Mike: Eventually I figured that out.
Lauren: Good. A goalie needs sharp eyes.
Mike: I looked for you at yoga and at lunch. And by the rooftop pool. Then I flexed my muscles at the sweet young thing at the front desk and tried to pry your room number out of her.
Lauren: And it didn’t work?
Mike: Sure it did. But she said you weren’t staying here.
Lauren: She was just blowing you off.
Mike: Really? You’re here?
Lauren: No. Just pulling your chain. :)
Mike: So why are you not here? We need to work on our project together. :)
Lauren: I’m working on Nate’s project.
Mike: ?!?!?!?!?
Lauren: Let me clarify—it’s a different kind of project.
Mike: What kind?
Lauren: Something came up at KTech, and Nate needs me here this week. Can’t say what, though. Not being coy. I signed an NDA.
Mike: You must be very important.
Lauren: The importantest. Ask anyone.
Mike: If you were here, I’d remove all your clothes and make you tell me all the secrets.
Lauren: If I was there, I’d probably let you. You’re very persuasive.
Lauren: Crap. I shouldn’t joke like this on the Katt Phone. I WOULDN’T REALLY TELL. KIDDING, BOSS.
Mike: You think he has all your texts scanned for potential espionage?
Lauren: No idea if the bots we always joke about are real. But either way, I’m one of the most dedicated, hardworking employees of the world’s best company; it’s important the bots don’t get the wrong idea. :)
Mike: You are very persuasive, too. I wonder if my texts are also scanned. I probably shouldn’t text you what I’ve been thinking about.
Lauren: Right.
Mike: The bots might like a thrill, though. I’m lying in my hotel bed, wishing you were here with me. I feel like nibbling on your thighs a little. For an appetizer. Then I want to dine on the main course. Slowly.
Lauren: Wowzers. I hope the bots are taking a night off.
Mike: Oh, relax. Innuendo won’t summon the bots. That probably requires dirty words. IE I want to lick your pussy until you’re dripping for me. Then I want you to ride my cock until I explode inside you.
Mike’s Katt Phone rang in his hand, and he swiped to answer it. “Hello there, hot stuff. Is your phone burning up in your hand?”
“You’re going to get me fired,” Lauren said into his ear, and the breathy sound of her voice made him harder than he already was.
“No, I’m not. Sexting is the great American pastime. Hang on a sec.” He shifted in the bed. “There. Now my right hand is free in case you have anything you want to say to me.”
“I do.”
“Yeah?”
“Nice save in the third period last night.”
He groaned. “You tease me.”
“I’d like to,” she said, her voice low and serious.
They shared a moment of companionable silence before he asked, “So. Do you feel any different?”
He felt her huff of laughter as if she were right there with him. “No! It’s only been three days. I know you’re a super stud, but there’s no way to know yet.”
“How long do we have to wait?” He shifted his hips again just to feel the silky cotton sheets slide against his erection.
“I’ll start thinking about it in two weeks. Or, if you keep nagging me, I’ll think about it every minute between now and then.”
“And that’s not good?”
“It’s fine as long as I don’t need to use my brain for anything else. Like top secret business negotiations.”
“I see. Sure wish you were here right now. I’d make you forget about everything.”
“I have no doubt that’s true.”
“When can I see you again?”
“That’s not an easy question, is it? You’re back in town when?”
“Thursday. But I don’t have a game until Saturday. So—have dinner with me Thursday or Friday?”
“Sure. Let’s say Friday because Nate and I will probably be done burning the midnight oil by then.”
“Is that good for the baby?”
Lauren snorted. “You’re hysterical. If there is one, it’s the size of a grape seed right now.”
“There is one.”
“Mike! You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” he pressed, grinning into the phone. God, there was nothing better than lying here in the dark, Lauren in his ear. Unless it was Lauren naked in his arms. That would be better, come to think of it.
“I’ll have dinner with you under one condition.”
“Here it comes,” he teased. “Tell me what I have to do to take you out for dinner, oh, great one.”
“No talk of babies. It’s just an ordinary date.”
“All right,” he said easily. “I thought you were going to ask me to do something difficult. Like slay a dragon.”
“I should have asked you to shut out Detroit tomorrow.”
“I’m going to do that anyway.”
“You are a cocky bastard.”
“But I’m your cocky bastard.”
? ? ?
As it happened, he did shut out Detroit. The team flew home with 2–0 on the series so far, and a two-game home ice advantage coming their way.
“Detroit Crumbles under the Pressure” the sports pages had all screamed.
It felt pretty damn good, too. The Bruisers had already exceeded the media’s expectations. And Lauren told him that season ticket sales were already up for next year, so Nate was feeling great.
The only bad news was that Coach Worthington called a working dinner for Friday night. One of his old friends used to work with several key Detroit players, so Coach had the man in for a long strategy session and video viewing.
He had to cancel his first date with Lauren in two years. “Sunday?” he begged. “Swear to god I’ll call in sick if they schedule anything else.”
“Don’t call in sick, you’ll give Silas a heart attack,” she teased. “Sunday is fine. As long as you win tomorrow night.”
They didn’t, though. Game three was beset by bad luck and some bad calls from the ref. They lost it in overtime, 2–1.
Luckily, Lauren was willing to dine with him anyway.
“Dad?” Elsa asked, coming down the stairs as he straightened up the living room that night.
“Yeah?” Mike gathered some old issues of Sports Illustrated into a stack and straightened the corners.
“Are you cleaning up the house or something?”
Busted. “A little. Sure.”
“Why?”
“It’s gotten a little sloppy since the play-offs started.” Hans had found someone reliable to come in to clean once a week, but she wasn’t due for three more days. “And . . .” Truth time. “Lauren is coming over for a minute before we step out to get some dinner.” He stood up and faced his daughter. “You want to join us?”
Elsa wrinkled her nose the same way she used to do when Shelly served brussels sprouts. “No.”
“You mean ‘no, thank you?’”
“No, thank you,” she droned.
He picked up an empty water bottle and a crumpled napkin. “Aren’t you even going to ask where we’re going?”