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He was staring down at her like she’d lost her mind. And maybe she had, but damn if she was going to leave before he knew how sorry she was.
“Logan, I…”
She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because his hands were on her. Those long, warm, fingers wrapped around her wrists, pulling her closer to that delicious scent that clung to him. That delicious scent that could only screw her up more than she already was.
He bent down and the spike of heat inside her tripled. She held her breath, not knowing what to expect, and when the warmth from his mouth fell over her neck, she nearly sagged into him. The only thing holding her steady and away from him was the express knowledge that every single set of eyes in the immediate area was focused on the two of them.
“Billie, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Last night was unacceptable. The behavior of the guys on that team was unacceptable. But trust me, I paid a visit to Longwood this afternoon and it won’t happen again, not if that asshole wants to stay in one piece.”
She pulled her head back—which might have been a bad decision because now she was gazing at his mouth—at lips that were parted slightly. Lips that were perfect. Kissable.
Really, really, kissable.
Dragging her eyes up to Logan’s she exhaled a shaky breath, aware that his gaze had dropped down to the low neckline and her straining cleavage. Maybe there was something to this whole dress thing after all.
His eyes moved up to hers and something tight twisted inside her. He looked so fierce and sexy, ready to kick ass—all for her.
“What he did was dirty and the league won’t stand for that kind of crap.” He paused, “I won’t stand for it.”
“I,” she started to speak but a shot of feedback ripped through the air just as the lights went up.
“I’d like everyone’s attention for a moment, please.”
Billie turned and watched Logan’s mother beam down at them from the stage, her vivid red costume a stunning contrast to the gray, black and white zombies who made up Ike’s band.
“We’re going to take a few minutes and run our live auction so that we can get the business out of the way before the band starts playing.”
Several cheers greeted her announcement as she introduced the auctioneer, Pat-something or other. The man was small and appropriately dressed as a hobbit, though he’d doffed his wig earlier and his bald head glistened beneath the overhead lights.
That low buzz of panic that had dodged her all night settled in her gut and Billie rubbed clammy palms against her upper thighs.
The live auction was supposed to happen at midnight. Shit, she’d not planned on sticking around for it. Damn, Connor and his stupid ass ideas.
For twenty minutes, Billie stood beside Logan as various items were offered up for bids—trips to wine country, his and her massages, cottage getaways and a free legal consultation at Gerald’s firm. After each item, the knot in Billie’s stomach grew larger. Sweat broke out along her forehead and tendrils of hair stuck to the back of her neck.
It was hot. Christ, she was as hot as Logan looked.
She leaned toward him. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air, I don’t feel so good.”
He didn’t hear her, because the auctioneer had just announced a “fabulous opportunity for one on one hockey coaching with New Waterford’s very own Billie-Jo Barker.”
Silence greeted his words. Not total silence mind you since there were a few snickers that rang out.
Billie stared up at the auctioneer wishing a big black hole would appear and suck her into an alternate realm. One where nobody stared. Or gossiped. Or shot daggers into her back.
“Billie-Jo has generously offered four private coaching sessions to some lucky winner. And considering she’s an Olympic medal champion and a former professional player, what a great opportunity!” The auctioneer beamed down at her and pointed—just in case no one knew that the skanky angel in front, was in fact, her. He winked at Billie. “I hear she’s causing a bit of excitement in the men’s league.”
Wrong thing to say.
Laughter followed his declaration, the kind that was mean spirited—hidden behind hands—or not. Sabrina Fairfax made no effort to hide the loud guffaw that fell from her lips.
Aware of the many eyes turned her way, she kept her gaze focused on the auctioneer. [i]Just keep staring at him. It will be all right.[i]
“Okay, let’s start with an opening bid of one hundred dollars.”
Once more silence greeted his words and Billie’s eyes smarted as she stared up at Pat like she was concentrating on a game winning goal.
“Anyone?” the auctioneer coaxed, the smile on his face fading as he gazed down into a crowd that had suddenly turned into an entirely different animal. He squared his shoulders and dug back in. “One hundred dollars, folks! Come on this is an amazing opportunity for some lucky winner!”
