His smile sends a bolt of heat straight to my girl parts. “You succeeded. But even with the wig and baggy clothes, I thought you were beautiful.”
Heat unfurls in my chest. “Thank you.” I duck my head and take another sip.
“Hello, Emerie.”
I turn to see one of Vince’s business partners. “Hi, Zev,” I say, and we exchange air kisses on the cheek. “How are you?”
“Very well, thanks.” His gaze moves to Owen.
I make the introduction.
“You play for the Bears,” Zev says.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“That was an amazing goal in the shoot out last week.”
Owen smiles. “Thanks. I hate shoot outs.”
“You looked pretty comfortable.”
I listen to their hockey talk. I guess this is what it’s like to date a hockey player. Hockey bores the socks off me, but I got myself into this, so I hang on Owen’s every word, smiling and nodding.
We mingle a bit more. I make sure Roman sees us. And Vince. I stand close to Owen, fasten my gaze to his face, and lean in to whisper in his ear.
It’s not that hard. He smells amazing. I’d like to press my nose to his neck and inhale him for about an hour. It’s also quite enjoyable when he smiles down at me, his cobalt blue eyes warm and the skin around his eyes crinkling up attractively. He’s good at this.
I don’t think he can talk about anything but hockey, though. In fairness, everyone we meet wants to talk about that with him. I’d like to talk about Broadway plays or concerts or the police trying to arrest street performers who had a right to be there. Nobody wants to talk about that. Just me.
So I listen to a lot of hockey talk. Most of it goes over my head. I have to admit Owen sounds knowledgeable, and he’s very well-spoken.
“I think we’ve been here long enough,” I finally say to him when we’re alone. “You can head out if you like.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Make sure Cat’s in bed. Have a snack and maybe watch a movie.”
He nods slowly.
I press my fingertips to my chin. “You don’t want to…join me, do you?” I’m sure he doesn’t.
“Sure.”
I blink. “Okay.”
“Will your stepdad freak out about me being in your room?”
“He’ll never know.” I roll my eyes. “His suite is on the other side of the apartment. He rarely comes to our rooms.”
“That’s…sad.” We start walking toward the kitchen. “Not so much for you, I guess, but your sister…she’s still little.”
“Yeah. It sucks. He’s a dick.”
“No love lost between you two.”
“Sadly, no. I mean, well, we can talk more in a minute.”
I stop again in the kitchen and fill up a plate with some of the party goodies—beef wellington wontons, antipasto skewers, crostini with almonds, bacon, and cheese. I grab a few paper napkins and throw Owen a look over my shoulder. “Sure you don’t want a beer?”
“No, thanks.”
I shrug and grab one for myself. Together, we carry everything to my room. I leave him to pop back to Cat’s room. She’s still watching TV.
“Hey, Kitty Cat, what are you doing? It’s way past bedtime.”
She heaves a sigh and turns off the TV. “Fine.”
She’s in her pajamas, so she knows. She’s just pushing as long as she can until I come in. I smile. This is a far cry from her behavior years ago. “G’night,” I say, kissing the top of her head when she’s in bed. “I love you. See you in the morning.”
“Night, Em. I love you, too.”
A wave of affection floods me as I leave.
I hesitate before entering my room again. There’s a man in my room. A big, sexy, delicious-smelling man. This is…unusual. My belly flutters, and I press a hand there. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
Other than I now have a fake boyfriend I don’t even really know and a pissed-off stepfather.
I open the door and step in. And freeze.
Sweet baby deity. Owen has removed his suit jacket and tie and undone the top buttons of his shirt. He has the remote in one hand, aimed at my TV, and he looks right at home. Glancing up, he says, “Hey.”
“Hey.”
I start toward him. “It occurs to me that you know my secret.”
He’s watching me with attentive, hot eyes. He likes what he sees. And I like that. This feeling is unfamiliar to me. “What do you mean?”
“My busking.”
His chin lifts. “Ah. Your stepdad doesn’t know about that.”
“Nope. He’d die if he found out.”
“Doubtful.” He watches me sit on the other end of the couch from him.
I tuck some hair behind my ear, my belly fluttering even more now, my skin heating. “Well, he’d be pissed.”
“So what?” Then he narrows his eyes, and his shoulders stiffen. “Does he hurt you?”
“No!” I shake my head vehemently. “No, he’s never touched us. Mostly he ignores us. But he doesn’t like things that make him look bad.”
“Okay,” he says quietly, visibly relieved.
“He’d be embarrassed. It’s just easier if he doesn’t know. You wouldn’t say anything to him, would you?”
His eyebrows jerk down. “Of course not, if you don’t want me to.”
“Whew. Okay, thanks.”
“Why do you do that?” He gazes at me, curiosity lighting his blue eyes. “You obviously don’t need the money.”
“It’s not about the money for me. It’s a way for me to make music.”
“Hmm.” He contemplates me wordlessly for a moment. “You’re really talented.”
I try to accept the compliment. “Thanks.”
He looks like wants to say more, but doesn’t, still contemplating me with focused intensity.
“Have some food,” I squeak, waving at the plate on the table.
He eyes the food. “No, thanks.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“I follow a pretty strict diet during the season.”
I run my gaze over his muscular body. “I’d think you could eat whatever you want.”
One corner of his mouth hooks up. “It’s not about putting on weight. It’s about being healthy.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“So, what’s next?”
“Next?”
“Our next date.”
“Oh.” My heart quavers. “Right.”
“You can come to my game Saturday night.”
My jaw loosens. “Uh…I don’t really like hockey.”
His lips twitch. “Maybe you should learn, if we’re dating?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Damn.”
“That would impress Vince.”
“Impress? Not sure about that.”
“I mean, it would convince him that we’re a thing.”
“I guess it would, yeah.” I sigh.
He hoists a thick eyebrow. “It’s not that torturous. Hockey’s fun. And we’re doing this for you.”
I straighten. “You are absolutely right. You’re putting your job on the line. The least I can do is go to a hockey game.”