Dirty Score (Rough Riders Hockey 3)

Mia tapped his glass, then tipped her champagne back, drinking until it was gone.

Now it was Rafe’s turn to lift a brow. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, set the glass back, then shifted on the seat, curling up real close until her breasts and belly pressed against his arm. Her flat hand slid across his abdomen, and heat flooded south.

Rafe put his own champagne away before he spilled it, and stroked a hand over her arm. Screw distance. This was way better. He circled an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. And when he looked down at her, she was staring back with these big green eyes.

“What is this really about for you, Rafe? Wanting me on this trip. Setting up this meeting…”

He changed the subject. “Are you still planning on going to your work party tomorrow night?”

She nodded and set the glass back in the holder.

When she didn’t go on, Rafe said, “I’d be happy to go with you if you don’t want to go alone. You don’t have to claim me as anything other than a friend, and I won’t cling and cramp your style. Just an offer in case you, you know, would like a familiar face in the crowd.”

She sighed and glanced around the car’s interior with a distracted “That would be nice.”

Rafe reached over and put his hand on her knee. The warmth and softness of her skin registered immediately. “Mia, what’s wrong?”

Her gaze came around. “This is all incredibly extravagant, but…” She shook her head and angled to face him. “I don’t understand this push. I don’t want this, Rafe. Honestly, I’m here because it was so important to all of you for me to do this. I’m barely keeping my calm with everything I’ve already got going. This new, demanding job in this new, demanding field, working with new people, across the country from the people I love most. Living in a new apartment with a new roommate, in a new town with a new culture. Even the weather is all different. I think that’

s enough to adjust to. This probably isn’t the best time to take on the freelance design market. We can’t all be stellar shots on the spur of the moment in any situation.”

“Mia,” he said, his voice filled with apology, “that’s not why—”

“And to be honest,” she cut him off, “if I’m going to use what little energy I have toward something, it’s going to be toward figuring out what’s going on with us. Then figuring out how I’m going to leave it behind in a very short time. I came on this trip hoping I’d get more of you than a quickie before the games. Hoping we could talk about what you said yesterday on the ice.”

His stomach and heart squeezed at the same time. “You’re always so clearheaded. So straightforward. I wish I was half as sharp.”

“Says the man leading his team into the Stanley Cup playoffs.” She shifted on the seat, curling up real close until her breasts and belly pressed against his arm. Her hand slid across his abdomen and heat flooded south. “What is this really about for you, Rafe?”

“This is about something special, just for you, Mia.” He covered her hand with his own. “All your life, everything has been about me and Tate. We’ve gotten all the attention, all the breaks, all the opportunities, all Joe’s time. You said it yourself; you get the leftovers. You’ve always lived in our shadows, and it’s a crime. You’re so talented, so smart, and you work so damn hard for everything you have. Success is about three things—talent or knowledge, taking or making opportunities, and who you know. You’ve mined the hell out of two of those assets. I think if you take that last step, you’re going to find that you’re ready to stop working for other people. And I’d really like to see the fruits of all your talent, smarts, and hard work come back to you for a change. That’s what this is about.”

She searched his eyes, clearly skeptical. “Why now?”

“Because you’re different. I don’t know if it was your last apprenticeship or your last relationship or our time apart over the last year, or all of it, but you’ve grown. You’re…” He exhaled. “I don’t want you to take this wrong, which is probably impossible, but you’re just more…mature. You’ve always been sensible and responsible and compassionate. But now you’re just, I don’t know, now you’re savvy. Clever. Charming in a different, more worldly way.” While still being the girl next door, which made him absolutely crazy. “And your designs…”

He glanced down—something he’d been trying not to do. Her breasts swelled into the sheered fabric crisscrossing the bodice, her skin smooth and glowing. Swells and skin he wanted in his hands, his mouth. He wanted her so bad, every cell of his body ached with the need.

Swallowing against a dry throat, he asked, “Is this another one of yours?”

“Yes.” Her answer was smooth and soft and leading. “Do you like it?”

He wasn’t going there. “You’ve really broken out, baby. Your designs are sophisticated and bold and beautiful.” He pried his gaze from the length of her smooth thigh stretching from beneath the short hem. “Yet you can whip out fun, stylish jersey designs on the spur of the moment and produce them in a matter of days. I don’t have to be fluent in design to know that’s an incredibly valuable asset. The fact that Hollywood snapped you up is confirmation.”

He lifted his hand to her face and tilted it up to his. Her lips were parted and just inches away. He needed to taste her. Needed it.

“Just talk to him. If it’s not for you, fine. If the opportunity presents itself and you want to explore it, great. But don’t close the door before you even check it out. You’re so ready to take this step.”

Her eyes searched his, and a soft smile turned her mouth, one that pulled him back in time. “Sometimes I still see that kid you used to be. A smile, a look, and you drag me back to those Colorado summers.”

Rafe might not have noticed her when he’d been sixteen and she’d been fourteen, but when she’d turned sixteen and he’d been eighteen, that changed—in a big way. She hadn’t just blossomed into a woman, she’d exploded. Rafe remembered it as an overnight transformation from the skinny, leggy fifteen-year-old tomboy challenging him and Tate to springtime figure skating competitions on the local pond, into the curvy, eye-popping, sixteen-year-old lifeguarding at the local pool.

“It was a good thing I got swept away by the Eagles,” he said, mentioning the farm team he’d joined that summer. “Otherwise, my hormones would have overridden my brain and there would have been hell to pay with Tate.”

Which would have ended his relationship with Joe. And those two men were the reason Rafe was where he was today. The main reason Rafe had all he had.

She smiled. “I miss those days.” She pulled her hand from under Rafe’s and stroked it across his belly, stirring heat. “And I still prefer that old truck of yours to this ride. Those greasy burgers at the café on the corner to whatever five-star restaurant we’re going to tonight. If you lost everything now…” She lifted a shoulder, and her lips curved in the slightest smile. “I’d still hang with you.”