Page 45 of The Playmaker

“Actually, you should be thanking me. Your doc said to relax and I’m making that happen,” I say. “Do you know the effort I went through to book this for us?” I add, feigning exasperation.

His slow, sexy grin materializes. “Oh, don’t worry, I plan to thank you over and over again later tonight. Ropes and bedposts might even be involved.”

Heat crawls up my neck at his dirty words, and my mind takes that moment to visualize me tied to his bed. Lust spears me and I gulp, and judging from his widening grin, my needy reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. But anything involving bedposts and ropes will have to wait until he’s better. Nothing strenuous during his concussion.

Then again, when he’s better, he’ll be back on the ice and our secret affair will be over.

I swallow down my disappointment and say, “You know we can’t—”

My words fall off when I hear a gasp, and I glance up to see some cute, big-breasted blonde staring at me wide-eyed, like she can’t believe Cocky Cole is with me and not her—and not so quietly talking about tying me to his bed.

“Excuse me,” she says to me, then turns her attention to Cole. My insides tighten as she dismisses me, treating me like I’m not even important. But she’s the kind of girl Cole normally goes for, and she likely knows it.

He angles his head her way, and I lean back in my seat, fully expecting him to charm the panties off her, literally. Maybe he’ll even take her home, have sex with her in his bed, while I’m in the next room. Cole and I are not a couple, and truthfully, he can have sex with whoever he wants, and it really shouldn’t bother me so damn much.

“Hey,” he says to the girl, and with my throat tightening, I turn my attention to the front of the bar and pretend to examine the picture of the daisy on canvas, all the while working to ignore Cole as he does his Playmaker thing.

“Are you Cole Cannon?” the girl asks, her high-pitched voice reminding me of a yappy Chihuahua. Yap, yap, yap. Really, her voice is fine. I just don’t appreciate her approaching when Cole is trying to have some relaxation time—among other reasons I probably shouldn’t examine so hard.

“Yeah, I’m Cole,” he says, and shifts backward so I’m in full view. “And this is Nina Callaghan.” He puts his arm over the back of my chair—a possessive move that takes me by surprise—and shifts closer to me. “She thought it would be fun for me to paint a daisy on our date night.”

Date night.

My heart leaps in my chest. We’d already established this wasn’t a date, and if he was going to pick up this girl, no way would he allude to the fact that we were together—like that.

Deep green eyes meet mine, and I don’t miss the spark as his gaze moves over my face. “Isn’t that right, Nina?”

“Yeah,” I say, my brain working to catch up. Cole isn’t flirting with the blonde.

Cole isn’t flirting with the blonde

Instead, he’s pretending we’re a couple and gazing at me like he can’t wait to get me back in his bed. A flutter moves through me, settling deep between my legs.

He looks back at the girl as she leans into him, putting her cleavage right out there, inches from his face. Blatant much? Cripes, why doesn’t she just offer him up a spoon?

“I’m Becca, by the way, and I’m sure there are other things you’d rather be doing tonight.” She flashes him a come-hither smile, and I wait for him to take the bait. She laughs, a breathy little sound that grates on my last nerve. She waves her hand around the busy bar. “If I were on a date with you, we certainly wouldn’t be here.”

Bitch! Seriously, right in front of me, she’s putting that out there. I’m not one for confrontation or sparring—unless it’s with Cole, or flipping off impatient guys in their fancy cars—but no way am I going to let this girl treat me with such little respect.

I open my mouth, but Cole’s hand closing over mine stops me.

“The thing is, Becca, I’m recovering from a concussion, so right here is exactly where I need to be. Thank God Nina knows exactly how to take care of me. I’d be a wreck without her.”

The girl’s gaze flickers to me for a second. “Ah, okay…”

“Good luck with your daisy,” Cole says, and shifts his focus back to his canvas.

I stare at him, dumbfounded. He wasn’t rude to the girl, but he certainly didn’t turn on The Playmaker, either.

No, what he did, the way he pulled me to him, made me feel important, well, that was like…really sweet.

God, when did I start using Cole and sweet in the same sentence?

“You’d better close your mouth, Nina. Or you’re going to eat that fly buzzing around your head.”

I whack the fly away and shut my mouth. “We’re not on a date,” I say for lack of anything else.

“I

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