Winning Streak (10 page)

He'd sat through her mini-speech with a half-smile but fought to stay serious like he was trying extra hard to follow along. When she finished and took a breath, his earnest, adoring look almost stole it away again. He wasn't the first guy to look at her like that, but this was the first time she didn't get that tiny stab of guilt for not feeling the same way. It was replaced by a touch of fear that for once she might have found something she didn't want to lose.

Madden laced his fingers through hers and squeezed. “I know what you mean. This is something, and I don't want to do anything to mess it up either. What if you come over my place, and we keep it PG? Maybe PG-13.”

Easier said than done when R-rated images conga-ed through her brain every time she looked at him. “It's getting kind of late, but—wait. You live with Cole, right?”

He froze for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, uh, it's okay because I kind of … told him.” The puppy-waiting-to-be-hit-by-a-newspaper expression was the only thing that saved him. That and the fact that she hadn't entirely kept quiet, either.

“You told him? How much does he know? God, he's not going to tell my brother, is he?”

“No, no. Cole is cool. He knows we're lying low for now. He's even the one who suggested I bring you over. He offered to go out for the night when or if you ever wanted to.”

“Oh … ” It still didn't feel great knowing the captain of the team was aware of their relationship, but he did seem trustworthy from what she'd heard about him. “Well, in the interest of full disclosure, Allie knows.”

His eyes bugged briefly. “She—okay. All right. I guess a sister-in-law slash psychiatrist is the best person to trust with something like this. But are you sure
she
won't tell your brother? Y'know, pillow talk?”

“Ummm, no. Allie won't tell him. Especially not in bed, and give me a minute to get
that
image out of my head, thank you very much. It would kind of kill the mood if my brother went tomato red and shot through the roof. Al doesn't want to deal with that, and when the time comes, she can plead ignorance.”

“When the time comes. So you can see telling your brother about us?” The hopeful note in his voice struck a chord in her heart, but the mental picture of her brother losing his shit sort of rained on the moment.

“Maybe.”

He seemed to know not to push anymore and nodded. “It is getting late, and we do have to work tomorrow. How about Friday? My place for a night of good, clean fun?”

“Good and clean are in Madden Vaughn's vocabulary?”

“They are for you.”

Hard to say no to that.

Thursday, March 6th

Saralynn spun around in her desk chair. For circulation, not because it was a fun way to break up the day. Besides, she had only a minute before the next player came in. She'd been sitting since one in the afternoon, and it was almost five. Whose brilliant idea had it been to spice up the in-house player trading cards? Oh right. Hers. Not that it was all bad. She'd gotten a few interesting answers to the most popular questions submitted from Sinners fans. For example, Ben Collier wore neither boxers nor briefs. Holding eye contact through
that
interview had been damn near impossible, but she'd managed.

The whole day had been one long Russian roulette as she waited for Cole to appear. The impending awkwardness hung over her like a clingy storm cloud. She'd have to be professional and straight-faced in front of the guy who knew she was secretly rendezvousing with the boss's brother. Second on the trepidation list was seeing her own brother, the human polygraph. Sure, she'd kept things from him in the past, but that worked better with a few thousand miles between them.

Cole came in first. The Sinners captain eased the door closed behind him and looked around the office, glancing at her quickly then focusing on the Sinbad mascot Bobblehead on her desk. The poor guy looked more nervous than she was.

“Okay, this is silly. I know you know about Madden and me, and yes, we'd like to keep it under wraps, but there's no reason things should be weird here. I can't imagine what you might have heard from Reese. I'd like to say it's not true, but it probably is. Or was.” All cards on the table up front. Not her usual style in the past, but new leaf, new tactics.

Cole took the chair facing her desk and slumped back with a sigh. “It's good to hear that. I wasn't sure what to say or how to act. Mad's like a brother. He's a good guy. And the whole thing with Linden really messed him up.”

“I know.” That now-familiar ache at what that woman put him through set in. But a small part of her worried she might be no better. “Shall we get started?”

“Shoot.”

“All right. First up: what scares you?” Her fingers hovered over the computer keys, and she stared at the screen. And stared. A glance at him revealed downcast eyes. “It can't be that bad. Trust me. Colly's afraid of ladybugs.”

That got a smile. “Yeah? Okay, clowns. Went to a haunted house when I was five. The whole time you hear that high, insane laugh. Get to the end, think you're home free, and a clown jumps out with a chainsaw and blood dripping from his mouth. Well, fake blood, I guess.”

“Jesus. Now I'm afraid of clowns. Moving on. Okay, this one's better. Guilty pleasure?”

“I don't think you should feel guilty about the things you like, but if we're going by what the guys rag on me for, I listen to Aretha Franklin before games.”

“R-e-s-p-e-c-t. Don't have to defend that to me.”

“It was playing in the rink before my first peewee game. Got a hat trick in the first period.”

Her fingers paused over the keys, and she blinked at him. “Whoa.” The whole world knew Cole was a phenom, but that was one story she'd never heard.

He shrugged and picked at the knee of his jeans.

“Boxers or briefs?”

“Uh, boxers. People really want to know this about us?”

“The fans who typically answer our surveys are women, and you bet they do. That's why the pictures on these cards will be shirtless. Are you okay with that?”

“I'm not embarrassed or anything, I just don't see what it has to do with hockey.”

“Not a thing. It's more about growing the fan base and hitting an untapped market. If games are the only place these cards are available, more women will buy tickets. The dance team appeals to the male demographic. This one's for the ladies.”

“Hockey's not good enough?”

Clearly, for him it was, and that shot him up another 100 points on the endearing scale. “Sadly, no. Not in a desert state. But I might be out of a job if it were. Think of it this way. The cards get them in the door; the hockey makes them come back.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I guess that's okay.”

“Two more questions. What's your perfect date?”

“I'd want to do whatever she's passionate about. Like my girlfriend now, she's a singer. For our first date, we went to karaoke. I wanted to see her in her element, doing what she loves. That confidence is really sexy, and you know she's having a good time.”

“Excellent. Last one. Describe your perfect woman.”

“That's easy. She'd have to be driven, with goals of her own, but still know how to have fun. She would need to understand my busy schedule and trust that if I'm with her, I'm not with anyone else. I just want to be with someone who gets me, and there's no pretending.” It was so honest. The other guys gave mostly stock answers like being nice or having a sense of humor.

“Thanks, Cole. You can send Reese in on your way out.”

“No problem. Oh, and uh, I'm staying at Tricia's tomorrow night, so you don't have to worry about … anything.” Annnd the awkward was back.

“Oh, okay.”

He waved and slipped out the door. She had three seconds to decompress before her brother swung in and sat across from her, looking wary. “You're not dating Cole, are you?”

“
No
. I told you. A guy from the radio station. We're here to talk about you anyway.”

He didn't disagree, but it wasn't over.

“Let's just get through this, and then we can both go home. First question. What scares you?”

“Nothing.”

“Ummm, I call bullshit. I grew up with you, remember?”

“Okay.
Twilight
.”

Or the dark. The man had slept with a nightlight at least until he left home in his early teens. But he'd never admit to that now, and she did want to get home. “Fine. Guilty pleasure?”

“Bubble baths.”

“Seriously?”

“With my wife.”

Gag. Oh God. The next question stuck in her throat. She cringed. “Boxers or briefs?”

“Boxer-briefs. Just enough support and—”

“Got it. That's enough.” She squeezed her eyes closed as she typed the answer then moved along. “Perfect date?”

“Staying in to eat pizza, play video games, and catch some hockey on TV.” His glazed eyes and satisfied smirk meant that date actually happened. Had to have been with Allie because no other woman could have known her brother so well.

“Okay. Perfect woman?”

“My wife. She knows me better than I do, she's always there when I need her, and I couldn't imagine spending my life with anyone else. She opened me up and showed me everything I didn't know I was missing.”

Saralynn stopped typing halfway through his answer. The words settled deep. Madden was starting to do all those things for her. She couldn't imagine the rest of her life at the moment, but the snapshot she could see had him in it. Front and center. “That's really sweet. I couldn't have picked someone better for you. Oh wait. I did pick her.”

“Still trying to take credit.”

“Only when I deserve it. All right, we're done. Go home to Allie. I'll go home to my TV and a pizza.”

His expression softened, and as he stood, he leaned over the desk to peck her forehead. “You really are growing up. I'm proud of you, Sare.” He paused in the doorway and pointed at her. “Doesn't mean I won't background check your boyfriends.”

She balled up a Post-it note and pitched it at his chest. Score! He grunted and left. Reruns of
Grey's Anatomy
might be keeping her company tonight, but tomorrow, it'd be a tall, handsome executive who wanted to cook her dinner. The image of Madden in an apron was good. The image of Madden in
just
an apron wasn't far behind. Okay. Cold shower, then call for that pizza.

Friday, March 7th

“You never told me you lived in the Playboy Mansion.”

“There are a lot of perks to this place. Not the least of which is a custom-made pool table in the game room that we'll get to later. But you'll notice the lack of bunnies. I'm a one-rabbit kind of man.” Madden shut the door behind Saralynn as she stepped into the foyer and stared up at the crystal chandelier. While she admired her view, he admired his. No heels tonight but strappy wedges that still brought her to just under his chin.

“Oh yeah? Word is, you've had your share of hares.” She turned that glowing smile on him.

“But never more than one at a time.”

Her eyebrows arched, and she nodded as if impressed. She tilted her head up, breathed deep through her nose, then hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. “Something smells amazing. Jeeves in there?”

“Very funny. No butler, though we do have a cleaning service that comes once a week. I do the cooking.”

“You cook?”

“I'll choose not to be wounded by your shock. Go check it out.”

She gave him a playfully dubious look then wandered down the hall. He almost ran into her back, she stopped so short. “You did this? All this? No catering or takeout?” She circled the island, peeking and prodding at the platters of meatloaf, red smashed potatoes, green beans, corn, and rolls.

“A little wounded now. And yeah, this is all me. Come on, it's not that fancy.”

“I'm sorry; I shouldn't be surprised. Even Reese picked up some recipes from Ma and Grams. I've personally never seen them put into practice, but Allie tells me he's cooked for her. I'm counting it as a myth until I witness it myself.”

“You know, Jace used to do most of the cooking, even as a preteen. When I got old enough, I took over. It was one small thing I could do to pay her back. She wasn't used to someone else taking care of her, and the look on her face when I'd make dinner was worth it.”

Saralynn had that expression again. The one of pity, concern, and caring rolled together that made him regret divulging this stuff. How attractive could it be to talk about his sister on every date? He didn't mean to, but when he let his walls down, it just came out. And Saralynn was a giant wrecking ball to his normally carefully guarded fortress.

She crossed back to him and picked up his hand. “Well, this looks really good. We're talking big brownie points. I might let you beat me in pool. That's a lie. I'm totally going to kick your ass, but the dinner does mean a lot.”

He laughed, and the knot of uncertainty loosened in his chest. “Big talk. Better hope you can back that up.”

“Or what?”

“Or I might not let you beat me at pool.”

“Bring it on. I don't need your charity. I can take you just fine without it.” She wiggled her brows then spun around and filled a plate with more food than he
and
Cole could possibly eat. In a week.

“Planning on a doggy bag?”

“Huh? Oh. No, I'm just hungry. Sorry. Are you used to dating models who fill up on a few spinach leaves?”

“Uh … ” In a way. Maybe not that extreme, but most women didn't usually order much on dates. It was a refreshing change. “No, I like a woman who eats. It's just for us, so take as much as you want.”