“Having a good time?” Pres asked.
“We just got here,” answered Becker.
“Well, the party’s just getting started.” Pres lifted his glass to his lips and emptied it. A second later he flagged down a waiter and promptly received a full glass.
“Is your daughter here tonight?” Brody asked. His voice came out more eager than casual. His peripheral vision caught Becker’s mouth creasing in a frown.
Pres looked distinctly ill at ease at the mention of Hayden. “I think she went out on the patio,” he said.
And there was his cue.
Brody didn’t feel bad leaving Becker in the clutches of the obviously plastered team owner. Sam Becker had been in the business long enough to know how to handle every situation thrown at him, and he usually handled them as well as he did the puck. The man was a pro, through and through.
Brody stepped away, glancing around the enormous ballroom for the patio entrance. Finally he spotted the French doors and made his way toward them.
His breath caught at the sight of Hayden’s silver-clad figure. She was leaning against the railing overlooking the grounds of the estate, her long brown hair cascading down her bare shoulders, her delectable ass hugged by the silky material of her dress.
He paused at the doors, admiring her. To his surprise, she turned abruptly as if sensing his presence. Their eyes locked. And that’s when he saw that her sooty black lashes were spiky with tears.
He was by her side in seconds. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he murmured, resting both hands on her slender waist and pulling her toward him.
She sank into his embrace and pressed her face against his shoulder as she whispered, “What are you doing here?”
“I tagged along with a friend.” He gently stroked her back. “And I’m glad I did. You look awful.”
“Gee, thanks.” Her voice came out muffled against the front of his tuxedo jacket.
“Oh, quit sulking. You know you’re the sexiest woman at this party.” He swept a hand over her firm bottom. The feel of her warm, curvy body made his pulse quicken, but he reminded himself that now was not the time.
“Now tell me the reason for these.” He brushed the moisture from her lashes. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Hayden.”
She lifted her head, chin tilting with defiance. “It’s not a big deal, Brody. Just go inside and enjoy the party.”
“Screw the party. I came here to see you.”
“Well, I came here to see my dad.” She turned her head away and stared out at the landscaped grounds.
The temperature had dipped drastically and the thick gray clouds littering the night sky hinted at a storm. Already the endless carpet of flowers on the lush lawn was starting to sway in the wind, sweeping a sweet aroma in the direction of the cobblestone patio.
It was the kind of night he usually enjoyed, the moistness of the air, the hint of rain and thunder, but he couldn’t appreciate it when Hayden looked so distraught.
And beautiful. Damn, but she also looked beautiful. The slinky silver dress, the strappy heels, the shiny pink gloss coating her sensual lips. He wanted her, as strongly and as violently as he’d wanted her that first night in the bar. And not just sexually. Something about this woman brought out a protective, nurturing side in him he’d never known he possessed.
“Please, Hayden, tell me what happened.”
She hesitated for so long he didn’t think she’d say anything, but then her mouth opened and a string of words flew out like bullets spitting from a rifle.
“I think my father is drinking. He blew up at me when I questioned him about it, and then he made a few remarks about bad investments.” She looked up, her eyes wide with anguish. “I’m worried he might have done some of the things everyone is accusing him of. God, Brody, I think there’s actually a chance he might have bribed players and bet on games.”
Brody’s heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach. He shoved his fists into the pockets of his jacket, hoping to bring warmth to hands that had suddenly grown ice-cold. Damn it. He didn’t want to have this conversation, especially with Hayden. Not when his own flags were raised.
So he just stood there in silence, waiting for her to continue and hoping she wouldn’t ask him any questions that might force him to reveal something she probably wouldn’t want to hear.
“I don’t know what I should do,” she murmured. “I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know if he’s guilty or innocent. I have no proof he has a drinking problem, but it’s obvious after tonight that something is going on with my dad.”
“You need to try talking to him when he’s sober,” Brody advised.