Page 33 of He Has Charm

Shit. Shit. Shit. I look away. He’s too bright to look at, like he has the wattage of a million suns and I’ll melt into a puddle of wimpy emotions if I stare.

When the cab pulls up, I hurry to get in the front seat so I don’t have to sit next to him in the back. He tosses me an accusing look, shaking his head as he throws our bags into the back seat and follows them inside. The ride to the townhouse is blessedly short but I talk to the cab driver the whole way, not that he listens. I’m honestly not even sure the poor man understands much English, but my nerves are fried with all the expended effort of resisting Mr. Hockey Charmer.

As soon as the cab stops I jump out as if I need to escape, except that’s ridiculous, foolish, and irrational since my escape is straight into the lion’s den—a townhouse I’ll be sharing with this irresistible tomcat for the next four months. Then I turn, because I remember I need to pay the cabbie, but I find Maddox taking care of the driver as he hands over a fifty-dollar bill.

It figures. He’s over the top in every way. He probably doesn’t even carry tens and twenties like normal people. He unloads our bags onto the sidewalk. At the end of a short walk lined with a wrought iron fence that cages in a patch of grass and flowers on each side, the townhouse door flies open. Delaney steps outside and she’s not smiling, and I’m not sure the last time I’ve seen her smile.

“About time. Let’s get going. I have work to do.” Delaney makes a show of checking her watch as she glares at Maddox, who carries the bags and follows us inside the door. “Here are the keys.” She hands me two sets. “Front and back door. I have some paperwork for you both to sign.”

“Good morning, Delaney,” Knight says. “I apologize for not bringing coffee. You clearly could use some.” He seems to have a death wish giving the ballbuster shit, but she surprises me and snorts a half laugh as she motions for us to follow through the hall. Maddox leaves the bags in the impressive front entry and we all push through a door into a sparkling chef’s kitchen.

Knight lets out a wolf whistle as if there’s a naked woman laid out on the massive island, the way he’s eying the marble countertop.

“Fucking A, Delaney. This place rocks.” He spins around, checking it all out like he’s a kid stepping onto the ice at the Garden for the first time, flat-out awestruck. He rounds the island and wraps his arms around the Delaney, lifts her off her feet and spins her around.

Well, color me green because my first gut reaction is to wish I was the one in his arms, followed closely by my second, which is to feel an overwhelming surge of jealousy. No matter how ridiculously inappropriate and irrational the feeling is, it’s there in spades and I’m having a hard time shoving it down to the recesses where my baser instincts reside. I resolve to get a new imaginary lock put on that door to contain feelings like this.

“Put me down and sign the lease. It says we’re deducting the rent from your salary.” She turns to me and says, “And of course we’re accounting for the Jett agency’s share as well. Utilities and a cleaning service are included.” Knight sets her on the floor and picks up the pen and signs the paper on the island without reading it. Delaney almost smiles and slides the paper and pen over to me on the other side of the island. They’re both watching me and I know it’s a done deal, that we’ve already agreed to this, but I hesitate all the same because my heart thuds and rises into my throat. This is a momentous occasion.

I’m signing up to live with a hot hunky player who’s magic to my body and death to my career.

“Get on with it, St. John. I don’t have all day. It says exactly what we agreed to. Don’t you trust me?” Delaney scoffs like I’m a shithead if I don’t trust her, which I would be.

“It’s not that,” I say, but I don’t elaborate and my eyes track to Knight’s automatically. His eyes flare up at me as if I’ve admitted that it’s him I don’t trust. He smirks. I lift the pen and scrawl my name. If he can do it, I can. And I can do it better.

I wonder what my imagination is thinking it is. Shit. Delaney scoops up the sheaf of papers and shifts them into her bag in one smooth move. I’ve always admired her efficiency.

“The place is all furnished. Follow me and I’ll show you through.” She starts walking. I follow and Knight follows right on my heels. I take a deep breath of his male scent—old denim, spicy aftershave, and that je ne sais quoi. “There are two bedrooms and a nursery.” She pushes open the nursery door for a two-count. Long enough for me to register cute. Then she closes the door.

“It’s big enough to fit a queen bed in there for my sister when she visits,” Maddox says. “She’s pregnant, but not due till next season. So we won’t need the crib.”

“You can always disassemble the crib and store it in the closet,” Delaney says and moves to the next bedroom. My uterus whines in protest. After a three-minute whirlwind tour where I secretly applaud the older woman for her speed-walking ability, she heads straight for the front door.

“I’ll leave you two on your own now. Stay out of trouble. Oh, and I live nearby so I’ll be stopping in for random hanky-panky checks.” She shifts her eyes back and forth between us. “Because that would be strictly against the contract and Jett and I—the Brawlers organization—are in complete agreement that there is to be none of that. It’s all hockey all the time for you, Knight. Got that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes her. She scoffs, steps outside, and pulls the door closed behind her with dramatic force. Shit. I want to throw myself at the door and beg her to come back because the overwhelming sense of being abandoned to face a dragon alone overtakes me.

But I shake off the stupidity for the moment, square my shoulders, and turn to face the blue-eyed monster. My trepidation deflates in disappointment to see he’s tapping his phone and when he puts it to his ear he meets my eyes and grins.

“Hey there, pest. Just wanted to call and let you know I’m in my new place.” He proceeds to give the so-called pest the address and I gather from the rest of his playful conversation that he’s talking to one of his sisters, the one that lives nearby. He’s invited her to visit over the next weekend.

And even though he holds on to my gaze for the entire conversation, he doesn’t mention me once, leaving out the somewhat important fact that I’m living here with him. When he ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket, I wait a beat for him to say something, then a second beat. Damn him. We both know he can outdo me in the silence department.

“So your sister will be visiting next weekend?” I finally say.

“Yeah. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” I can’t read his smile, so I give up.

“No. Why would I? She can take up babysitting duty while she’s here and give me a break. I’ll stay with my friend Shelly—”

“Oh no you don’t. You’re staying right here. I don’t want to get in trouble with Delaney and the Brawlers if she finds out you’re ditching your responsibility to babysit me.”

“I thought I was your warden?”

“Same thing, different age. But when I’m in your company, it’s best I don’t think of myself as a grown man. Then I’m liable to get too many grown-man ideas about you.” I throw up my hands to stop him from saying another word.

“I get the picture.” I pick up my bag and head for the guest room before I have to withstand another round of his flirty behavior. But I can feel his eyes heating my back as I walk away and the feeling isn’t unpleasant. In fact it makes me tingle. Along every single nerve ending. Right down to my toes.

Shit. I wish I’d packed my vibrator.