He snorted, obviously amused. “Scorpios aren’t as bad as they say, you know.”
This couldn’t be happening right now. She’d finally met a man she already knew she wouldn’t tire of after a few dates and he was a freaking hockey player.
“Hockey?” she asked, just to be sure. Maybe she’d heard him wrong. “Really?”
“Yes, really. You asked what I do, and what I do is play professional hockey. Minor leagues at the moment, but not for long.”
“I should’ve known when I had my hands on that ass you played hockey. Dammit.”
He sat up, though he didn’t get out of her bed. “Most womenwantto fuck professional hockey players, you know.”
“I’m not most women. I hate hockey, and I don’t fuck hockey players.”
“Didn’t.”
“What?”
“Youdidn’tfuck hockey players. Past tense. Now you do.”
“Did.” She gave him a pointed look. “Past tense.”
“Ouch.”
“My brother plays hockey.”
“Really? Like in a local league?”
She slid off the bed, letting the sheet fall away so she could pull her robe on and signal he should get dressed. A hockey player? Not a chance. She was done here, and it was time for him to go. “No, professionally. For the Boston Marauders.”
She happened to be looking at him when she said the words, so she saw the effect they had on him. His face froze, the color draining from it, and she was willing to bet if she could see the back of his neck, the hair there would be standing up. “Your brother plays for the Boston Marauders?”
“Yeah. Erik Burke.”
He stared at her for a few long seconds and then fell back onto the pillow. “Oh,fuck.”
Of all thewomen in all the gin joints in Boston…or something like that.
Will scrubbed his hands over his face as he tried to figure out how the hell to get out of the predicament he’d gotten himself into. He’d just had sex with the sister of the only guy he’d ever really hated off the ice—the guy with whom he had a rivalry so infamous nobody talked about one’s career without at least a passing mention of the other.
He needed to get the fuck out of here and forget he’d ever met this woman.
But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to leave yet and even though the sweat had barely dried on his skin, he already knew he wasn’t ever going to forget her.
“What’s going on right now?” she asked, and he sighed, surrendering to the inevitable.
“Does the name Cross Lecroix mean anything to you?”
She rolled her eyes and made a sound that told him yes, the name meant something to her. And it wasn’t something good. “Of course. It wouldn’t be a Burke family dinner without a heaping side of Cross Lecroix hate.”
It took everything he had not to laugh out loud. Not that there was anything particularly funny about the situation, but the improbability of them ending up in bed together was so ridiculous he could barely hold it back.
Before he could speak, she pointed a finger at him. “If you’re about to ask for an autograph or help getting to the majors or some bullshit, you can get up and get the fuck out right now. You’re not getting to either of them through me. Not my brother and certainly not Cross fucking Lecroix.”
That did make him laugh.Cross fucking Lecroix?But he stopped laughing when she sent an icy glare his way.
“I don’t want an autograph.” He got up and pulled on his boxer briefs because it was time to get dressed. The way this night was going, he was going to be out the door pretty damn soon, and he’d prefer to be fully dressed when it slammed behind him. “Do you not even know what Lecroix looks like? You haven’t seen a picture of him? Seen his face on the television?”
“Not that I remember or paid any attention to. I might have to listen to my family bitch about him, but other than that, I ignore him. I ignoreallof it.” She frowned, and then he could practically hear the click of puzzle pieces falling into place in her mind. “No. Absolutely just…no.”
