“You’re on the list,” the guard noted. “Hangar two.” He directed me through the gate.
“Thank you,” I told him and then followed his directions, turning right to get to the hangar Lukas’ jet usually parked at when he flew in from the States.
“Relax,” Tage sighed. “Coach said I could manage a couple of classes. Besides, I’m only looking at a year or two here. Then maybe I can transfer to an American school. From there it’s four years and a college education before I get drafted into the NHL.”
My heart swelled. “Now that would be something I would whole-heartedly support. I’m so damn proud of you, Tage.”
“Oh, come on, don’t get all watery,” Tage teased. “Where are you, anyway?”
“At the airport to pick up Lukas.” Usually I would have told my peacock of a best friend to drive himself from the airport, but he’d never directly asked me to pick him up before.
“He’s in? Really? I thought he was deep in preparation for the season? I heard that new team is going to be insane. Or at least they will be once they lock down a center—wait…”
“Don’t go there.” I shook my head even though I knew he couldn’t see me.
“Oh, come on! You know that’s why he’s coming in. The NHL is calling!” Tage whooped.
I parked my Rover next to the hangar as Lukas’ jet touched down. “A member of an NHL team is always calling. Don’t look so far into it. Now, get some rest. You’ve got the Nyström name on your jersey, so you’d better do it proud.”
“Proud enough to pound on you when the season starts.”
I grinned as Lukas’ jet taxied toward us. “You went to the wrong team if you think you’re going to take me down.”
“Yeah, yeah. All jabs aside, have fun with Lukas. Relax a little, would you? You’re finally an empty-nester!”
“Goodbye, Tage.” I hung up on my little brother and climbed out of the Rover as my cell rang again, this time Lukas’ face appearing on the screen. “Why the hell are you calling me from a hundred meters away? I’m literally staring at your damned jet.”
“Right,” my best friend said slowly. “So about that…”
I leaned back against the warm hood of my car. “About what?”
“Have fun and say yes!” He hung up on me as the plane parked.
I looked down at my phone, blinking a few times in complete confusion. A breeze ripped across me, and I shoved my phone into the back pocket of my pants, then secured my hair with a tie from the pocket of my jacket.
My sunglasses cut most of the glare from the morning sun as the door opened to Lukas’ jet, then the staff lowered his staircase. Not only was the guy a high-paid NHL star, but he was also a pretty-boy model who now had his own clothing line and the jet to go with it. Good thing I loved the asshole like a brother, or I would have ceaselessly mocked him for the tailored dress clothes. Oh, who was I kidding, I still mocked him.
But I had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t on that fucking jet.
It took every muscle in my face to keep my jaw from dropping when she stepped into the doorway.
No fucking way. I was hallucinating. Had to be.
I compared the vision walking toward me with my memory.
Mile-long legs built to wrap around me? Check.
A waist so small I could almost span it with my hand? Check.
Curves meant to be tested and stroked by my hands? Check that, too.
But thinner than I remembered, which gave me a moment of concern as her kitten heels reached the bottom of the staircase. Paler, too.
She adjusted her jacket, which she’d thrown across her shoulders like some kind of retro movie star, then moved her handbag to her elbow and walked my way, determination in every step of that long, graceful stride.
Still, maybe this was all a dream, or maybe that woman just looked a lot like—
She popped her oversized sunglasses on top of her head, right in front of that pile of ebony hair that made my damned palms sweat, and looked at me with big, brown eyes that would have brought me to my knees if I wasn’t using my car as a crutch.
“Langley Pierce,” I said slowly, sliding my own sunglasses down my nose so I could see her without the filter. There was nothing about this woman that needed one. She was simple, classic, refined perfection.
“Okay, so can you sign this fucking contract, or what?”
With the mouth of a sailor.
I grinned, and she quickly lowered her sunglasses, then folded her arms across her chest. “Nice to see you, too, Langley. Too bad I was expecting Lukas.”
Her pretty pink lips parted. “I’m sorry?”
“I. Was. Expecting. Lukas. I know my English isn’t perfect, but I thought that was pretty clear.” I tilted my head as I looked down at her. She was beautifully tall, but at six-six, I still towered over her.
“He didn’t tell you I was coming?” She spoke every word with the slow, careful deliberation of a publicist. Because that’s exactly what she was. The woman held in her reactions for a living, and as of a couple of months ago, she now worked for the newest team in the NHL, the Carolina Reapers.
“Nope.” I shook my head.
I watched her mentally compose herself in the tiny adjustments of her hands, the gentle shift of her weight.
“Ms. Pierce?” A staff member brought her single suitcase forward.
“Thank you so very much, Michael. It was a lovely flight.” She smiled at the guy, and my brows drew together.
Where the hell was my smile?
“It’s always a pleasure, Ms. Pierce. You just let us know when you’re ready to head back, and we’ll be here. Well, in a hotel, but you get the picture.”
She thanked him and then stared up at me as he walked away.
“You have no clue why I’m here, do you?” she asked with a sigh.
“My guess would be it has something to do with a contract for fucking.” I walked past her to grab her suitcase.
“I did not say that!” she snapped.
“I did miss that temper of yours,” I told her with a smile as I walked her suitcase to the back of my Rover and popped the hatch on the trunk. A moment later I had her suitcase secured and the trunk closed.
“You really don’t know, do you?” she asked again, this time softly.
Everything in Langley’s world was orderly, controlled, proper, and measured. Something like the little stunt Lukas had just played on us both was going to send her type A personality into type AAA.
“I don’t,” I answered equally as soft. “Why don’t you get in?”
“You don’t even know where I’m going. You don’t even know why I’m here.” She opened the back door of the Rover and threw her jacket in, leaving her sculpted shoulders bare in a sleeveless silk blouse over tailored trousers.
“Leave it to you to fly halfway around the world and still look like a million bucks.”
Her face jerked toward mine, but the glasses obscured her reaction.
“I have no clue where you’re going, but I’ll take you there,” I continued.
“Lukas said I could stay at his place.” She licked her lips nervously.
“Did he?” I asked with a grin.