Winning Streak (2 page)

Their father had left the Sinners to Jacey—honestly, a smart move on his part—and she ran the team with a manicured, platinum fist. As assistant GM, he had responsibilities, but only one that had potential to damage the team: Keep a clean public image. She'd repeated it so many times, she'd threatened a forehead tattoo as the next step. And he'd been good. For two years. But sometimes the universe conspired to obliterate your best intentions. It might have had some help from a few beers. And unlike the tourists, what happened to
him
in Vegas got reported directly to his sister.

Feeling a little more human, or at least a solid seventy percent sure he wouldn't lose his gourmet breakfast, he key-fobbed into the building. Down the hall, muted whistles, shouts, and frantic skates echoed from the other side of the locker room. Thank God for the silent and dim elevator. It opened at the executive level with a new rush of light and sound that made the room spin for a second. He blinked hard then made for his office, head down. He reached for the knob, but Jacey's hand caught his and held on.

“Not so fast, Maddie.”

He glanced around, but no one seemed to have heard the embarrassing nickname. “Not in public, remember?”

“Funny. I think I said the same thing to you about being an ass. And yet … ”

“I swear. Last night wasn't my fault—”

“Uh-uh. Save it. I don't have time for a speech today so I'm delegating.”

“You're … what?” Sure, their father had chimed in occasionally, but Jacey'd had sole responsibility for lecturing him his entire life. To be fair, he'd given her plenty of opportunities, but that was in the past. Well, until about twelve hours ago.

Then the important part of her statement came back to him. Horror turned his skin clammy as he imagined his brother-in-law and the acting GM having to wring him out to dry. Metaphorically, even though the guy could do serious physical damage as the ex-captain of the team. Madden tried to swallow, but his throat wouldn't cooperate. “Come on, Sis. Carter doesn't have to—”

“Not Carter.” Jacey tugged him into the office across the hall, where Saralynn Reese, the new head of Sinners PR, stood behind her desk looking like sex in a suit. With a scowl.
Oh damn.

• • •

She'd been expecting him, so at least he was the only one with dumb surprise on his chiseled, boy-band face. It lacked its usual luster, the confident glow replaced with sallow pallor. He wore sunglasses, but Saralynn would bet the twinkle in his blue eyes was currently downgraded to a faint twinge.

Jacey pushed him forward and raised a hand as if to say,
He's all yours; good luck.
Then she left the room and closed the door. Madden stood behind the chair opposite the desk and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Look, I don't know what my sister told you, but I—”

“Oh, I didn't hear about it from Jacey.” She let that sink in. It took a second, but then his face crumpled, and he palmed his forehead. She smiled. “You were at my
brother's
bachelor party. You think we don't talk? I got drunk dialed last night.” Her brother, the team goalie, had actually met his match, and the wedding was on Saturday. As if she didn't have enough to do getting ready for
that,
now she got to deal with Madden, the PR nightmare. From the day she got the job, she'd known it was only a matter of time, but couldn't he have waited one more week?

He pulled the chair behind him and slumped into it, cradling his head in both hands. Big, pale fingers, pink at the knuckles, dug into strawberry blond spikes, and sympathy pricked at her heart. Even if the giant oaf brought this trouble on himself.

She eased into her own chair and crossed her legs. “I'm missing some details, though, which is what I need from you. Reese only remembered the highlights.” Some thought it strange she called her brother by their last name, but goalies were strange, and everyone here knew that. Skipping the explanations was one of the many perks of this job.

Madden raised his head slowly and took off the shades. How 'bout that? Even bloodshot, those gray-blue eyes managed to twinkle. “You mean I'm not here to get my ass handed to me?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to fight a grin at the image of his ass. She'd seen it around the arena now and then, and a fine one it was. Unfortunately, it wasn't the topic of their first actual conversation. “What am I, your guardian? My job is damage control. This isn't the principal's office.”

A frown accentuated his full lower lip. “Then I don't understand. Last night was one of my worst personally, but I don't see what that has to do with the—”

She dropped the day's issue of
The Las Vegas Sun
on her desk, specifically the local section. His eyes widened as he stared at a picture of himself on hands and knees just inside the chapel doors and the headline above the fold.
Sinners' assistant GM crashes ex's wedding,
by Linden East.

“Jesus. The photographer wasn't aimed at me. I remember that.”

“Came from a cell phone. I'm guessing on the bride's side. I need you to help me downgrade this from a tornado to a thunderstorm.”

He sighed. “Yeah. All right. What do you need?”

“Reese says you were with the group most of the night. You'd seen the jousting show and drank yourselves stupid at Octane. Things were winding down, and guys started to beg off. He says he didn't actually see you leave the building.”

“I didn't leave, and I was only half drunk. The other half came later.”

“So you half-soberly decided to crash your ex's Knights of the Round Table wedding.”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a long second. “You have any aspirin? I took a couple this morning, but I don't think it was enough.”

She held her tongue, dug a bottle out of her top drawer, and slid it to him.

He downed two and slid it back. “Thanks. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess not anything. I saw the announcement in the paper last week and tried to forget it. But then Reese's bachelor party was in the same building.” He gave a quick recount of the rest of the night, ending with, “Cole held my coffee while I made an ass of myself.”

Thank God for small favors.
If Cole's face had been in the paper, too, her job would be double hard.

“So … Jace is pretty pissed, huh? She probably thinks I'm an idiot for going anywhere near Linden again.”

That twinge of sympathy in her chest got a little bigger. Madden, the one person on earth who was a bigger flirt than even she used to be, seemed to genuinely care about Linden, the bitter reporter who not too long ago put him and the whole team through a media circus. “Sisters understand brothers being stupid about girls. Trust me. If she's pissed, it's probably because Linden insinuated you were gambling last night. She said when you crashed in, some chips fell out of your pocket.”

Saralynn might as well have slapped him. Shock clouded his face, and he reached a new shade of pale just before the hurt took over. It was there and gone in seconds as he shut down. “I didn't gamble. Do you need anything else?”

An explanation would be good, but he clearly was no longer in a mood to cooperate. She lifted her chin. “I'll let you know.”

He pushed out of the chair and left her office. Instead of going to his, he headed back toward the elevator. Saralynn closed her eyes and whispered, “Not my problem. Not my problem.” Her list was big enough.

Friday, February 21st

Alize at the top of the Palms should've seemed huge for a restaurant that could seat 130 and currently held only the nineteen people that made up the Reese bridal party. Instead, it felt microscopic as he sat across from his sister, who looked anywhere but at him. Madden pushed roasted tomato slices and mashed potatoes around the rib eye on his plate. It all looked good, but he couldn't eat. Jacey hadn't answered his call the night before and hadn't looked him in the eye all day.

No one seemed to notice the rift, but that was probably because his sister was a master at hiding her problems. If he hadn't spent his whole life watching her play Supergirl, he might not have noticed either. But he'd also had a lifetime's experience of seeing her disappointed, so the subtle signs were clear. Sure, she'd said a word or two to him when it was necessary, but not otherwise. She took every opportunity to be at least ten feet away, and when he'd tried to talk to her after the ceremony run-through, she'd suddenly had to use the restroom.

It was Reese and Allie's night, and Jacey wouldn't do anything to compromise it. But this felt like more than that. Like she'd be avoiding him for a while. He leaned over his plate and lowered his voice below the background conversation. “Jace … ”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye for a nanosecond then back to the head of the table where Allie's father was clinking his glass with a spoon. The room fell quiet, and Madden sat back, swallowing a sigh. It was not the time or place, but having Jacey disappointed in him
again
sat like a concrete block on his chest.

“I want to thank you all for celebrating with us. For a while, I wasn't sure my headstrong daughter would find someone she deemed worthy. But after getting to know Shane over the past year, I know she has. I'd like to go around the table and let everyone offer a few words to the couple. To Allie and Shane.”

Everyone raised their glasses and drank, then they started with the speeches. Madden didn't mean to, but he kind of blanked out, watching his sister and willing her to acknowledge him. When she did, it was with annoyance. A small elbow jabbed him in the side. Saralynn. He frowned at her, but then it sunk in. The whole table was looking at him. Oops.

“Oh, sorry. Uh, Reese, you've become like another brother to me over the past couple years. You're a good guy, a good friend, and you deserve the best. And you found that in Allie. Seriously, does anyone know someone else who could put up with him? Hold on to her.” Laughs and knowing looks all around eased some of the embarrassment, and Madden took a sip of water.

• • •

Perfect toast or not, Madden Vaughn was somewhere else. He lacked his usual finesse and was staring holes in Jacey. They must not have worked things out. Saralynn resisted the crazy urge to put a comforting hand on his arm and instead focused on her brother and her sister-to-be. “You looked out for me my whole life, big brother. I never thought a lot about love until I watched you fall for Allie. She brought out the best in you, and it made me want better for myself. Oh, and as far as your unofficial first date goes, you're welcome. To a lifetime of happiness.”

Everyone laughed, raised glasses, and continued the speeches. She tried to listen, but for the life of her, she couldn't stop watching Madden fidget with his silverware. He
really
could not stand to be at odds with his sister. Yeah, the few times her sisters, Sophie and Shiloh, wouldn't talk to her had been pretty miserable. Still. She couldn't remember ever wanting to comfort a
guy
. She'd always been the comfortee and usually as a means to get something.

After the final speech and applause, conversation picked back up as people finished their entrees. She poked Madden's foot with the toe of her pump, then cocked her head toward the door. Without waiting to see if he got the hint, she pushed her chair back and slipped into the hallway. Seconds ticked by, and she folded her arms and leaned against the wall. Those signals were universal, right?

The door opened, and he strode to her with a raised brow. Then he flashed that trademark smile, even if it was missing some wattage. “Was that code for ‘Let's make out'?”

She rolled her eyes and dropped her arms. “You are not that dumb.”

“So, no.”

“
No
. I just wanted to talk to you because … it looks like you haven't talked to your sister.”

“And you can't bear to see me upset? Saralynn, I'm shocked. You don't have a rep for being the nurturing type.”

Her lips parted and scorching comebacks just begged for release, but she held them in check. No, she hadn't been known for caring about feelings. Honestly, it was a surprising plot twist for her, too, but she
did
care about his for some reason. He had this talent for drawing people in, and apparently sharing that talent didn't make one immune to it.

At least his feelings weren't the only reason she'd brought him out there. “Your relationship with Jacey is your business. It matters to me because I have to release a statement no later than Monday addressing that reporter's accusation against you. You said you didn't gamble. I need a little more than that.”

The hard line of his jaw tightened, and he glanced through the windowed door at the party. “And you think now is a good time?”

“No, I don't. But you didn't come back to the office yesterday, and tomorrow will be an even worse time, and I don't have your cell number. Just a short explanation. Throw me a bone here.”

Mischief tinted his eyes, and she cut him off with an accusing finger. “If you make one boner joke, you'll be wearing my crème brûlée by the end of the night.”

“Jeez, lighten up.” He lifted his palms in surrender but amusement remained on his face.

Lighten up.
She'd never been on the receiving end of that before. Just how much
had
this job changed her? No time to worry about it now. “Look, my job is to protect you—the team. To protect the team. Please don't complicate my life.”
Any more than you already have.

His amusement turned thoughtful and sort of sweet, which was somehow worse. She squirmed inside, and she
never
squirmed. She used to be the squirm inducer. What the hell?

“Do you want my number?”

The notched-up smartass had pushed her last button. She set her hands on her hips so she wouldn't lunge for his throat.