because it’s familiar?”

“Something like that.” More because I liked the direction this team was headed. I liked the position I had within the team, being part of the leadership core. I liked that playing here meant that, for much of the year, I could be so far away from the yawning hole I’d created within my family, that I could live with that emptiness all by myself without being surrounded by reminders of it everywhere I turned. I didn’t want to talk about myself, though. Not right now. “You have a sister, too, you said?” I asked. “She still lives near your parents?”

“Oh, yeah, she never had any intention of leaving. Married her high school sweetheart. She teaches second grade, and he’s a mortgage lender at the oldest bank in town. They’ve got a house a few blocks over from Mom and Dad, complete with the minivan, two and a half kids, and the picket fence.”

“Two and a half?”