Quill smirked and raised an eyebrow at her, probably because of her odd curse word. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist and easily lifted her away from the mess. Cora’s breath whooshed out of her and she felt hot all over from the warm the pressure of his arm around her waist, his palm cupping her hip, and the incredible smell of his musky cologne.
She stared into his blue eyes and felt slightly faint. They were a beautiful true-blue, and they were completely concentrated on her. He was big, almost six-five and two-eighty. She knew all of his stats and far too much about him, most of it the lies produced by Kris Bellissima. Lies that unfortunately Cora had shared with the world. If he knew who she truly was he definitely wouldn’t be gifting her with that appealing grin of his and keeping his arm securely around her waist.
Some employees whisked over and started cleaning up the mess, distracting her from his gaze. “I’m so sorry,” she said to them.
“Oh, it’s no problem, ma’am,” a beautiful blonde smiled sweetly at her.
“Thank you.”
Quill put just the right amount of pressure on her hip to direct her farther away from the disaster she’d made and the eyes of the crowd who had noticed her awkward moment. He took her around to an alcove of one of the restaurants that was thankfully quiet at the moment as all of the guests of the wedding parties and the resort were at the welcome party. The plan was a wedding each of the next three days and then a big Christmas Eve celebration.
He released his grip on her and turned to face her. She wished he hadn’t stopped touching her but that was silly. She didn’t know him and as soon as he found out who she was this conversation would be over. She and Mavyn had no pictures of them attached to their articles, simply a caricature that looked faintly like them, so maybe if she escaped soon he’d never know who she was.
“I’m sorry about your pants,” she murmured, looking down at his now apple juice decorated navy-blue suit pants.
“I’ll clean up just fine,” he said.
She looked over his handsome face and admitted, “Yes, you do ... look fine.”
“I could say the same.”
Her face flared red but luckily her deep-brown skin wouldn’t reveal that to him. “I thought hockey players were supposed to be covered in scars and missing teeth.”
He flashed her a devil-may-care grin. “I’ve got a fabulous dentist and the suit covers the scars.”
“For the sake of Thor’s hammer.” She fanned her face.
“What?” he asked, all beautiful innocence.
“Nothing.” But she couldn’t stop picturing his suit and dress shirt off and her examining each of his scars while he told her the story of each one. Please help my stray thoughts, she prayed, sadly without much faith. Her mama and daddy watching her from heaven would not be pleased.
“You know who I am?” he asked.
“Of course.” She looked him over. “Everybody knows who Quill Chadwick is. You’re a household name, a legend.”
He chuckled and she loved the low, deep tenor of it. “No, I’m not.”
“To hockey fans you are.”
“Oh.” His slow, sexy grin seemed to light her up. “And are you a hockey fan, Miss …”
“Cora, Cora Nelson.” She stuck out her hand as it seemed the proper thing to do.
His grin widened and he took her hand in his and held it. “Nice to meet you Miss Cora Nelson. You’re a hockey fan?”
She took her hand back, though she didn’t want to. “Yes, I am.”
“What’s your favorite team?” He folded his arms across his chest and casually leaned against the restaurant entry, as if he had all day to talk to her. He looked so appealing, confident, and comfortable she wished she could bottle the tough-guy elegance he radiated. Was that an oxymoron? Tough guy and elegant? It sure fit Quill Chadwick.
“Boston Bruins,” she replied, trying to hide her smile. She did love the Bruins but she loved the Avalanche too. “Josh Porter is the toughest man I know.”
He tilted his head and then shook it. “He knows how to throw a punch that’s for sure.” He touched his jaw as if remembering. “How do you know Josh?”
“I inter …” Her mouth clamped shut. She’d interviewed Josh a couple of years ago as Pepper. She did not need Quill to put two and two together. He’d probably make sure she was kicked out of the wedding party and the valley. Not that Quill had ever attacked her or even Kris. He’d been a class act on every talk show Cora had watched him on as her own career dissolved when Kris claimed her own innocence and Pepper took the fallout with the American public. Luckily Todd Plowman had gone to prison.
“Excuse me,” she managed. “I was interested in him back in college.”
He nodded. “You went to UMass?”
“No, Harvard.” She smiled weakly. At least she could tell the truth about college. What had Mavyn gotten her into and why had she agreed? She hated lying and here she was going to have to lie to him about everything. Please forgive me, she asked all of her heavenly parents. “Close by though.”
His brow wrinkled and she wondered if he knew they were over an hour and a half driving distance, but he didn’t say anything. “Bruins, huh?” His gaze went slowly over her face. “I guess everybody has to have one fault.”
She needed something to lean against as her legs went weak with the power of that glance. She stuttered backward and came up with nothing, almost tripping off her own heels. Quill darted across the space between them and grabbed her around the waist. Her hands grasped his firm arms and she was having a hard time breathing being so close to him. The one man that she could never allow herself to be interested in seemed to be the very man who made her heart race, her body long to be closer to, and her mind want to flirt with. Fate definitely had a wry sense of humor.
Keep reading Only Her Hockey Legend here.
Her Billionaire Boss Fake Fiance
Slipping on a patch of black ice, Lexi cried out, wind-milled her arms, and skidded over the asphalt. She prayed she wouldn’t fall. The low thrum of an engine rolled over her as a single headlight flashed across her vision. Lexi screamed, horrified to see a motorcycle flying right at her. She was still skidding on the ice, trying to stay upright. If she fell, the motorcycle would run her over without even seeing her until it was too late. She shuffled on the ice, trying desperately to get out of the way and hoping her waving arms might warn the driver.
The cyclist must’ve seen her and clenched the brakes hard, because she heard a yell and saw the huge bike lift onto its front tire. Then the motorcycle hit the patch of ice, and Lexi launched herself out of the way as it skidded onto its side. Her feet slid out from under her and she hit the ice with her knees and hands. Pain spiked up her arms and thighs. She felt a rush of wind, and then—miraculously—the motorcycle skidded past her, metal screeching against ice and asphalt. The machine slid to a stop at the curb twenty feet away, minus its rider, who lay sprawled on the cold asphalt, not far from Lexi.
“No, no, no!” Lexi cried out. She crawled across the patch of ice, praying the person wasn’t dead and praying no other vehicles came along and finished them both off.