He would have waited forever to see her smile at him again, but she didn’t give him the chance.
Leo looked down to find that he’d balled up the empty white bag and was squeezing it so hard that his knuckles were white. Funny thing—he hadn’t realized that after all this time he was still angry. What was the point of that? It was a long time ago. And he knew Georgia had had her reasons. He’d known it even then, but he’d still been mad.
“Does it hurt?” Georgia asked suddenly.
Hell yes, he nearly answered. But then he realized she was referring to his face, not his heart. “It’s fine. Looks worse than it is.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He turned to look at her, forcing her to do the same. Georgia’s sweet eyes were so tentative. He hated that. They never used to be uncomfortable with each other. Not Georgia and Leo. That’s not how it was supposed to be. “I’m sorry, too,” he said finally. “I’ll bet you wish your father would hurry up and trade my ass.”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. “I want you to get your shot, Leo. You deserve it.”
“Guess I shouldn’t kiss the boss’s daughter, then.”
She gave him a small, secret smile. “I guess you’d better not.”
There it was. The rejection. Ouch. Kissing her like that had been a loopy thing to do, though. Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way—he was lucky Georgia hadn’t hit him herself. Just like his gaffe at the press conference, it was a dumb-ass, hotheaded thing to do. “Lesson learned,” he said, keeping his tone ten times lighter than he really felt.
Georgia turned to look out the window again. As she did, he could swear she looked a little disappointed. But that was probably only wishful thinking.
ELEVEN
A six-day road trip with Leo aboard? Pure torture.
Even worse—they’d been assigned adjacent rooms at the first hotel in Denver. After a noon skate, the team went back to the hotel to rest. Georgia spotted Leo from the end of the hallway, letting himself into what turned out to be room 614. But the time she passed his door, it was already closed.
But she was hyper aware of him during her short stay in room 615. Georgia used the hour of downtime to return some e-mail. Sitting against the headboard, her computer in her lap, she couldn’t stop listening to the stillness of the room beside hers, wondering if he was stretched out on the bed . . .
Gah. An overactive imagination was not what she needed right now.
But it was all too easy to imagine Leo on a hotel bed. The fall of their senior year in high school, Leo had been so bold as to reserve a room for the two of them on homecoming night. They couldn’t sleep there, of course. Neither her dad nor Leo’s parents would have allowed it. But they left the dance early, sneaking out the side door of the gym so that their friends wouldn’t complain that they’d ditched. That had given them three unforgettable hours before curfew.
They’d barely made it inside the room at the Motor Inn before they were all over each other. Leo had pushed her up against the door, his hard body demanding her attention, his mouth all over her. Maybe it was the unaccustomed privacy. Maybe it was their eighteen-year-old hormones. But the two of them had been wild that night. She’d removed his tie with feverish fingers, and he’d unzipped her dress as if it was on fire.
Stumbling out of their clothes, they’d barely made it onto the bed before Leo was inside her. When he’d pinned her hands to the bedspread, she’d moaned loudly enough to be heard across the Long Island Sound. There was no shyness between them—only loud, encouraging gasps.
Looking back, it was astonishing how utterly unselfconscious Georgia had been in her foolish youth. After a couple of minutes of eager thrusting, he’d rolled the two of them over, leaving her on top. “I’ll last longer,” he’d panted. “Ride me.”
She had, while he watched with a sexy gleam in his eyes, his hands cupping her breasts, his full lips muttering dirty, encouraging words. Then he’d skimmed a hand down her belly, lowering his fingertips right to . . .
Arrrrrgh. Georgia stared, unseeing, at the same paragraph she’d been trying to write for ten minutes. She wasn’t getting any work done. So she gave up and went to take a shower, instead.
* * *
That night, the team doctor benched Leo just as a precaution. Georgia watched his face fall when the doctor delivered the verdict. “We can’t have you take a hit tonight and develop symptoms of concussion,” he’d stressed. “One night of caution is crucial.”
Leo watched the game from a seat behind the penalty box, his jaw set tightly. Georgia could see his displeasure all the way from the press box. The team won 2–1 with a lucky breakaway in the third period, which Denver couldn’t answer in the remaining two minutes of the game.
Afterward, while Georgia was handling the reporters who had waited to get a few minutes with O’Doul, Leo slipped away with some teammates, probably to a bar.
That night Georgia lay awake in her hotel room bed. Sleep wouldn’t come to her because Leo hadn’t returned to the hotel yet. It was past midnight. Where was he? She pictured him in a club somewhere, dancing with a female fan. Maybe the girl invited him over . . .
She rolled over, annoyed. Torturing herself was not healthy, damn it. And maybe he’d snuck in and gone to sleep next door. Maybe she was killing herself for nothing.
Finally she heard the click of his hotel room lock and the closing of the door again. Feeling like the worst kind of snoop, Georgia held her breath, listening. To her immense relief, there were no voices. Leo had come back alone. And after some plumbing sounds, she heard the television. She fell asleep to the voice of a late night comedian.
* * *
The next morning, the team decamped for Phoenix.
After a full practice at the arena, they checked into another hotel. This one lay on sprawling grounds and boasted several swimming pools. It was forty degrees warmer here than in Brooklyn.
But again she and Leo had adjoining rooms. There were two differences. This time, they were on the eleventh floor. And this time Leo noticed. “Hi, neighbor,” he said mildly as they opened their side-by-side doors.
“Hey there.” She swiped her key card and pushed into her hotel room, her heart dancing the cha-cha. The universe was clearly out to make her crazy.
Or maybe it wasn’t the universe’s fault.
Georgia dropped her rolling duffel. Grabbing her phone, she tossed her handbag on the bed. Then she went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Her roommate answered on the first ring. “George! Are you enjoying your hotel stays so far?”
“Becca!” she hissed. “Do you monkey with the hotel room reservations after the travel team makes them?”