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Calista tapped on the screen, paged through the websites, then she handed the phone back. “I went with my favorite seafood restaurant, but we can fight it out if you want?”
A restaurant, hmm. And the teasing way she’d offered was like he was her friend, that was disconcerting, and not appealing. Though it should be, that wasn’t a bad dynamic to have with the front office. No, it was way too involved. When Calista made an organizational decision Ronan didn’t like, it would be like being mad at a buddy. He breathed out. He’d keep this business-like. Ronan checked the display. Restaurants weren’t inherently romantic. Calista was being professional. Sort of. He was the one failing the keep-it-professional test. Ronan added his order to hers and hit send. He gave her a neutral smile. “Do you like wine? The rental came with a refrigerated wine room.”
Calista hesitated.
Smart, liquor wasn’t always great with business, but he wanted to keep this friendly so they could go over the guys’ questions and make a plan to get his treadmill fixed.
“May I use the guest room another night?”
An hour ago, he’d have said no. Having the owner sleepover was not typical, however, having seen the state of his gym, her sticking around to reassemble his equipment made sense. “I would like my treadmill back in one piece, so I’m thinking that your being around is for the best.”
Calista giggled. A womanly, surprised feminine sound that showed she relished his mild teasing.
She was too appealing. Ronan got up and went to the refrigerated wine room. Calista followed him through the glass door. He put on a social smile. “You have a favorite?”
“Nope, your pick.” Calista checked the vents, the refrigeration unit, the temperature probe and got to her knees to touch the pins that held the racks to the walls.
Calista spent a lot of time on her knees. Ronan swallowed, forced his attention to the white wines, and grabbed a German bottle that would pair well with seafood. Trying not to look at her, he bent and tugged on her elbow to bring her up.
Calista followed him back to the kitchen. She rewashed her hands while he uncorked and poured the wine, and then they took their glasses back to the living room.
Okay, he’d get this business conversation on track. “The guys have questions.”
Calista wrinkled her nose and looked away.
His direct approach didn’t always fly with women. He knew that, and Calista seemed to spook more easily than others. If she bolted, he’d have to spend his evening shopping for a treadmill and forming an explanation for the guys about why he had no update for them. He changed course. “That said, I would like to get to know you a little better first, on a professional level.” In the shallowest manner possible. “That way we’ll know where we’re both coming from, that okay?”
Calista nodded enthusiastically and took a drink of her wine. “Yes, let’s do that.”
Ronan smiled, ready to take charge.
Calista jumped in. “Tell me about where you grew up. Your favorite coach? What kind of program did he run? Off league? Does anyone else in your family play?” She eyed his body with an appreciative gleam, which made her light green irises sparkle. “Fitness regimen?”
All that was unexpected for a quiet woman, and that gleam rubbed his ego the right way. Ronan felt himself smiling even while heat flushed his face. He took a drink of the sweet, crisp wine, fighting how flattered he was, or was this stealth business questioning? Her questions were what he’d hear during a professional league interview.
At least she wasn’t asking how soon he’d retire. That was the question that finally clued him into the nature of his ex. Bria had wanted a family life, but one that contained ample staff and jet setting, not home minding, kids raising, cooking, and caring for each other. Why was he comparing Calista with Bria? They were nothing alike.
Calista was the one being appropriate here. He was the one whose thoughts were racing outside his lane. Not his fault really, not with the mixed signals she’d sent when they’d first met. Had they been mixed? No, Calista had been naked save for his jersey, her interest had been clear.
Ronan flattened his palm on the smooth oak table and focused on her questions. “Seattle, played in school and college, love it.”
“Ahh.” Her voice sounded so sexual, relishing each word. “Would love to see that footage. My favorite part of your playing is your flexibility, there’s nothing you can’t do on the ice.”
Her attention was intense, and Ronan had to let her go on.
She did, with stellar recall, starting from the first game she’d seen him in on TV when he’d played in Washington state, up until he started with the Snowers. Before she could finish describing her favorite highlights from each game, his phone pinged, announcing their delivery.
His flush had gone down to his chest at this point. They were on their second glass of wine, and he’d let her praise him and ask him hockey questions the whole time. What was wrong with him? He didn’t know, but he felt fantastic when she gushed on about his awesomeness.
At least he’d learn one thing, one critically important thing, Calista straight up loved hockey. She wasn’t lying about that. Dodo did also, but Dodo equally loved the lifestyle, the entertainment, the puck bunnies, and the powerful favors he could grant for executive fans. Still, Dodo would be the easier owner to back, because Calista came with complications, seriously, base, primal ones.
Calista eyed the phone and popped up. “Food’s here, I’ll get it.” She jetted to the door and went outside.
Ronan put his hand behind his neck. Not like him to let the woman do the carrying, but he was trying hard not to view her as a woman. Five minutes passed. What was going on? The delivery guy should have handed over the bag and left. The hair on his arms prickled.
Calista was unassumingly gorgeous, not flashy. Guys often overlooked her type, but no mistake, she was as desirable as any woman he’d ever met. More. Ronan wouldn’t be alone thinking that.
And he’d let her run out and greet a strange dude. Guy could have grabbed her and taken off. His muscles tensed. He was being stupid and had clearly watched too many nightly news and forensic shows.
He headed to the door anyway.
