“Don’t call me cute.”
“Why not?”
“Because I hate it. Babies and bunny rabbits are cute. I’m a grown woman. And stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” he said, blinking innocently.
“Like you’re imagining me naked.”
“I can’t help it. I am imagining you naked.”
His eyes darkened to a sensual glitter, and liquid heat promptly pooled between her thighs. She tried not to squeeze her legs together. She didn’t want him seeing the effect he had on her.
“Have a drink with me tonight,” he said suddenly.
The word no slipped out more quickly than she’d intended.
Brody’s features creased with what looked like frustration. He stepped closer, causing her to dart a glance in her father’s direction. Presley was standing at the end of the hall, engaged in deep conversation with Stan Gray, the Warriors’ head coach. While her dad seemed oblivious to the sparks shooting between her and Brody, Hayden still felt uncomfortable having this discussion in view of her father.
It didn’t help that Brody looked so darn edible in gray wool pants that hugged his muscular legs and a ribbed black sweater that stretched across his chest. And his wet hair…She forced herself to stop staring at those damp strands, knowing that if she allowed herself to imagine him in the shower, naked, she might just come on the spot.
“One drink,” he insisted, with a charming grin. “You know, for old time’s sake.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ve known each other for all of twenty-four hours.”
“Yes, but it was a very wild twenty-four hours, wouldn’t you say?” He moved closer and lowered his head, his lips inches from her ear, his warm breath fanning across her neck. “How many times did you come again, Hayden? Three? Four?”
“Five,” she squeezed out, and then quickly looked around to make sure nobody had heard her.
Her entire body started to throb from the memory. Nipples hardened. Sex grew moist. That she could experience such arousal in a hallway full of people—one of them her father—made her blush with embarrassment.
“Five.” He nodded briskly. “I haven’t lost my touch.”
She resisted the urge to groan. He was too damn sexual, too sure of himself, which gave him a definite advantage, because at the moment she wasn’t sure of anything.
Except the fact that she wanted to tear off her clothes and hop right back into bed with Brody Croft.
But, nope, she wouldn’t do it. Sleeping with Brody again had Bad Idea written all over it. It had all been much simpler last night, when he’d just been an exciting, sensual stranger. But now…now he was real. Even worse, he was a hockey player. She’d grown up around enough hockey players to know how they lived—the constant traveling, the media, the eager females lining up to jump into bed with them.
And along with being involved in a sport she hated, Brody was so…arrogant, flirtatious, bold. Yesterday it had added to the allure of sex with a stranger. Today it was a reminder of why she’d decided bad boys no longer played a part in her life.
Been there, done that. Her last boyfriend had been as arrogant, flirty and bold as Brody Croft, and that relationship had ended a fiery death when Adam dumped her on her birthday because the whole “fidelity thing” cramped his style. His words, not hers.
She wasn’t quite sure why she had such terrible judgment when it came to men. It shouldn’t be so hard finding someone to build a life with, should it? A home, a solid marriage, great sex, excitement and stability, a man who’d make their relationship a priority—was that too much to ask for?
“Why are you so determined to see me again?” she found herself blurting, then lowered her voice when her father glanced in their direction. “I told you this morning I wanted to leave things at one night.”
“What about what I want?”
She bit back an annoyed curse, deciding to go for the honest approach. “My life is complicated right now,” she admitted. “I came home to support my father, not get involved with someone.”
“You were pretty involved with me last night,” he said, winking. He uncrossed his arms and let them drop to his sides. “And you can’t deny you liked it, Hayden.”
“Of course I liked it,” she hissed.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is, I wanted one night. Seeing you again wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Plan, or fantasy?” he drawled, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You fantasized about indulging in one night of wicked sex with a stranger and now that you have it’s time to move on. I’m not judging you, just pointing out that the fantasy doesn’t have to end yet.”