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Cole had had enough.
“You don’t take no for an answer,” Cole interrupted, and had the pleasure of seeing Marisa flush.
She turned her big doe eyes on him. “I’m hoping you’ll reconsider, if you’ll just listen to what I have to say.”
“If he won’t listen, I will,” Jordan joked. “In fact, why don’t we make an evening of it? Everything goes down better with a little champagne—unless you prefer wine?”
Cole gave his brother a hard stare, but Jordan kept his gaze on Marisa.
“The Pershing School needs a headliner for its Pershing Shines Bright benefit,” Marisa said to Jordan.
“I’ll do it,” Jordan said.
“You didn’t graduate from the Pershing School.”
“A minor detail. I was a student for a while.”
Marisa took a step and swayed, her heels failing to find firm ground in the ring. Cole reached out to steady her, but she grasped one of the ropes for support, and he let his arm fall back to his side.
Careful. Touching Marisa was a bad idea, as he’d been reminded only last week.
“Cole’s the better choice because he graduated from Pershing,” Marisa said, looking into his eyes. “I know you have some loyalty to your school. You had a few good hockey seasons there.”
“And thanks to you, no championship.”
She looked abashed and then recovered. “That has to do with me, not Pershing, and anyway, there’s a new school principal.”
“But you’re the messenger.”
“A very pretty one,” Jordan volunteered.
Cole froze his brother with a look. He and Marisa had known each other in a carnal sense, which should make her off-limits to Jordan. But he wasn’t about to let his brother in on those intimate details—which meant he was in a bind about issuing a warning. Jordan was a player who liked women, making Marisa a perfect target for the charm that he never seemed to turn off.
Jordan shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it wasn’t Marisa’s fault.”
None of them needed him to elaborate.
“It was me at the principal’s office,” she admitted.
“But you’re sorry...?” Jordan prompted, throwing her a lifeline.
“I regret my role, yes,” she said, looking pained.
Cole lowered his shoulders. He’d gotten the closest thing to an apology.
Still, Marisa had another motive for showing up today. And while he may have gotten over high school and his suspension a long time ago, forgiving and forgetting her treachery was still a long time coming...
Jordan shot him a speaking glance. “And Cole apologizes for being Cole.”
Cole scowled. “Like hell.”
They hadn’t even touched on intimate levels of betrayal that Jordan knew nothing about.
Jordan gestured with his glove. “Okay, I typically leave the mediation talks to the NHL honchos, but let’s give this one more try. Cole regrets messing up with his last prank.”
“Right,” Cole said tightly but then couldn’t resist taking a shot at his brother to dislodge the satisfied look on his face. “Jordan, talk show host is not in your future.”
His brother produced a wounded look. “Not even sportscaster?”
