Page 9 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

4

PATRICK

Iwhistled on my way up the narrow corridor leading from the locker room to the double glass doors that opened into the parking lot. Anticipation drew me forward. We’d kicked ass in practice today. Time to relax and enjoy the nightlife Washington offered on a spectacular scale.

Coach’s door opened and a woman straight out of my fantasies walked out. Long, dark hair. Gray eyes with the potential to pierce my soul. Long legs. Great tits. My whistle rose into appreciation. I cut it off before she heard the inevitable cat call and turned her nose up at me. I’d made that mistake before. Never again.

Duncan followed the woman out. The two of them faced each other in the hallway, standing close enough I almost mistook them for romantic partners. But nope. Duncan wore the kind of expression I’d seen him make when someone pissed him off. This woman wasn’t waiting to jump into his bed.

Mine on the other hand…

I could already imagine her between my maroon silk sheets. Didn’t matter what she was here for, I knew for damned certain I’d be filling up her nightly schedule tonight. I eased my hands into my pockets and squared my shoulders, making them even broader. I knew how that move pulled my gray Henley across my chest and made the defined muscles pop. Women went gaga for the kind of physique I’d sculpted over the years.

Duncan and the mystery woman chatted a few more seconds, then Duncan turned my way, bypassing me with a grunt on his way to the locker room. No lingering moments. No indication they were romantically involved. Good. That opened everything up for me to slip in and make my move. Duncan made it clear when he arrived that he didn’t have a special girl, which meant I wouldn’t be swooping in on a teammate’s relationship. I had boundaries. Not many, but a few. Horning in on someone else’s girl was number one on the no way list. I could get any girl any time. No need to resort to destroying anyone else’s good time.

The woman followed Duncan at a slower pace. A tiny frown line creased the space between her perfectly plucked eyebrows.

“What’s a woman like you doing down here in the trenches?” I propped my elbow on the wall about head height, my body doing the rest of the work to block the hallway. She had room to pass but I gave her multiple reasons to stop.

And she did. “Excuse me?” The faintest hint of pink rose to her cheeks.

I winked. “It’s okay. I get it. You were hoping to catch us in the nude, right?” It was easy to toss my head, knowing my dark hair would fall into place in cascading waves more than one woman had demanded to run her hands through.

“You know, funny as it may seem, most women are not as interesting in seeing a bunch of dicks.” She arched a brow, her tone somehow polite and dirty all at the same time. She set her hands on her narrow hips. “Especially the kind who think they’re god’s gift to women.” The words were meant to hurt, but her eyes dilated, and she looked me over in a quick, furtive glance.

Ah, there was the spark. I’d laid it on a little too thick, and I dialed back the macho man, alpha male personality to something more palatable. “Oh, you got me all wrong.” I pushed off from the wall. “I was just trying to save you the embarrassment of walking into the middle of a little show and tell. The guys are in a good mood.”

“There’s nothing in that locker room I haven’t seen before.” A shadow of something raced across her face, drawing her perfect lips into a frown.

I waited for the moment when she recognized me, but it never came. The massive blow to my ego spurred me on. “Really? Anything in particular I can help you with while you’re here?”

“You can tell me your name.” She stuck hers out between us. “I’m Miranda.”

“Patrick.” No recognition. Damn it. “Patrick Harrison.”

She blinked and nodded. “Nice to meet you, Patrick.”

Seriously? Still nothing? She must not know anything about hockey. So why was she here?

“You know, if you’re lost, I’d be happy to walk you out.” I motioned toward the doors. “There’s a great little coffee shop down the street.”

“Oh, I’m not lost.” She propped her shoulder on the cream-colored wall. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “You know, I was about to say the same thing. It’s like serendipity or something.”

“You think so?” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. She’d done that once already. A guaranteed sign of attraction or a nervous tick?

I matched her posture, returning my hands to my pockets. “Definitely. If you’re not here for a peek into the locker room, there must be some reason. Are you friends with Duncan?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Her polka-dotted bowtie framed her slim neck, drawing my attention to a tiny freckle in the center of her throat. “Do you get interrupted often while you’re in the locker room?”

“Not often. Couple times a year someone sneaks in. Usually a fan hoping for some juicy gossip or a selfie that’ll make them go viral. You know, usual stuff.” I refrained from mentioning that they were usually after me. Seemed a bit unnecessary based on her obvious interest.

“So. What got you started in hockey?”

“My dad.” The casual conversation brought us closer together, the narrow hallway making sure we almost touched when she looked past me at the locker room doors. “If you want a peek, I can let you in.” Another wink. This time she grinned and licked her lips. I practically groaned at the sight. She oozed charisma and charm. This girl might have more game than me. The thought fled almost as fast as it hit, leaving me fishing for a question.

“Does your dad watch you play?” Miranda beat me to the punch, her question bringing up a rush of familiar memories.

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