I sucked my bottom lip in between my teeth, so torn between wanting him and wanting him and wanting him…and being careful.
I’d been burnt before. Slept with guys who’d immediately told National Enquirer or Perez Hilton. I’d been young and na?ve. The fact that I was a “child star” probably made the media harder on me, because everyone still thought of me as sixteen years old. So I’d been determined to stand up for myself and defend a woman’s right to say yes to sex—because I was a woman.
It was funny, in a way. Usually women were talking about their right to say no. And don’t get me wrong, consent was a huge issue in my books.
But a woman had a right to say yes too, to freely embrace her sexual desires and actions, however and whenever she wanted, without being condemned. I’d decided no matter how public my sex life had become, I wasn’t going to be humiliated about expressing my sexuality. In fact, that shaped some of the songs for my next album.
But still…it all made me think twice before jumping into bed with someone. Because sex makes you vulnerable, in so very many ways, and I was already feeling pretty damn vulnerable with everything that had just happened in my life.
I leaned my forehead against Chase’s, my nose alongside his. We were both breathing fast. “I’m so attracted to you,” I said in a low voice. “I want you so much. I just need to be…careful right now.”
“You’ve been through a lot.” His hand slid up my back and into my hair, fingers twisting into it in a way that was both comforting and erotic. “I get it.”
“Really?”
“Fuck yeah.”
My heart beat a rapid cadence in my chest. Some guys would be pissed about a woman putting a halt to things at this point. We were both obviously turned on and wanting more.
“We’re still having another date,” Chase added.
“Yeah.” I smiled. “Guess I have to stop making bets with you.”
“Or not.”
I closed my eyes as amusement, relief, and affection rushed through me. “When are we going out again?”
“Next week’s our bye week. We have five days off. I’ll figure something out.”
“Okay. You’ve done pretty well so far.” It was kind of freaky how well he knew me.
“I’ll take you home.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s late. It’s cold.”
“It’s not a problem. I put you in a car alone last time and I hated that. I’ll take you home.”
He got my jacket from the closet, and we both bundled up, then rode the elevator to the parking garage beneath his building. He led the way to a gorgeous black Maserati.
“Jesus,” I said, stroking the fender. “This is your car? It’s beautiful.”
“Come on. You probably ride around in Maseratis all the time in L.A.”
“Ha ha. Not so much.”
“What kind of car do you drive?” He opened the door for me.
“I have a BMW convertible in L.A. Here, I’m just renting a Lexus.”
“Nice.”
His car was immaculate inside, unlike my Beamer that had workout gear in the backseat, paper napkins from various fast-food restaurants scattered throughout it, assorted pairs of sunglasses, and various cosmetics.
It wasn’t far to my place, a quick speed along Lake Shore. He pulled into the circular driveway in front of my building, an older, narrow building squeezed between neighboring high-rises.
“You don’t have to come in.” I nodded at the doorman. “I’ll be safe.”
“It’s like you read my mind.” He studied the doorman. “Okay. But when I pick you up for our next date, I’m coming up to see where you live.”
I smiled at him in the dark car. Then I leaned over, laid a hand on his face, and kissed him. My belly flipped and warmed at the feel of his mouth moving on mine, firm and insistent.
I couldn’t wait for our next date.
Whatever the Aces thought they were getting with the trade, Hartman hasn’t lived up to their hopes. He’s still logging his regular ice time, but his offensive contributions have been dismal, with just a single goal and 6 assists in 44 games. Hartman is plus 56 for his career and has a respectable 420 points in 515 career games, but he needs to chip in a lot more than he has done this season.
—The Hockey Report
* * *
—
I got to see Chase again before our next date though. Sort of.
My dad took me to the Aces game Saturday night.
It had been a while since I’d been to the Moen’s Center, but I remembered it well. My dad had gotten decent tickets in the two hundred level near center ice. I was excited, clutching my popcorn and bottle of water. I so wanted a beer. I was okay to drink alcohol, but the carbonation wasn’t good for my throat.
“Remember, no yelling,” Dad said to me as we settled into our seats.
I grimaced. “Right, right. That could be hard.” I liked to express myself when I watched hockey. I was a passionate fan.
I watched the teams warm up, searching out Chase. There he was…number 9. Excitement buzzed in my veins at seeing him play live like this.
“So, um, I never told you and Mom this, but I went on another date with Chase Hartman.”
They’d known about my first date with him. Hell, the whole world had known.
Dad’s head whipped around. “Really? When?”
“Saturday.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Huh. I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.”
“Why worried?”
“He’s a man.”
I laughed. “You’d rather I date women?”
“Jesus, Jordyn, no. I mean, if you wanted to, we’d be okay with that. Oh, you know what I meant.”
I bumped his arm with my shoulder. “I don’t want to date women. And you don’t have to worry about Chase. He’s a gentleman.”
“Good to know. Are you seeing him again?”
“Yeah, next week.”
“So is this…serious?”
“No.” I answered that immediately. How could it be serious? Two dates couldn’t be serious. Not even three dates could be serious. This was just some happy times to cheer us both up as we struggled in our careers. Eventually it would end—I’d recover and go back to L.A. He’d figure out what was wrong with his game and move on. “Not serious.”
“Okay.”
I watched Chase throughout the game, which sometimes meant I missed other things, like the first goal of the game scored by Vancouver. And when Duncan Armstrong took a penalty. I managed not to cheer when Aces captain Marc Dupuis scored the first Aces goal but I still jumped to my feet and threw my arms into the air, then clapped wildly.
I watched as Chase took possession of the puck and skated toward the Vancouver goal. “Holy shit!” I clapped my hands over my mouth watching him dangle twice, moving the puck around two defenders with sweet moves to go in all alone on the Vancouver goalie. He snapped the puck toward the net. But the shot was weak, and the netminder easily stopped it.
Bad enough that he hadn’t scored, but I was even more dismayed when Chase bent over as if he was in pain. He headed to the bench at the whistle, skating slowly and shaking out his hand.
I bit my lip. Had he hurt himself? That hadn’t looked like a particularly dangerous play.
He actually went down the tunnel behind the bench, which made me more anxious. Was there something really wrong? I was distracted by keeping an eye out for him to return. Finally he did, sitting on the bench. I watched him say something to the player beside him.
He came back on the ice next shift, but the rest of the game he didn’t seem to be playing as aggressively as he usually did. I hated the way my stomach felt, knotted and rigid.
The Aces lost, three–two, dejected players leaving the ice as soon as the final horn sounded. Many of the fans had already left, but my dad and I had never done that. We always stayed to the end of the game. I was disappointed at the loss. But more than that, I was worried about Chase.
Chapter 12
Chase
“Do you have a passport?” I stood at the window of my condo talking to Jordyn on the phone the next day.
“What? A passport? Why?”
“You have one?”
“Um, yeah.”
“A bikini?”
“I have several.”
“Excellent. Pack those and a bottle of sunscreen for our next date.”
“What?”
“We’re going to Aruba.”