Page 15 of Press Your Luck

I recognized a few of the players from the team, their eyes widening as they saw me. Perhaps like my seeing Max, they were surprised I could clean up well.

“There’s the team.” Max led me over to the group.

I smiled. "Hey, guys. Nice to see you all here."

They shuffled their feet, awkwardly nodding their heads in greeting. Big Ed was there, looking uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Uh, hey, Coach. Nice dress," he muttered.

"Thank you, Big Ed. You look nice too.”

The other players chuckled, and Big Ed glared at them. It was odd to see the blush on his cheeks.

The snap of a camera made me flinch. “Sorry. Just getting a photo of the beauty and her beasts.”

Jeez, Todd had nearly called it right. I wanted to make the photographer recognize me as a coach, not a pretty woman, but I plastered on a smile and prepared to play my part.

9

Pierce

Jesus fuck. I was sure I swallowed my tongue. Naomi entered the ballroom looking confident, beautiful, and sexy as hell. And she wasn't trying nearly half as hard as most of the other women in this room. Her dress was a lovely shade of green, exposing creamy, yet strong looking shoulders. The dress was fitted, but it also had soft, flowy fabric belying the hard edge she frequently showed as a coach. Her hair was pulled back, but not in the tight ponytail she normally wore. Like her dress, it was soft. Her makeup wasn't slathered on, but instead, it gave her face a glow. She was a bright light, and like a moth, I was mesmerized by it. I didn't even give a shit that if I flew too close to her, I would get burned up.

Until Naomi entered the room, I was counting down the seconds before I could leave. I was not a man built for fancy balls and charity events. I would rather be in jeans than this penguin suit I was wearing now. I wasn't an antisocial person, but neither was I one to schmooze and blow smoke up people's asses to make him feel good so that they would donate money. All that was Reed’s domain, and I was pretty pissed off that he insisted I had to come to this charity event. I could support kids’ causes without having to be here.

I'd been watching how Reed and even Bo seemed right at home with the elite of Las Vegas. Even Bo’s wife Ruby, who I knew was like me and more at home in jeans, looked like a million bucks as she stood next to Bo, rubbing the small swell of her belly. I was still amazed how a messed up playboy like Bo found a great woman and was now a father with a second child on the way.

They didn't need me, and as I tugged on the collar of my shirt that felt like a noose and planned my escape, Naomi walked in and everything else in the world vanished. That is until I realized she had her arm threaded through Max Blake's as they entered the room.

My first thought was I wanted to go over and rip his arms out of their sockets. My second thought was, could she possibly be dating him? She was his coach. Surely, there were rules against that. Then again, why would there be rules in men's hockey about dating your coach?

Did we have any rules around fraternizing? Whether there were official rules or not, it was a well-known standard societal belief that relationships between bosses and their employees was frowned upon. That had to include coaches and their players.

This wasn't the first time I'd seen them together. Local sports bloggers had caught them exiting the rink together. And by together, I didn’t mean like a coach and player leaving the building. He had his arm strung over her shoulder. I suppose this frustration was deserved if I was going to spend more time than I should on blogging and sports news sites researching her.

I suppose one might argue that I was reading more into the two of them being together, but I wouldn't be alone in my thoughts. Even the bloggers were questioning their relationship. And they did it in a way that was on the one hand gossip, but on the other hand, almost as if they were hoping it was true. Like it'd be some sort of fairy tale. I couldn't deny that they looked good together. It highlighted the fact that I was so much older than her, and it made me a dirty old man to lust after her the way I did.

"Coach Jackson. Coach Withers. Let's get some pictures of the two of you together,” a photographer said, approaching me.

I gave a shake of my head. "No, thanks." The last thing I needed was to be standing next to Naomi and despite my current irritation, end up with a hard-on.

Like lemmings, other photographers gathered around. "Oh, come on."

Naomi moved toward us. "I'm game. Maybe we’re rivals on the ice, but clearly, we both support children's charities."

God damn her. Now I was going to look like I hated children if I didn't take photos with her. Then again, while she was smiling, there was a wariness in her eyes that I suspected meant she didn’t want to take pictures any more than I did. She was hoping that I'd stand firm on no pictures and come out looking like the bad guy.

I decided to call her bluff. I gave the photographer an affable smile and a shrug. "Well, of course, I'll do it for the kids. I just wasn't sure whether Mr. Blake would be all right with his date taking photos with another man. And not just any other man, but a man with much more experience." I let the comment hang for a moment, knowing anyone around us listening would turn it into sexual innuendo. "On the ice, of course," I finished.

Naomi's eyes narrowed, either not liking what I said or that I had agreed to the photos. Probably both.

"How about we have one with a friendly handshake?” a photographer called out.

I slid one hand into my pocket, hoping to create bulk in my pants on the chance that my dick was going to respond to being so close to her. I extended my other hand out toward her to shake.

She took my hand and plastered a smile on her face, but anyone looking close into her eyes would know she was not happy or friendly.

"Okay, how about one where you're back-to-back?”

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