Misconduct (Hot Ice series Book 6) (4 page)

Whatever the hell it was that Mike was lacking, Dustin had
it in bucket loads. He practically oozed masculinity and that was a dangerous
thing for a sex-starved woman like me. Especially when he was so damn full of
himself and such an egotistical pig.

“Only when your sweet cheeks were turned my way down at the
bar, I could have sworn I saw the outline of a keycard in your pocket, like the
ones they use in this hotel.” He shrugged. “You know, through the material.”

Flustered, I tapped my butt. Sure enough, I felt the
credit-card-sized bit of plastic through my tight black pants and suddenly
remembered shoving it in there on my way into the bar.

“Oh, yes, thanks,” I said, retrieving it.

He stepped a little closer.

I backed up to prevent my nose from hitting his chest. My
shoulders lodged against the wall.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, dismayed that my
voice had come out so timid like, because he wasn’t intimidating.

Not one bit.

He stared into my eyes and swallowed tightly.

I waited for the rant to begin about my huge, colossal
mistake at suggesting starting Jackson Price in a game against the Rangers.

“Help me with something?” he repeated quietly. “Yes, I guess
you can.”

“What?” My purse and the key slipped to the floor, but I
didn’t bother to reach for them. I was becoming lost in him. In his dark eyes,
in that delicious cologne he wore, and the shape of his bottom lip, its slight
imperfection. I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d be like to kiss.

No, damn it. I pushed away. Determined to stop all these
foolish thoughts about a man who presumed it was okay to call his boss sweet
cheeks. He was just annoying, annoying and, I had to admit, damn sexy.

“Where you going?” he asked, pressing into me with his body
and flattening his palms on either side of me on the wall.

“To my room.” I too pushed my hands against the flocked
wallpaper, it was that or rest them on his chest and I didn’t want to do that.
“It’s late.”

“Now there’s a word,” he said. “Late, because it’s too damn
late for us to win tonight, isn’t it? That chance has been and gone.”

“I guess that’s the name of the game.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to use that excuse. You know damn well
why we lost.”

I tightened my lips.

“You just won’t admit it, not to me anyway,” he said.

“What do you want me to say?” I tilted my chin.

“That you were wrong. That you should never have put the
stupid idea of Jackson Price starting into Mike’s lovesick head.”

“Well I did, and it’s done now. Mike and I will both take
responsibility for it. Ramrod too, he was involved in the discussion, and we’ve
all learned from it.” I frowned. “And Mike is not lovesick.”

He dipped his head lower and his breath washed over me.
“I’ve been watching you all evening in the bar. You have them all wrapped
around your cute little finger, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah you do. One woman, a room full of men. You just played
them all tonight, working your way around the room, flirting, smiling,
drinking, looking good enough to eat.”

Good enough to eat?

“I was not flirting,” I said indignantly. “And besides, I
wasn’t the only woman in there, but I was the only one working. Debriefing.”

“That’s what you call it, eh?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Vadmir would happily take you to his lair. I just watched him trying to get
you drunk. Have you any idea what he’d do to a little girl like you? He’d have
you for supper, chew you up and spit you out.”

“Two shots does not make me drunk, and besides, I wouldn’t
exactly be interested in Vadmir or in any chewing up and…and spitting out.”

“Two shots
and
two glasses of wine.”

“Oh, you
were
watching me, weren’t you?”

“I don’t deny that. And why wouldn’t you be interested in
Vadmir?”

“He’s not my type.”

His mouth twitched, as if he were holding in a smile. “What
is your type?”

I was beginning to wish I wasn’t having this conversation
hemmed in by a man who was physically just my type. It was making thinking
awkward and my brain had been a little fudged anyway from drink.

“Not a hockey player,” I said. “I don’t want to be like
those girls who throw themselves at you, leave lipstick on your cheek and wear
hotpants that show the crease of their asses.”

“Damn shame that. They’d suit you, those hotpants. Perhaps
I’ll buy you a pair for when you give your next little pregame pep talk. That’d
get pulses racing. Get the guys ready for action, you know what I mean?”

Okay, now he’d gone too far. He was completely forgetting
who he was talking to. I pushed at his chest and gave a good shove to get him
out of my way.

He didn’t budge.

“Move,” I said.

“No.”

I glared up at him, pushed again but he didn’t shift. Damn,
I wished he would, my body was starting to respond to his nearness. My breasts
were aching, there was a definite hum between my legs—why the hell were my
hormones being so traitorous?

I shoved again with no luck.

“I said no,” he repeated. “Not until you admit something.”

I sighed and stilled. I couldn’t move someone as solid as a
slab of concrete. “Admit what?”

He lowered his head so that his mouth was by my ear and his
chin touched my jawline when he spoke. “Admit that you want me…sweet cheeks.”

I bunched his shirt in my hands. His breath had sent a wave
of sensation down my neck and over my scalp.

Want
him
. No.

His body. Oh yes. I could have some fun with that.

“Why the hell would you think I want you?” I whispered,
studying the way his short hair was neatly clipped around his ear.

“Maybe because right now you’re physically hanging on to me.
Maybe because you didn’t go off with Vadmir or Mike tonight, you came to bed
alone, hoping I would follow.”

“No, I didn’t, that’s ridiculous, I…”

“What?” He looked into my eyes, his nose just an inch from
mine. “You what, Miss Gunner?”

“I didn’t hope you’d follow. You annoy the hell out of me.”
I frowned, but as I did so my lips puckered, and I moved my head a little
nearer to his. The urge to feel his mouth on mine was becoming overwhelming.

“And you annoy the fuck out of me,” he said, also drawing a
fraction nearer. “Not least because you lost us the game tonight.”

“I didn’t,” I whispered.

He kind of growled and a tug in my belly told me that noise
turned me the hell on, even though I knew it shouldn’t.

“And,” he murmured, “you annoy me because you won’t admit
you need me.”

I was a little breathless. He was stealing my breath and my
rational thoughts. His rich, low voice was almost hypnotic. “I don’t need you.”

“Yeah, you do.”

His mouth hit down on mine and he yanked me close. It was a
kiss that was ravenous and furious and made my head spin. I was trapped in his
arms, feeding him kiss for kiss. Our tongues at war and our teeth touching as
he slanted his head to drive deeper.

I wanted to climb up him, get in him, have him in me. Fuck,
the guy could kiss as well as he could stop a puck. It was intoxicating and a
sudden desperation to get naked stormed through me.

“Dustin,” I managed against his mouth.

He was panting, so was I.

“What?”

“We should—” I said, glancing at my room door.

“No.” He released me as suddenly as he’d grabbed me and I
faltered for a second to regain my balance. “No, we should do nothing.” He
flicked his hand between us. The teasing humor had left his eyes, now they were
cloudy, defensive. “Fucking nothing. Nothing at all.”

Oh God, he regretted the hottest kiss I’d ever had.

Well, that was okay, because I regretted it too. Even though
I could taste him, feel him. Even though my blood was boiling for him. I
regretted it.

Didn’t I?

He crowded me again, backing me into the wall. His lips were
shiny and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.

I didn’t speak, just stared up at his rugged, flushed face
and wondered what the heck was going on.

“One day soon,” he said, his mouth almost touching mine and
his body pressing into my chest. “You willadmit that not only do you
want me but also that you need me.”

I parted my lips, wanting his tongue, needing his heat and
taste. Oh God, my head was spinning with it all—lust, confusion, desire, hell
to the consequences.

“And I’m not talking about your bed,” he said gruffly, “I
mean on the goddamn ice.”

Suddenly he pushed away, turned and strode down the
corridor.

I watched him go with a sense of acute disappointment mixing
with fury.

How dare he? Just because I had a moment of madness thinking
I might do dirty deeds with his athletically honed body, it didn’t mean I was
prepared to sign on the dotted line for another multimillion-dollar contract.

Manipulative bastard.

The trip back to Orlando was uneventful. I sat as far from
Dustin as physically possible on the plane and made a point of escaping the
rush of the airport without saying goodbye to anyone. I wanted to be alone.

Alone and in Dad’s air-conditioned, peaceful house away from
the damn Vipers. Because, damn it, who would have thought one of the wily
snakes could have almost charmed his way into my bed during my first few weeks
in control.

God knows what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped it.
Or was it the other way ’round? Had
he
stopped it? My memory was a
little fuddled. Shots didn’t suit me and neither did wine on an empty stomach.
If I hadn’t been halfway to being drunk there was no way I would have kissed
such a bad-mannered man. No, that was wrong, let him kiss me, because I really
hadn’t had a choice, he’d backed me into a wall and devoured me. That’s what I
remembered anyway.

The trouble was whenever I thought about his lips on mine
and his big body pressing into me, a quiver started in my belly. It traveled up
to my chest, causing my nipples to tingle, and it also shot heat down to the
juncture of my thighs, making me press my legs together and clench my internal
muscles.

It wasn’t that I liked him—Dustin—it was just that I liked
the thought of what he could do to me. Jesus, if just the memory of a kiss had
me buzzing, imagine if we were together for real, doing the deed, fucking. It
would be off the scale.

But that was never going to happen. So with a handle on what
was going on with the team finances, I decided to head to the island and see my
father. I’d nearly lost him a month ago, and that fear, that heart-twisting
dread on the flight back from Paris thinking that I might be organizing his
funeral was still weighing heavily on me. So if there was a chance to go and
spend some time with him, even if
she
was there, then that was what I
should do. Plus it would give me the chance to catch up with him about some of
the money-saving ideas I had for the Vipers.

I organized for Clifford, Dad’s driver, to pick me up and
take me to the small private airfield we used. It wasn’t far and I made a few
phone calls on the way. Let Mike know I was out of town and also called my
mother, checked in that she was recovering okay from her latest round of
plastic surgery. It seemed being single again had sparked a need for a total
body revamp. She’d been beautiful before but who was I to judge?

I made it to the small, out-of-town airfield in good time,
but unfortunately the plane was delayed and I ended up hanging around in the
empty departure lounge sipping from a water bottle and reading my Kindle.

My cell rang and I glanced at the screen, wondering who it
could be. It flashed up Henri’s name and a picture of him standing on the wall
around the glass pyramid at the Louvre.

I smiled and hit answer. It had been weeks since I’d heard
his sexy French accent.

“
Bonjour
,
Henri
,” I said.

“Ah, Gina, how are you? It has been so long. My ’eart is
breaking.”

I smiled and pictured his handsome, expressive face. “I’m
sure your
’eart
is just fine, Henri, but it is nice to know you care.”

“I do care. I was calling to see how you are, and your poor
papa, how is he?”

“Doing well, home from hospital and taking it easy.” Out of
the corner of my eye I saw a vehicle pull up in the adjacent private lot, a large
black wagon. I turned from the brightness of the window and paced beside a row
of plush red chairs. “It’s keeping me busy though, sorting out his business
affairs.”

“But you like to be busy, no?”

“Yes, I guess. What about you?”

“Ah, that is why I am calling,
ma
cherie
. I
have exciting news.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Wow, you got that job in Reims?”

“No, no, I didn’t want it, they want me, I say no. I am a
Paris boy, how could I leave?”

I heard the automatic door whoosh behind me, glanced at the
screen to my left and saw that my father’s plane was just landing. Good, I’d
soon be on my way.

“What is it, Henri? You have me all excited.”

“You remember Marie, the girl from the café?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we are to be married, next month.”

“Married.” I felt as though I’d been gut-checked. Damn,
Henri and I had only been messing about, but really, within weeks of me dashing
back to the USA he was getting married, to Marie, the girl I’d told him on
several occasions was always giving him the eye and following him around the
room with her gaze. Seemed she’d been biding her time for me to get out of the
picture and I had to give it to her, she’d nabbed her man with impressive speed
and precision.

“Gina, say something. You are not happy for me?” He sounded
worried. “You will be okay,
non
?”

“Yes, yes of course. Yes, I will.”

“You don’t sound it.”

“It’s just… It’s all so quick, you know, to meet, fall in
love and then get married so soon. You and I, we…” My words trailed off. “But
yes, that’s wonderful. I’m very happy. You will be a wonderful husband.”

“Thank you. It is the way of the ’eart sometimes, but you
know I will always love you,
oui
.”

“Yes, I know you love me and I love you, very much.” Henri
had always been free and easy with his declarations of love and devotion and
I’d found myself slipping into the same habit of announcing my love for
everyone when I was in Paris.

A rattle behind me made me jump, someone clanking a can out
of a vending machine.

“Ah, you have a special place in my soul, Gina,” Henri said,
“which is why I wanted to tell you and, of course, invite you to the wedding.”

“Well, it’s a long way, Paris, but you know I love it there.
I’ll need to make some arrangements though and speak to my father.”

“Ah, that makes me sad that you can’t say just yes, yes,
yes, but of course I understand. Your Papa must take priority and of course
your big new job.”

“Thanks, you know, for understanding.”

“But we will stay in touch,
oui
?”

“
Oui
.”

“And I do love you, you lit up many dark nights for me, my
beautiful American woman.”

I sighed and pushed my hand through my hair. “They were very
special nights, Henri, and I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

I ended the call, my heart aching but also not. Henri had
never really been mine, we’d been ships passing in the night. Fun party ships
who’d supplied what the other had needed. I hadn’t yearned for him when we’d
parted, or longed to hear his voice. Our kisses and our connection had been
fun, passionate to an extent, but not wild, not soul-achingly raw like that
kiss with Dustin. That had curled my toes, left me hollow and craving something
no amount of masturbation had been able to satisfy.

Reaching for my case, I turned. It was time to board the
Gunner jet.

My breath caught and for a moment I didn’t quite believe
what I was seeing. Standing by the door, swigging from a can of Coke, was
Dustin Reed.

“What the—?” I gasped.

He lowered his drink and narrowed his eyes at me.

“What the fucking hell are you doing here?” I demanded,
stalking up to him. Damn, why did all hockey players have to be so freakin’
tall?

“I’m getting on a plane to go see the guy who pays my
wages,” he said, looking down at me with a shrug. “I have some things to
discuss with him.”

“Like hell you do.” I shook my head and tried to stop a
tremble of anger racing across my body. “And like hell you
are
. This is
my plane,
our
plane. You can’t just catch a lift on it.”

“I’ve been given permission.”

“By who?”

“Mr. Gunner.”

“What?” Now I was so mad I could see little black dots
swimming in front of me. “When did you speak to my father? He’s supposed to be
taking it easy, not being hassled by annoying players.”

“Didn’t hassle, my agent emailed him a few days ago after
you brought up the subject of not renewing my contract. It was Mr. Gunner who proposed
that the best way for us to iron out any miscommunications was for me to hop on
his plane next time it was en route to the island and go talk it through
face-to-face.”

“What? That’s a pile of shit. My father would have told me.
I only spoke to him a few hours ago.”

Dustin dropped his shades over his eyes. “Well, I guess it
slipped his mind, huh?”

“No, it didn’t slip his mind. He didn’t know anything about
it. You’re not coming. I want some time with my father, who, can I remind you,
nearly died last month, and you being there, all…all…”

“All what?” He tipped his head and seemed to enjoy the fact
I was struggling to find the right words to describe him.

“All cocky and…” I wanted to say gorgeous, but that wasn’t
right. “Over-fucking-confident. It’s just not going to help.”

“Take a chill pill, will you? I’m only going to be there for
a few hours, and then I’ll head off and do a bit of sightseeing. Phoenix is
always raving about the harbor restaurants. Seems he and Brooke had a great
time when they visited the place.”

“You can’t stay for a few days. You have practice.” I rammed
my hands on my hips.

He gnawed the inside of his cheek and tossed his empty can
into a nearby bin. “Yeah, well, not much point practicing if I don’t have a
team to play for. Kind of figured that contract renewal takes priority. Having
a team next season is pretty vital in my world.”

“Miss Gunner, the captain has given the go-ahead.” A smartly
dressed woman walked up to us with a clipboard. “And I see the second passenger
has arrived.” She looked up at Dustin and I swear she actually fluttered her
eyelashes. “Mr. Gunner’s secretary rang ahead and told us to expect you, Mr.
Reed.”

“Please,” said Dustin, “call me Dustin.”

She giggled. “Okay, Dustin. I’m Angela. I’ll show you to the
plane, it’s only a short walk.”

Dustin nodded and wandered after her, his big strides casual
and unhurried as she tottered along in black patent heels.

Seriously. This couldn’t be happening. What the heck had I
done to deserve the most irritating player on the planet accompanying me on a
much-needed break?

Drat and double drat.

Within minutes I found myself sitting on a plane, for the
second time in as many days trying to avoid being near Dustin. It was kinda
hard on this one though, with only half a dozen seats and a small, narrow
fuselage.

I opted for my usual spot near the door and, much to my
annoyance, Dustin sat next to me. On the other side of the aisle admittedly,
but that was still too damn close.

After fastening my seatbelt, I rested my head back and let
the drone of the plane as it taxied onto the runway vibrate through me. I had
to calm down and keep my cool. I was beginning to think Dustin enjoyed seeing
me rattled. Hell, he’d provoked me enough times.

But this. Really? This was private time between me and my
father. I glanced at him and resisted a theatrical sigh even though it was how
I felt.

His bulk completely filled the seat and, despite the
generous legroom, he still couldn’t stretch his legs straight. I stared at his
big feet encased in black sneakers with a thin orange stripe above the sole.
Goodness only knew what size they were. Like me he wore jeans, though mine were
dark denim, brand new and skintight, his were worn and loose, faded on the
thighs and around the groin area, they had a small rip on the right knee.

“You want something, sweet cheeks?” he asked suddenly.

I looked up at his face. His eyes were twinkling and one
side of his mouth was curled up.

Damn, he’d caught me looking at his… “No, just checking that
your belt is done up.” I pointed at the sign above the pilot’s door. “When that
goes on like that it means take off is soon.”

“Ah, well, you don’t need to worry.” He plucked the thick
black strap that sat over a wide denim crease in his groin. “I’m all safe and
sound.”

“Good. Though we have you well insured—your body that is.”
As I spoke, the small plane suddenly kicked up a gear and hurtled forward. I
was pressed back in my seat and gripped the armrests. I was a seasoned
traveler, but still, takeoff always freaked me out.

“Though how effective a belt is during a plane crash is
negligible,” Dustin said.

“What?”

“I hear small planes are ten times more likely to crash than
big commercial ones, and really, is a thin bit of fabric gonna save you?”

“Why the hell would you say that?” I glared at him. “You’re
not even supposed to say the ‘c’ word when you’re on a plane.”

“What, crash?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “It’s bad luck.”

He shrugged and set about uncurling a pair of headphones.
“Just stating a fact.”

“Why, when we’re just about to…” I held my breath as the
plane lurched into the air. It seemed there was quite a side wind. “Shit, that
was a bit…” My stomach rolled.

“The forecast mentioned a weather front was coming. I reckon
this wind will be worse over the Gulf. I hope we land okay.”

I swallowed. Damn him. Now I had visions of us touching down
in a storm, rain and hail pelting the small plane, playing havoc with the
radar, the wings skimming the runway as we were blown and bounced around,
tipped left and right.

“Jesus, you really need to relax a bit, sweet cheeks,” he
said, staring at me. “You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out. What a jerk.

He rubbed his hand around his roughly stubbled jawline and
frowned. “Shit, sorry. I was forgetting about Mr. Gunner. I shouldn’t have said
that so…flippantly.”

I pursed my lips, turned away from him and stared out the
window. We were breaching the fluffy white clouds and bright blue was
dominating the horizon.