Page 55 of Behind the Net

His hand slips down, taking mine. “Thank you, but I’m driving us home.”

His hand is huge, warm, and calloused, and I lean against the bar counter for support. This is a lot, pretending with him like this, and I’m starting to like it too much.

“We live in Gastown.” His eyes meet mine and there’s a flash of humor in his gaze just for me.

“You live together,” one of the makeup artists repeats, and she stares at one of the hair stylists with meaning.

Every woman knows this look. It’s the one I shoot Hazel sometimes that meanswe will gossip about this later. My chest squeezes and I tamp down my smile.

A few minutes later, a staff member for the event appears at my side.

“You’ve been invited upstairs,” he says imperiously, like I’ve been summoned by a king.

Jamie’s mouth is by my ear again. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he murmurs, and his breath tickles my neck. It’s hard to think when he does that. I can smell his aftershave, and it makes me feel like pulling him down a dark hallway and reliving our kiss.

He pulls back to look down at me, and mischief sparks in his eyes. I’m so intrigued by this version of the surly goalie. “Or we can have some fun,” he whispers, glancing at my mouth.

I wilt out of pure horniness. Jamie Streicher is going to kill me tonight.

A rueful smile twists onto my mouth as I nod at him. “Okay.”

Alone, this would be god-awful andterrifying. With Jamie, though, it feels like we’re in it together. Like we’re at a costume party where our costumes are so good, no one can recognize us. Playing a couple feels like a shield, a private joke just for us.

With him by my side, I’m okay. I’ve got this.

The staff member leads us up the stairs to the VIP section, and I feel eyes on us the entire way. Jamie’s hand is on my arm, helping me in these tottering heels. Halfway up, my steps falter as hesitation claws up my throat.

Panic begins to pound in my chest and I can’t take a full breath. I’m back at the airport, crying in the terminal after I was thrown out like yesterday’s trash.

“Hey.” Jamie looks down at me, concern crossing over his expression. “Remember what I said.”

Right. Outside.I’m your goalie tonight. I’ll block all your shots.

I nod at him. Meeting his eyes settles my racing heart. “You won’t let him get between my crease?” I whisper, smiling. It’s a phrase I heard one of the commentators say while I watched one of Jamie’s away games. It means to score a goal, and it sounds dirty as hell. I’m trying to make him smile.

His lip curls like he’s disgusted, and I laugh.

“Inyour crease,” he mutters. “And no, I fucking won’t.”

He says it sharp, with jealousy, but maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part. As I step onto the landing at the top of the steps, I lean my weight onto his arm.

“Why’d you wear these ridiculous shoes?”

I shrug. “Because they’re hot.”

His gaze lingers on my legs. “Yeah” is all he says.

The staff member unhooks the velvet rope, and I try not to roll my eyes. Did this stuff ever impress me? I hate that the party is so divided. Zach wouldn’t even have a tour if not for all the people on the main floor who bust their asses every night, racing to fix last-minute audio issues or hunt for replacement equipment. He has no clue how half their jobs even work.

“Pippa.”

Zach’s in my face, wrapping me in a hug. His scent is in my nose, and my heart lodges in my throat. My skin crawls as he embraces me and our ears brush. A repulsed shiver rolls down my back. This is nothing like when I touch Jamie. It’s cold and stiff, and the second Zach lets me go, I back away—straight into Jamie.

His arm locks around my waist, pinning me to his side, and I breathe a sigh of relief. That’s so much better.

Zach’s staring at me with a surprised smile, blinking with a tiny frown like I’m someone he can’t place. “Look at you.”

“Hi.” I still can’t really breathe, but Jamie gives my waist a squeeze before he drags his nails over the velvet fabric. I wonder if he likes that sensation, because I sure do.

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