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She smiled too sweetly. “You remember that scene in one of the Star Wars movies where Han Solo undergoes carbon-freezing...?”
“I know you’d love to put me on ice—” his expression turned seductive “—but you’ve heated me up instead.”
“Jordan—”
“I like my name on your lips almost as much as your hair down.” Instead of her usual ponytail, her hair was swinging loose for a change. Somehow, even with the scrubs she was wearing, the style made her look seductive. He fought the urge to touch her.
As if on cue, she held up a staying hand, and he schooled his expression.
“Right. Behave.”
“As if you can.”
“I’m trying. And your appearance on my mother’s cooking show would help hold me to the bargain.”
She sighed in exasperation. “Let’s get started on your exercises for today.”
He flashed a grin. “So that’s a yes? You’ll do it?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Your behavior. Fortunately, we’re already in phase two of your rehabilitation.”
“Great, so you’re rehabilitating my knee and my playboy ways at the same time. Impressive.”
She arched her brows. “I didn’t say yes, but just call me a multitasker anyway. Today we’ll be focusing on improving your strength base and balance.”
As it turned out, the exercises she introduced him to in the gym were some he was familiar with from his pre-injury workouts. He had no trouble with leg squats and glut extensions, and then the various resistance exercises that she threw at him. All the while, Sera evaluated and corrected his body alignment and positioning.
Jordan concentrated on keeping his mind on the exercises. Focus was something that he normally excelled at, but with Sera nearby, he found that his concentration was shot. Instead, his mind wandered to the fullness of her lips, the softness of her skin and the pleasure of her occasional touch.
“We’re looking for symmetry of right and left in your gait,” she told him.
And he was looking for a yes to his proposition, so he aimed to please. At the end of their session, he couldn’t resist asking, “So how did I do?”
“Great.”
He winked. “And my reward is...?”
“I’ll speak to the agent who handles my public appearances and get back to you.”
He just laughed—because he was willing to chalk up anything other than an outright no as a win.
Eight
Sometimes it was good to catch up with teammates. Marc Bellitti and Vince Tedeschi lived just outside Springfield, where the Razors were based, so even in the off-season, they were good for an occasional beer at the Puck & Shoot, or for lunch like they were having today at another of their customary haunts, MacDougal’s Steakhouse.
Except today, Jordan had a motive for asking them to meet up. “I need your help.”
With a cooking show. He’d debated how to float the idea of making an appearance on her program to his mother. He knew she’d be delighted to have one of her children back on the air. And Jordan’s star power in particular couldn’t hurt—just as when his new sister-in-law, Chiara Feran, the Hollywood actress, had gone on the show. Debating what tactic he’d take since talking to Sera and finally getting a tentative commitment, he’d hit upon the idea of a cooking competition—among hometown-team hockey players. Sort of like Iron Chef with an ice-puck spin, and Sera as the judge. Brilliant. His mother had loved it.
All he needed was to recruit a couple of his teammates—and c’mon, they had to have time to burn in the off-season, and a little positive publicity couldn’t hurt.
“When don’t you need our help?” Marc joked, snagging a remaining fry from their burger lunch. “Need advice on how to talk to women? I’m your man.”
If there was anyone who could best him in the smart-aleck department, it was Marc. But Jordan held his fire, because—as much as this pained him—he needed Marc to play along here. And not in the way his teammate probably imagined. Aloud, he said, “It involves Vince, too.”
