A devilish look flickered across his face. “Why did you look at my dick when you said the word hard?”
“Oh, my God. I didn’t.”
“You totally did. You’re still looking.”
Well, yeah, now she was. And heat spilled over her cheeks when she realized he was totally sporting a semi. The second she noticed it, her nipples grew even harder.
“It’s cool, we’ll just pretend you’re not ogling me.” He winked. “Anyway, I just realized there is no hard way. Because this is pretty fucking easy. You want to say yes to that drink.”
Hayden bit her bottom lip. He was right, damn it. Despite every single logical objection in her head, she did want to say yes.
“Better hurry up and say it, though,” Brody teased. “Because your father seems to be nearing the end of his conversation—yup, he’s shaking Stan’s hand now. Which means he’ll get back here just in time to hear you say yes, and then he’ll ask you what you’re saying yes to, and I’m sure neither one of us wants to open that can of worms.”
She turned her head and, sure enough, her father was walking toward them. Great. Although she knew her dad could handle the knowledge that his twenty-six-year-old daughter wasn’t a virgin, she didn’t want him privy to her sex life. Especially a sex life that involved one of his players.
Her dad might be totally obsessed with his team, but he always warned her about the turbulent nature of hockey players. The latest warning came during her last visit, when she’d been hit on by an opposing player after a Warriors game. She’d declined the dinner invitation, but it hadn’t stopped Presley from launching into a speech about how he didn’t want his daughter dating “brutes.”
If he knew she’d spent the night with Brody Croft, it would just add to his stress.
“So how about that drink, Hayden?”
Her pulse quickened when she realized if she agreed to Brody’s request, chances were they wouldn’t get around to the drink anyway. The second he had her alone, he’d be slipping his hands underneath her shirt, palming her breasts, sucking on her neck the way he’d done last night, as he’d slid inside her and—
“One drink,” she blurted, then chastised herself for yet again letting her hormones override her common sense. What was wrong with her?
With a soft chuckle, Brody rested his hands on his trim hips, the poster boy for cool. He grinned. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
NINE
The Lakeshore Lounge was one of those rare bars in the city that offered an intimate atmosphere rather than a loud, intrusive one. Plush, comfortable chairs and sleek wood-top tables were situated far enough apart that patrons could enjoy their drinks in privacy, and a pale yellow glow took the place of bright lighting. It was also one of the only establishments that still adhered to a strict dress code—blazers required.
It was a damn good thing he was Brody Croft, though. Even better that Ward Dalton, the owner of the lounge, claimed to be his number-one fan and turned a blind eye to Brody’s casual attire when he and Hayden arrived.
Dalton led them across the black marble floor to a secluded table in the corner of the room, practically hidden from view by two enormous stone pots containing leafy indoor palms. A waiter clad in black pants and a white button-down appeared soon after, taking their drink orders before unobtrusively moving away.
Brody didn’t miss the baffled look on Hayden’s gorgeous face. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“No. I’m just...surprised. When you said we were going for a drink, I thought...” Her cheeks turned an appealing shade of pink. “Forget it.”
“You thought I’d drive you right back to your hotel and pick up where we left off?”
“Pretty much.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
She bristled at the teasing lilt of his voice. “I’m not disappointed. In fact, I’m glad. Like I said, I’m not interested in getting involved.”
He didn’t like the finality of her tone. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why Hayden didn’t want a repeat performance of last night. They’d been so good together.
He also couldn’t decide whether she’d known who he was all along. Her father was Presley Houston, for chrissake. She didn’t need to like hockey to know who the players were, especially the players on her own father’s team. And yet, the shock on her face when she’d bumped into him outside the locker room hadn’t seemed contrived. He’d glimpsed authentic surprise. Not to mention a flicker of dismay.
No, she couldn’t have known. It wouldn’t bother her this much if she had.
He appreciated that she liked the man and not the hockey player, but that only raised another question. What was holding her back from getting involved with him? Was it the fact that he played pro hockey, or was it something else? Someone else?
His jaw tightened at the thought. “What exactly is stopping you from pursuing this?” he asked in a low voice. “It’s more than Presley’s current problems, isn’t it?”
The way she stared at the silk cocktail napkin on the table as if it were the most fascinating item on the planet deepened Brody’s suspicions.
He narrowed his eyes. “Is there a husband waiting for you in California?”
Her gaze flew up to meet his. “Of course not.”
Some of the suspicion thawed, but not entirely. “A fiancé?”
She shook her head.
“A boyfriend?”
The blush on her cheeks deepened. “No. I mean, yes. Well, kind of. I was seeing someone in San Francisco, but we’re currently on a break.”
“The kind of break where you can sleep with other people?”
“As I keep telling you, my life is complicated,” she said pointedly. “I’m in the process of making some serious decisions, figuring out what my future looks like.”
He opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the waiter, who returned with their drinks. The waiter set down Brody’s gin and tonic and Hayden’s glass of white wine, then left without delay, as if sensing something was brewing between them.
“And this boyfriend,” Brody said thoughtfully. “Do you see him in your future?”
