Goal Line

Mid-April…

Ugly and threadbare, the patchwork sofa had never really gone with anything in the apartment, but Sahara Dionne still missed the big old thing. Funny, because she’d once playfully complained about the comfy eyesore to one of her roommates, but she’d found a new love for the sofa when she’d learned about the sentiment attached to it. The new, pale blue loveseat taking its place didn’t have the same character.

Actually, the whole apartment felt empty.

You’re the last woman standing, Sahara.

She laughed at her own dry humor, but it was close enough to the truth. Akira had moved out months ago, but Jami had still considered this her home until yesterday. She was engaged, and there was no point to her staying here any longer.

Not that she’d been here often, but now the move was official. All her things were gone.

And Sahara was alone.

She walked around the apartment, all the rooms bright with their big windows, but one room was completely empty. She could set up an exercise room or something, but she simply closed the door so she wouldn’t have to think that far ahead yet. The kitchen looked the same; the girls hadn’t taken any dishes or furniture from there, so Sahara curled up on the window seat Scott Demyan, her closest male friend and one of the players for the Dartmouth Cobras, had made for them. The teddy bear he’d gotten her for Valentine’s day—because, as he pointed out, guys could get gifts for their fake girlfriends—sat on the gold cushion by the window. She hugged the bear and opened Facebook on her phone.

Putting up a status report that was all depressing wouldn’t be good; she had too many followers since she was the alternate captain for the Cobras’ Ice Girls, but people liked her being real. So she typed in a little happy face, choosing her words carefully.

Got the place all to myself! So happy for Akira and Jami, they deserve the best—I better get invites to the weddings! Lol! Being single is cool though. So many hot boys to play with. How does a girl decide…not that I’m in a rush! <g> Did you see Pischlar’s new tattoo? She added the picture he’d let her take the last time she saw him at the Delgado Forum. A phoenix that looked like it was rising from melting flesh over his ribs. She could almost feel the heat of the fire even from the picture. In person the tattoo was…breathtaking.

She could say more, but she decided just to post the update. The likes came fast—her followers loved her posting stuff about the players. And making them happy gave her something to do. She grinned at the comments and replied as fast as she could. Chin resting on the head of the teddy bear, she read a longer post from a woman who was absolutely in love with Shawn Pischlar, one of the Cobras’ forwards. Apparently she’d gotten him to sign her arm and now the ink was permanent. She gave all the reasons why Pischlar was the ultimate fantasy boyfriend—and then suggested Sahara find someone else because Pischlar was hers.

I so have to get Pisch to look at this. He’ll find it funny. Sahara smiled as she checked her messages. Some from her cousins who wanted to know if she’d be in New York since the Cobras were playing the Islanders in the first round of the playoffs. Sahara told them she’d try, but the reminder of who the Cobras would be facing made it hard to keep up the happy front. Grant Higgins, her ex-boyfriend, played for the Islanders. The first game was tomorrow. In Dartmouth.

And there was a message from him. She clicked on it and held her breath as she read.

Grant: You doing okay, babe? You seem sad.

Sahara frowned and checked her status again. How had she seemed sad?

She shook her head and replied. I’m fine.

Grant: You’re not. I know things ended bad, and it’s my fault, but I still consider you a friend. Did you hear about my mom?

Sahara had liked Grant’s mother. The poor woman had died while volunteering overseas in Haiti as a teacher. When Sahara had first heard about her death, she’d been tempted to call Grant. But she was afraid. They were over, and she needed to make that clear.

She was careful as she typed her reply: I heard and I’m so sorry. She was a wonderful woman. But the team putting up a memorial for her was nice. It’s good that you have them.

No reply for a long time. She looked out the window, enjoying the view. This part of Nova Scotia, smack dab in the middle of Dartmouth, was nice. Not close to the ocean, but even looking out at the backyards with pools and freshly planted gardens was pleasant.

A ding and she glanced at her phone.

Grant: I miss you.

How to answer that without encouraging him? She bit the tip of her tongue. And wrote a quick response. We’re both doing better now, Grant.

Grant: I need to see you. Can I? I’m at the door, but I’ll go away if you want me to.

The knock at the door tripped up her heart. Her phone rang. Akira. She didn’t move and kept her voice low as she answered. “Hello?”

“Pischlar? Hell, your ‘fans’ might buy that, but we both know you’re not moving on with him. And if you’re even considering it, I’m going to kick your ass!”

Sahara let out a strained laugh. “I’ve had great scenes with him.” Another knock. She pressed her eyes shut. “Damn it, I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” Akira let out a sharp “Hush!” to whoever was talking to her. “If the house is too quiet, come over here.”

“I have to get used to this. I’ll be okay, but…I think Grant’s at the door.”

“What? Grant—as in your ex? Damn it, Sahara, don’t you dare answer. I’m calling the cops—Cort, relax. I—”

“I’m fine, Akira!” Sahara rose off the window seat. Grant wasn’t banging hard or anything. She heard him speaking softly on the other side of the door, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying yet. “His mother just died. I can’t ignore him.”

“Yes, you can! Sahara, he hurt you!”

“I know that, but we had a messed-up relationship. You only know my side. And it’s not like I’m going to take him back.” Standing by the door, Sahara stared at the lock. She didn’t have to open the door. She really could ignore him. But she didn’t want to. She wasn’t that cruel. “Maybe we can be friends. Would be good since the Cobras are playing the Islanders. I can ask him to stop getting the boys riled up. Make it a clean game.”

“Fuck no. Sahara, listen to me.” Akira’s tone was soft. Gentle. Her words…not so much. “A man who hits a woman can never be a friend. Call the cops, or I will.”

“Don’t be dramatic. You don’t know why…” Sahara scowled as she put her hand on the lock. Her friends loved her, and she appreciated their concern, but she hated how easily they dismissed her responsibility for how the relationship had failed. “I have to let you go. I love you. And I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Hanging up, Sahara made up her mind and unlocked the door. Grant stood there, and… She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but he looked exactly the same as he had the day they’d met. That charming, boyish face, dirty blond hair badly in need of a trim only complementing his laid-back manner. He had a way of giving off the impression that he didn’t give a damn about anything, but you only had to check out his perfectly maintained body to know that wasn’t true. He was rugged and buff and so damn hot. He’d turned her head even though she’d grown up around enough hockey players for her to be used to big, muscular guys.

A dull ache in her chest made speaking difficult as he met her eyes with his dreamy, deep blue ones. How damn easy would it be to forget the horrible end of the relationship and just focus on the wonderful times they’d had? To forgive him for turning mean, then violent.

Don’t even fucking think about it, Sahara. Maybe she could forgive him, but she’d never forget what he’d done to her. She held the door just wide enough to talk to him, leaving no doubt that he wasn’t being welcomed inside.

“What are you doing here, Grant?” She bit down hard on her bottom lip, a lip he’d left swollen and bloody one too many times, and refused to feel bad as he shuffled his feet and dropped his gaze. “How did you find me?”

“Facebook.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded blue jeans. “Your location was on the message, so I figured you weren’t trying to hide. I saw your car out back… One of your neighbors told me which door was yours.”

“Yeah, because that’s not creepy or stalkerish.” Sahara frowned when he shrugged. “This is a bad idea. You have a game tomorrow and you should focus on that. I don’t want any trouble—”

Grant shook his head and brought his hands up, fast enough that she almost jumped back and slammed the door in his face, but he simply held them up in an “I’m harmless” gesture. “No trouble—and damn it, Sahara, I hate that you’re afraid of me. I have a horrible temper and I’ve been working on controlling it. I love you, and I understand that you can’t love me back, but my mother would want me to make things right with you. She’d be so ashamed of me if she knew…”

Well, he was right about that. Mrs. Higgins was—had been—the gentlest, most caring person Sahara had ever met. Losing her must have forced Grant to face all the mistakes he’d made, because he hadn’t accepted any blame before. Sure, he’d said he was sorry when he hurt her, but he’d always accused her of pissing him off to get a reaction.

And she’d been so blinded by love for him that she’d taken responsibility for each and every time he’d lifted a hand to her.

Never again.

But she’d give him a chance to make things right. To prove he was the man she’d fallen in love with, rather than the monster he became. “Is that all you want, Grant? Seriously? You’re fine just being friends?”

“That’s all I want.” Grant backed away from the door. “You’re right, coming here was…creepy. I just wasn’t sure if you’d meet me anywhere, but maybe we can have coffee sometime before the teams head to New York for the third round?”

“I guess so…” She pursed her lips, knowing if she waited too long, one of her friends would talk her out of giving him so much as the time of day. He’d clearly made progress, and she didn’t want to ruin that by turning him down. “What are you doing now?”

He ducked his head. “Trying to convince myself this is for real? I imagined all the things I would say to you, but every time your only reply was ‘fuck off.’”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Would probably be the smartest response. Wait here, let me grab my shoes.”

“You won’t regret this, babe. I promise.”

Those words were hauntingly familiar, but she shook off her misgivings as she grabbed her running shoes from beside the door. She pulled them on, wondering for a second if she should change out of her black yoga pants and baggy white sweater, but decided, if he wanted to hang out, he’d take her as she was.

Grabbing her keys from the entry table, she joined him in the hall, locked her door, then led the way out to the parking lot behind the apartment. “We’re taking separate cars. And I’m warning you, any funny business—”

His fingers were suddenly at her ribs, tickling her as he laughed. “Like this?”

“Grant!” She squealed and smacked his hands away. “Stop!”

A huge body shoved between her and Grant, knocking Grant onto the pavement while tugging Sahara back. Cortland Nash, Akira’s boyfriend and the head of the Cobras’ security team, pulled off his leather jacket and handed it to Sahara as he held Grant down with a boot on his throat. “Go wait in my car, Sahara. I’ll make sure this bastard never comes near you again.”

Eyes wide, Sahara dropped the jacket and quickly latched on to Cort’s arm as he jerked Grant to his knees by the front of his shirt. “Cort, don’t! You don’t understand—”

“You were screaming for him to stop.” Cort glanced over at her, speaking like he thought she was a little slow. “What’s to understand?”

“He was tickling me. We’re going for coffee. I’m fine!” She slapped Cort’s arm when he hauled back like he was going to hit Grant no matter what she said. “Let him go! Damn it, Cort, he’s playing tomorrow.”

This time Cort released Grant. And turned to her, drawing her aside and keeping his voice low. “I get that he’s with your old team, but they have other players. There’s no need to protect him. Go inside if you won’t get in my car. I won’t give you details.”

The man was insane. She grabbed his arm again before he could resume his attack on Grant—who, for some reason, hadn’t moved. “I’m not going inside. You are going to leave him alone.”

“And why is that, exactly?” He glared at Grant, which got Grant out of his stupor and scrambling to his feet, closer to his car. “Did he threaten you?”

“No. And I think you should go home before someone calls the cops. My house is not on the list of places you’re supposed to be with that ankle monitor.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Cort groaned as his phone went off. He held up a finger, then answered. “Yeah, I know. Like I give a shit? One minute.” He looked at Grant. “I’ll give you ten fucking seconds to get the hell out of here. After that, the only question is where you want me to send your body.”

Someone was shouting on the phone. Cort lifted his hand and started folding fingers down as he stared down at Grant.

And continued his conversation with the caller, sounding much calmer. “No, ma’am. I think you heard wrong.”

He continued counting down with his fingers. Started on the last five.

Grant shot her an apologetic look and got in his car, swerving out of the parking lot before Cort reached one.

After ending the call, Cort faced Sahara with his hands on her shoulders. “Give me one good reason not to make sure the man can’t walk, never mind play.”

Sahara planted her hands in the center of Cort’s chest and shoved him away from her, so angry she couldn’t find words at first. Then she found plenty. “His mother just died and he needs a friend! I can’t believe you just did that! You’re nothing but a…a thug! You’re protecting me from him with violence? Do you really think you’re better than him?”

Cort blinked, jerking back like she’d slapped him. “I’ve never hurt a woman, Sahara. Akira told me not to come, but she was crying—she’s afraid for you. The man left bruises on you. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I’m smart enough to handle my own affairs. I’ll explain things to Akira, but I don’t have to explain myself to you!” Tears blurred her vision as she spun away from him and ran back into the apartment. Grant had reached out to her and now he probably thought he couldn’t come near her if he wanted to live. She slammed her door and checked her phone. He hadn’t called. Not that she blamed him. Apparently being around her wasn’t safe.

Groaning, she slumped onto her stiff new loveseat and buried her face in her hands. The one chance she’d had to tear out a dark page of her past was ruined.

Her phone rang. She snatched it up and let out a sob of relief when she saw Grant’s number. She answered. “I’m so sorry about that. Are you okay?”

“I’m all right.” Grant laughed nervously. “That dude was nuts! Who is he?”

“One of my best friends’ boyfriends. I talked to her just before I answered the door.”

“Ah…well, then I can’t really blame her for sending him.”

Sahara blinked. “What?”

“Sweetie, all she knows is who I was. She’s right to worry, and I’m happy you have people who care about you.” He sighed. “Maybe, one day, I’ll earn their trust. And yours. But that won’t happen overnight.”

She rubbed her eyes and smiled. If Akira could hear Grant now, she’d understand why Sahara couldn’t turn her back on him. He needed someone to believe in him. She could be that person. Reclining on the sofa, she let out a rough exhale. “Well, you’re off to an awesome start.”

* * *

With the first playoff game starting tomorrow, Dominik Mason knew he should rest. Instead, he ditched his white tank top, pulled on boxing gloves, and prepared to face off against the Dartmouth Cobras’ assistant coach. A man he’d once considered a good friend. Maybe would again someday.

Today wasn’t about being friendly. Assistant Coach Sloan Callahan had invited the players for optional physical training in the semiprivate boxing club the Cobras’ owner had recently drawn up a contract with. Other hockey teams had their players take boxing for conditioning and discipline, and the owner had decided the Cobras were badly in need of both. With professionals carefully supervising, any risk was negligible. A fight on the ice would do more damage, but most of the players weren’t brawlers anyway. They’d pull their punches and each match would be short. Not a single man wanted to do real harm.

As the team’s captain, Dominik was expected to set a good example. But he was more than willing to get into the ring with Sloan and work off some steam. He let the trainer put in his mouthguard and glanced around the large, dimly lit room. All the men were dressed similarly to him and Sloan, in white tank tops or T-shirts and black and gold Cobra gym shorts. Several players had teamed up at the hanging punching bags. Scott Demyan, reformed playboy and one of their team’s top snipers, secured a bag for their rookie backup goalie, Dave Hunt. The youngster was a large mammal with a shorter fuse than Dominik had on his worst day. The way he hit the bag, with precise jabs and powerful swings, made it clear he’d done this before.

Doesn’t look like training helped the kid control his temper much. Dominik grinned when Demyan released the bag and stumbled backward when it swung and hit him. Demyan’s lack of experience was pretty obvious, but with hands like his, the last thing they wanted was for him to be fighting on the ice.

Sloan was the prime example of why. He’d had a hell of a shot when he’d played for them, but he’d broken his hand on a helmet during a fight, trying to prove himself an asset when the old team management had attempted to turn the Cobras into a more “physical” team. His bones hadn’t set right, and after surgery, his stickhandling and shot had never returned to his former elite level, so he’d retired young. But he was still a damn good leader and he’d be a decent match for Dominik in a fight.

Bouncing in place to warm up, Dominik glanced over at the boxing trainer who gestured for him and Sloan to meet in the center of the ring. A feminine cheer drew his attention to the side, and he had to bite down on his mouthpiece to keep from groaning when he saw the Delgado girls. Or, more specifically, Oriana.

He’d been in love with Oriana once, had shared her with Sloan and Max Perron, a man the team and fans called The Catalyst. Oriana was married to Max and collared by Sloan. She’d once been collared by Dominik, but he knew now he’d never really meshed with the other two men. They were Oriana’s future. Together, they made her happy. He’d only stood in their way.

Enough time had passed for him to make peace with letting her go, but he wasn’t comfortable with her cheering on Sloan from the sidelines. Not that he could tell her to go away. Her family might not own the team anymore, but they were still deeply involved in management. With Silver here and… Yeah, there he was, their brother, Ford, standing near the door observing all the players with detached interest. The siblings had a right to see how well prepared the players were for tomorrow’s game. Maybe, if he could just be professional about the whole thing, her being here wouldn’t matter.

Her being here doesn’t matter, Mason. Dominik nodded to himself and bumped his gloves against Sloan’s. The other man didn’t seem at all affected by his woman’s presence. Dominik tensed and relaxed his muscles. Rolled his neck and backed a few paces, giving Sloan the opening to make the first move. He didn’t really want to hurt the other man, but the sadistic fuck would get off on hurting him. Best to end this as quickly as possible.

Sloan’s dark green eyes fixed on Dominik’s face and his lips quirked at the edges. He inched forward, fists raised.

A whistle blew and they both looked over to the left where the head coach, Roger Shero, was climbing into the ring. Gray and white streaked his dark auburn hair and the beard he’d started to grow. He reminded Dominik of someone’s grandfather, soft enough for a kid to sit in his lap for story-time. But he was a damn good coach, tailoring his approach to each player, not missing so much as a dirty look or a grumble in the locker room. No doubt he knew every detail of Dominik and Sloan’s past conflict.

The older man took off his black suit jacket and handed it to the trainer before waving him away. He straightened his black-and-white striped tie, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement as he looked from Dominik to Sloan.

“I’d hoped the two of you would get us started.” Shero patted Sloan’s bare shoulder. “New whiteboard rule proposed by Callahan. You boys have a problem, it gets resolved in the ring. No more fighting in the locker room.” He laughed and shook his head. “For the two of you, perhaps I should add the hallway as well.”

Not much fazed Sloan, but his cheeks reddened slightly at the reminder of their scuffle weeks ago. The fight hadn’t started with them, but it had escalated with their lingering animosity. He jerked his chin in a sharp nod. “You got it, Coach.”

Dominik inclined his head. “I’m good with that, Coach Shero.”

“Excellent. Keep it clean and don’t forget we’ve got a game tomorrow. You get five minutes to knock each other around.” Shero stepped back and motioned them toward one another. “You may begin.”

Cheers from the players that gathered around Oriana and Silver distracted Sloan for a split second. Dominik swung his fist, clipping Sloan in the jaw just hard enough to get his attention. Dark eyes narrowed, Sloan brought his fist up to protect his face and shifted sideways, snapping out a right hook at Dominik’s ribs.

Smoothly blocking, Dominik drove an uppercut into Sloan’s chin. Sloan stumbled a few steps, then returned in full force, each punch solid, but none landing anywhere that could slow Dominik in the least. The man didn’t have the technique to catch Dominik off guard. He blocked fairly well, but he was tiring himself out with each ineffective swing.

Maybe Dominik had misjudged him. He snapped a jab into Sloan’s sternum, then a left hook to Sloan’s face. Kept swinging until Sloan’s back hit the ropes. A sharp command from Shero and Dominik retreated to let Sloan catch his breath. The satisfaction in overpowering the other man was shallow. Without the rules of the ring, Sloan might have had a chance, but he was playing Dominik’s game now.

Blood pumping, his whole body vibrating with energy, Dominik watched Sloan recover and turned as Sloan circled him. He braced when Sloan lunged forward, absorbing the impact and slamming both his fists into Sloan’s sides. He shoved Sloan off and cracked him in the jaw hard enough to end the fight. Sloan fell to the mat, snarled, and bounded to his feet.

Shero blew the whistle. Time was up. He grabbed Dominik’s arm. “Good match! The enforcer takes this round.” He glanced over at Sloan. “Gloves off and shake hands. Show the men how it’s done.”

After removing his gloves, Dominik pulled out his mouthpiece. He met Sloan’s eyes, not sure how he’d take the loss. He held out his hand.

Grinning, Sloan took Dominik’s hand. His grip was solid, not a display of strength, but a genuine handshake. He even laughed as Dominik’s brow furrowed and pulled him in for a rough, backslapping hug. “If I’d wanted to win, I wouldn’t have gotten in the ring with you.”

Dominik snorted. “Fair enough.”

Sloan lowered his voice. “This isn’t the end. We’ll pretend for the guys though. If they think we’ve gotten over our shit, they’ll do the same.”

Jaw hardening, Dominik released Sloan’s hand. He forced a smile as he got out of the ring, but he couldn’t shake the impact of Sloan’s words. There was no reason for them to hang on to the past. He’d moved on. Oriana was Sloan’s now. What more did the man want?

But as Sloan moved over to the refreshment table with Oriana at his side, Dominik hesitated. His mouth was dry and he wanted to grab a bottle of Gatorade, but seeing Oriana touch Sloan’s cheek with concern in her eyes brought a bitter taste to his mouth. He inhaled slowly and went to the pile of white towels on a bench against the wall at the other side of the room.

Something cold touched his back. He cursed and spun around, almost knocking Tyler Vanek, the team’s golden boy, right on his ass.

Vanek held out the bottle of water like a peace offering. Behind him, Raif Zovko, the team’s newest star acquisition, steadied Vanek with a hand on the young man’s shoulder. Zovko was Vanek’s Dom, and one of the few players Dominik considered a friend.

So Dominik took the bottle and grinned at Vanek. “Sorry, kid. Adrenaline has me all edgy.” He uncapped the bottle, gulped half, and then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “You’re not here to fight, are you?”

“Hell no! No one I hate enough to try and punch them, and Chicklet would get pissed if I came home with my face all messed up. And Raif would do bad things to me that would be no fun before I even got home to her, so…” Vanek shrugged, then looked over at Sloan. “Did that really work for you guys? If Callahan hadn’t been there for me in the hospital, I might have considered getting in the ring with him.”

Zovko’s expression shifted from amusement to interest. “If you truly want to be beaten by Callahan, I’m sure it could be arranged, Ty.”

“Umm…no thanks.” Vanek chewed on his bottom lip. “Besides, Chicklet wouldn’t let you—”

“Would you care to make a wager on that?” Zovko smirked when Vanek quickly shook his head, then turned to Dominik. “We are here because Demyan has asked to meet me in the ring.”

“Awesome.” Dominik shook his head and looked over to where Scott Demyan, one of the trio—which included Vanek—that players, and now fans, referred to as the “trouble triplets.” Zovko had dated Demyan’s partner, Zachary Pearce, in the minors. When Zovko joined the team, many had believed he and Pearce were having an affair. The issue was resolved, but apparently Demyan wanted his pound of flesh for his troubles.

Done with his own match, Dominik had planned to go home and chill for the night, but he decided to stay and offer Zovko his support since the man had few friends on the team. Besides, several of the other pairings were worth watching. The reasons for the fights were laughable. Everything from hogging the puck to not paying the fair share on a dinner bill. But unlike Sloan and Dominik, most of the players seemed to be having fun in the ring. Men came out laughing and arranging to go out for a couple of beers.

The last fight was supposed to be Demyan and Zovko, but raised voices on the other side of the crowd cut off Coach Shero’s call to the ring. Ian White, who usually handled the fights on the ice when Dominik wasn’t out there, was staring down Hunt. Both appeared to be growling like two junkyard dogs off their chains. Hell, Dominik must have missed whatever drama had come between the two, but Shero didn’t seem surprised.

Hunt headed for the ring. “Come on, Bruiser. You think you can take me?”

White laughed and followed him. “I know it, kid. Let’s go.”

Climbing out of the ring, Shero cut them off and shook his head. “No. Matches are planned in advance. Yours wasn’t approved.”

“Come on, Coach. We’ve got shi—stuff to work out.” White looked past Hunt, a taunting smile on his lips. “If not, I’m out of here. Wanna go for a beer, Richards?”

Braxton Richards, the youngest player on the team, quickly shook his head. Hunt had taken to looking after the kid, so maybe he thought White was a bad influence? White’s interest in Richards seemed slightly off, though Dominik couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Either way, Richards clearly didn’t like the position he’d found himself in. His eyes were wide and he was pale. Poor boy.

Thankfully, Shawn Pischlar, a solid player and easygoing Dom, was right by his side. Speaking low as he flung his arm around Richards’s shoulders. Whatever he said had Richards ducking his head and laughing.

“Back off, Pisch.” Hunt changed direction and strode up to Richards’s side, looking ready to yank the rookie away from Pischlar. He didn’t seem at all comforted by the way Pischlar moved his arm and stepped back. But he appeared to have forgotten about fighting White.

The two young men walked out. White grunted something at Pischlar before trailing after them.

Pischlar went to the refreshment table to grab an apple.

“Consider this experiment a failure, Callahan.” Shero retrieved his suit jacket from a bench by the ring and shot Zovko and Demyan an apologetic look. “This may have worked for minor issues, but I am beginning to see how easily it could be taken advantage of. Boxing is excellent for conditioning, but I hope the two of you can find a peaceful resolution.”

“I see no reason why not.” Zovko turned to Demyan, holding out his hand. After a brief hesitation, Demyan shook it.

But he didn’t say anything. Simply joined the crowd leaving.

Dominik’s lips thinned as he took in the unease that had been left behind. He hated the idea that the “experiment” had been a complete waste of time. But maybe Sloan was right. Maybe, once the men saw them getting along, they’d be motivated to do the same. With the playoffs on the line, personal shit wasn’t all that important.

He approached the table where Sloan stood with Oriana, Silver, and Ford. Sloan had taken a peach from the fruit bowl. He pulled the large knife from the watermelon platter and used it to slice a small sliver of the peach.

Oriana pressed her teeth into her lush bottom lip, half her attention on her siblings, most on Sloan who licked the peach juice off the knife.

Silver didn’t appear to notice. “Landon will be between the pipes tomorrow. His leg is fine. He had a nasty bruise but no serious damage.”

“That’s good.” Oriana pressed her hand to her cheek, blushing as Sloan slid the blade carefully over the flesh of the peach.

“Oh, get a room. Damn it, Sloan, I think you’re getting Ford off.” Silver tossed her long blond hair over one shoulder and shoved her brother. “Gross.”

“Fuck off, Silver.” Ford folded his arms over his chest, but he was watching the knife as though hypnotized. “Sloan trains Cort. I’m…interested.”

“Mmm. Knife play involves a certain…finesse.” Sloan turned the peach, drawing the blade over it in a way that barely broke the skin. He’d obviously been practicing.

When he and Dominik had played with Oriana together, Sloan had kept to the mental aspect of knives in the bedroom. Dominik shouldn’t be surprised that he’d taken the play to the next level, but he hadn’t let himself think on the kinds of scenes Sloan would be doing with Oriana.

And he didn’t want to start now. Without drawing attention to himself, he moved out the door, prepared to leave. A small, soft hand touched his arm and he took a deep breath. He looked at the hand, long fingers tipped in perfect French-manicured nails, so pale against his dark skin. A large diamond in the engagement ring, not the small diamond in Oriana’s wedding ring.

He met Silver’s eyes.

She studied his face. “Maybe this should wait. Are you—?”

“I’m fine. What is it, Silver?”

“Hanes Brands and Champion have asked you to do a series of commercials. I don’t know if your manager spoke to you, since he told me he wasn’t interested because he thinks they just want a ‘token black man.’ His words.” Her pink-glossed lips thinned and she was all business. “I disagree. You’re the captain of a team about to make the playoffs. And you’re a good-looking man. I don’t appreciate your manager making issues where there are none and—”

“I’ll do it. And I’ll deal with him, don’t worry, sweetheart.” Dominik grinned and gave Silver a hug. He kissed her forehead before letting her go. He still considered her family even though he wasn’t with her sister. “He feeds on drama. Don’t let him get to you.”

“Ford told me to let him handle the man, but fuck that.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, Dean’s asked me to practice speaking in a more ‘professional manner,’ but between dealing with your manager and my brother, I’m at my wits’ end.”

“I’ll let you know if I’m offended. You’re fine, Silver.” Dominik held the door open, pausing in the hall when Silver put her hand on his arm again. “Was there something else?”

“Are you okay? Really?” Silver eased the door shut. The hall was empty, which seemed to encourage her to drop the business persona and talk to him as the young woman who’d know him for years. “You won the fight, but what was the point? There’s no prize and nothing’s changed.”

“I think that was the point, little one. Not for the others, but for me and Sloan.” There was no use holding back and pretending with Silver. So he spoke plainly. “We will get through each and every game, deal with every situation in a way that’s best for the team, but at the end of the day, we aren’t friends. He will go home with your sister, and I’ve accepted that.”

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, that’s good, I guess. But…” She sighed and looked down at her hand on his arm. “Where does that leave you? You aren’t training anyone at the club. You’re not moving on.”

“I’ve moved on. Don’t worry—just because I’m single doesn’t mean I’m pining over your sister. I’m focused on the game.” Not the full truth, but he didn’t need to bare his soul to Silver. “Enough meddling now, pet. How’s Amia doing?”

Silver’s eyes brightened at the mention of her daughter. She smiled, practically glowing with pride. “She’s taken her first steps, but she still crawls more than anything. She talks nonstop, but I have no idea what she’s saying most of the time. Dean said that’s normal. You should see her.”

“I’d like that.”

“Sahara offered to babysit while we go to Casey’s spring concert next Thursday. You could always—”

He chuckled and put his finger over Silver’s lips. “I don’t need you setting me up with Sahara. We are good friends. I’m not sure why people think there’s more going on.”

She snorted and folded her arms over her small breasts. “You’re full of shit. When you’re together, it’s obvious—”

“Careful, Silver.” Dominik didn’t bother lowering his voice as he spotted the team’s starting goalie, Landon Bower, ambling down the hall. Silver was his fiancée and the mother of his child, but Bower was a proficient Master who expected his sub to behave herself when addressing other Doms. Letting him handle Silver was the quickest way out of the conversation. Her smirk proved she hadn’t noticed Bower’s approach. There was some satisfaction in wiping it off her face with his next words. “I have no tolerance for rudeness. Your Masters are creative with their punishments. Don’t force me to request they give you one on my behalf.”

Her eyes widened and the color faded from her cheeks. “You wouldn’t—”

“He won’t have to.” Bower slid his hand under Silver’s hair and took a firm hold on the back of her neck. “Apologize and come with me. Dean had a special night planned for us, but I have a feeling we’ll have to address your behavior first.”

“But I…” Silver cut herself off at a dark look from Bower. She dropped her gaze to the tip of her pink high-heeled shoes as she did what she’d been told. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“You’re forgiven, sweetheart.” Dominik met Bower’s eyes and inclined his head. The man wouldn’t be too hard on Silver, but she’d likely think twice before playing matchmaker again. He watched the couple walk down the hall, then headed in the other direction toward the gym’s locker room. After a quick shower, he changed into blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Pulled on his wool, khaki-colored jacket, and grabbed his sports bag. In the parking lot, he hesitated beside his pickup truck and pulled out his phone.

Despite her improper approach, Silver had a point. There’d been the potential of a relationship between him and Sahara. He wasn’t sure who’d decided to draw the line at friendship. She’d stopped approaching him at the club—actually, he couldn’t recall the last time she’d been at the BDSM club where he served as a Dungeon Monitor every weekend. Maybe she’d gotten over her attempts at being a sub to draw the attention of the team’s owner, Lorenzo Keane. Dominik found her beautiful and alluring, but he had no interest in a woman playing at being submissive.

But there was chemistry between them that he couldn’t deny. He’d pushed the possibilities aside to focus on the game, but there was more to life. He could tell everyone who asked that he was moving on from his failed relationship with Oriana, yet he hadn’t done a thing to prove it. Maybe he should.

He dialed Sahara’s number. No answer. So he left a message. “Hey, sweet lady. Been a while, so I thought we could catch up over dinner. My treat.”

Straightforward and simple, but as he hung up, he couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted her to call back. Training subs, putting his all out there on the ice, were things he knew how to do. But taking that first step into a future that didn’t involve Oriana was different.

He was fine with it. For the most part. But when he closed his eyes, he could still see himself growing old with her. Still remember how often he’d seen his children with her eyes. Her smile.

In his mind, he knew that would never happen. But he couldn’t lie to himself as easily as he lied to everyone else.

Oriana still had his heart. And he had a feeling she always would.

Sahara picked up her phone. Put it down. Then brought her hands up to tug her hair and groaned really loud when Jami laughed. Today was not her day.

Jami had shown up at her door about twenty minutes ago, acting like she just wanted to visit. Except, Luke Carter was with her. Sahara had no problem with her friend’s fiancé, but Jami wasn’t in the habit of bringing him along when they hung out. What the hell was he going to do while they chatted about the insanity of Sahara’s life? And discussed how Dominik had left her a message asking her out like it was the most normal thing in the world?

She’d let Jami hear the message, and they’d sat on the couch and discussed how she should respond, but Luke sitting in the kitchen playing Angry Birds on his phone was still weird.

Jami and Akira had probably talked about what had gone down with Cort. After all Jami had been through in the past, right down to having her very own demented stalker, her men were understandably protective. But it wasn’t like Sahara would invite Grant over while Jami was here and let him—damn it, he wasn’t some kind of animal! He’d never hurt anyone without reason.

So he had a reason to hurt you?

Yes. No. Hell, she didn’t want to think about him now. She wanted to think about what to say to Dominik. And she needed her best friend’s help.

She wouldn’t ask Akira. At this point, she’d be lucky if Akira ever spoke to her again. But she needed Jami not to be laughing at her. This was serious. And messed up. And damn confusing.

“Stop it!” Sahara tossed her phone on the sofa beside Jami and sat on the coffee table. “You may have done great throwing yourself at Seb, but I—”

“Whoa, Sahara. You really want to go there?” Jami’s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward, her hands on her knees. “If you want to do bitch-chick mode, I’m up for it, but that’s fucking low. Yes, I went after Sebastian, but I don’t judge you for being scared of starting a new relationship. It’s a fucking date—”

“Jami, boo, please retract the claws.” Luke came into the room and Sahara groaned again. There was no way he could improve the situation. And he only had to open his mouth to prove it. “You’re friends. Sahara needs to get back in the game. How about telling her why she should go out with Mason? He’s big and sexy and has a nice ass—”

“You are taking Sebastian’s suggestion of embracing who you are way too seriously, Luke.” Jami cocked her head as Luke sat on the arm of the sofa. “You do know Mason would dismember you if you hit on him, right?”

“Naw, he’d just laugh at me. Seb, however…” Luke smiled and closed his eyes as though picturing their Dom’s reaction. “He might beat me within an inch of my life. He’s so possessive lately.”

“Umm, yeah. You are a freak.” Jami patted Luke’s knee fondly before returning her attention to Sahara. “Look, here’s the deal. Neither you nor Dominik are looking for anything serious right now. He’ll treat you great, you’ll have fun, and I insist you make it perfectly clear to Grant that going back to him is not an option.”

“Annnnnd we’re back on that.” Sahara sighed. So much for not thinking about him. “Jami, I’m not an idiot. Grant is…a friend.”

Jami covered her face with her hands. “And you’re not an idiot?”

Luke grabbed Jami’s ponytail and tugged, frowning at her. “Jami—”

“Luke.” Jami made a face at him. “In the kitchen, man of mine, before I beat you to death myself.”

Hopping off the arm of the sofa, Luke turned, leaning down to take Jami’s head between his hands and kiss her long and hard. He rose, winked at Sahara, and then disappeared into the kitchen.

“Don’t mind him. He keeps telling me I should be nice, but with how cold he is to his sister…”

Yes! Sahara sat forward, motioning for Jami to go on. Talking about Luke’s sister was a much safer topic.

“Oh, fine, I’ll change the subject, but only because I love you.” Jami gave Sahara a crooked smile and sat back against the sofa. “She’s a hot mess, but she’s such a sweetie once you get past the attitude. We had another ultrasound just the other day. She’s really starting to show, and our baby boy is getting so big! Sebastian is helping me set up a nursery. Luke helps too, but only when Sam’s at work.”

“She’s working? I thought she got fired.” Sahara could remember at least two jobs Sam had gotten and held for no more than a day. The girl insisted she wanted to support herself, but she’d stolen from both her employers. It was almost like she couldn’t help herself.

Jami shrugged, hunching her shoulders and staring at her hands. “Silver pulled some strings and got her working at one of the concession stands at the Forum. I hated asking because Silver wants me to talk to my dad and I can’t, so it’s weird. But…anyway, Sam doesn’t work at the cash register, so all she can steal is pretzels. She’s doing all right.”

“That’s good.” Sahara rolled her eyes as Jami picked up her phone and handed it to her. The temporary reprieve was over. Either she called Dominik or Jami would force her to explain why she was avoiding him. Not that she was, exactly. She clasped her hands around her phone and chewed on her bottom lip.

“Do you want me to stay here or give you some privacy?” Jami’s tone was soft, like she finally understood how hard this was. She knew about Sahara’s casual lovers, knew that Sahara had been crushing on the Cobras’ owner for way too long, but she couldn’t seem to let go of her concern over Sahara not moving on.

And maybe she was right to. Grant coming over was messed up. Sahara wouldn’t deny that, and she wouldn’t deny that dating would be healthy and liberating, and it would close and lock the door to Grant in a way that saying “We’re just friends” couldn’t do.

Besides, she liked being around Dominik. Liked the way he smiled at her, the way he watched out for her at the club, the way she’d felt ready to go along with whatever he suggested.

If only he’d taken the lead with all the chances she’d given him. Then again, they’d either been around other players, or her friends, or at the club. They’d never truly been alone. And now they would be.

“Go keep your fiancé busy. I don’t care if you make out, but if you fuck on my table—”

Jami snickered as she stood. “That was my table too until this morning. And I always washed it after—”

“No! I didn’t need to know that!” Sahara shoved Jami toward the kitchen, laughing. Her friends were out of their minds, but she loved them anyway. She searched for Dominik’s name on her phone and dialed before she could think about it too much. She was in a good mood and she wasn’t scared anymore. Nothing would happen unless she let it.

Which was one of the most wonderful things about the man. He always gave her a choice, and maybe one day, the choice would be she didn’t want the option to run away anymore.

“Hello, sunshine.” Dominik’s voice sent a dark thrill right through her. Deep and rich, like a mouthful of Black Forest cake so delicious she’d never forget the way it tasted even after she licked her plate clean. “I wasn’t sure you’d call me back.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should.” Sahara moved to the sofa, tucking her feet under her as she toyed with her hair. “What made you decide to call?”

“I missed you.”

“Did you?” Inhaling, Sahara shifted, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them with one arm. “You were the one who told me not to come to the club until I knew why I wanted to be there.”

“This is true. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you.”

“You’re a Dom. You should be looking for girls at—”

“I’m a man, Sahara. Let’s not make this complicated.” His gentle chiding reminded her so much of how he’d treated her at the club. As a Dom who cared for her, but would never push her to submit. “We can have dinner as friends if you’d like. No pressure.”

Saying yes would be so easy, but she didn’t want “just friends” with him. Not today, not after putting that wall up between herself and Grant. She didn’t need a wall between her and Dominik. “I thought it was a date. I…I wanted to know when you were coming to pick me up.”

Silence, and then a soft laugh. “I’d braced myself for a polite no. I need time to get ready, so let’s say around five thirty?”

Less than an hour. She giggled, feeling unexpectedly giddy. A deep breath and she was able to give him a coherent answer. “That works. If you need time to get ready, I’m guessing I should dress nice?”

“Don’t tempt me, girl.” The low growl in Dominik’s tone had Sahara pressing her thighs together and holding her breath. “If you give me the opening, I will tell you exactly what to wear.”

“What if that’s exactly what I want?” Sahara was playing with fire, but she didn’t care. With Dominik’s control wrapping around her like the sleekest silk ropes, she’d never felt more freedom. “Tell me what will please you, Sir.”

A chuckle that made all the hairs on the back of her neck rise and Dominik replied. “So naughty. Wear a red dress and leave your hair loose. I’m warning you now, Sahara. No matter how much you beg, you will get no more than a kiss from me tonight.”

Sahara’s lips parted. She swallowed hard. “Why would I beg?”

He let out a soft, amused sound. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

The call ended. Sahara brought the phone to her chest and fell back on the sofa, squealing so loud Jami rushed into the room, leaning over her and staring at her like she’d gone nuts.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful. He’s…he’s amazing. And he wants to go on a date with me.” Clearly, but Jami couldn’t possibly understand what that meant. “A real date!”

That didn’t make anything clear, but Sahara shot off the sofa and ran to her room to find her sexiest red dress. She had tears in her eyes and she wasn’t even sure why. Except…well, she’d avoided relationships because she couldn’t trust a single man who lusted after her. Going to the club, she knew she was safe. And that was because Dominik was always there. And he was the only one she needed with her tonight.

She wasn’t damaged. Wasn’t broken. A wonderful, caring man wanted to take her out and…

It’s just a date, Sahara. Her hands shook as she pulled the dress from her closet and laid it on her bed. She was making way too much of this. She needed to relax or he’d think she was a head case. Not that he didn’t already know, with how often she’d had to safe word during a scene and crawl away in shame.

He understands.

She didn’t doubt that at all. He would probably give her good advice about Grant if she told him about this morning, but she didn’t even want to bring up her ex. Tonight was for her and Dominik. No past, no fear. Nothing but him and her and so many possibilities.

“No more than a kiss.”

The idea of him kissing her made her heart flutter. She threw herself on her bed and laughed into her hands. After the morning she’d had, the evening couldn’t have turned out more wonderful. She heard someone come into her room and peeked through her fingers at Jami.

Who sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand away from her face. “So…you’re happy?”

“I am.” Sahara sniffed and swiped away her silly tears. “And I think I really will be. I don’t want to get too excited, but…”

Jami waited for her to continue, and when she didn’t, simply lay down beside her and grinned. “It’s about fucking time. You deserve this.”

Okay, that was going a little far. Sahara didn’t think she deserved happiness more than anyone else. But she wanted it.

And for the first time, she really believed it was possible.

* * *

Dressed in charcoal slacks and jacket, with a white shirt and black tie and a warm, dark gray wool coat because it was still damn cold out, Dominik stepped up to Sahara’s door and knocked softly. He was well aware that he looked like he was going somewhere fancy. He wanted Sahara to see she deserved the best. Her uncertainty had him reassessing their every encounter, and he was determined to make this one different.

Behind the door, he heard rapid footsteps. Shouting—yes, that was Jami. He grinned, recalling the girl as a shy young teen before she’d gone through her rebellious phase. Now she’d grown into an intelligent, feisty young woman who’d enveloped Sahara in her close-knit group of friends. Friends she was quite protective of.

He wondered if she would have a few things to say to him before he left with Sahara. The door opened and he snorted as Carter let out a heavy sigh and gestured for him to come in.

“If it helps any, she looks really hot.” Carter shut the door behind them and led the way to the small kitchen. He reached into the fridge for a beer, shutting it after Dominik turned down his offer for one. “There’s some lipstick drama going on. They might be a while.”

Nothing new, Dominik had waited on women before dates in the past. He’d never seen Sahara out and about without the extra polish she honestly didn’t need. But he wouldn’t rush her. If putting on just the right lipstick made her more comfortable, all the better.

He sat with Carter in the living room with one ankle propped on his knee, only half listening to the young man until an unexpected subject came up. He dropped his foot and leaned forward. “Ramos is letting you and Jami try to have a baby?”

Carter’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not his damn pets, Mason!” He rolled his eyes when Dominik arched a brow. “Not like that. You know what I mean. It’s not so much that we’re trying. We’re just not trying not to anymore. And he’s doing his fair share.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“There could be a little me in nine months!”

Dominik smiled as the situation became clear. “And you’re scared to death.”

“Fuck yes.” Carter kept his tone low as he rubbed his thighs. “It’s just a lot, you know? Getting married with her dad hating me so much, making a kid a real possibility. I want to be with her and Seb forever, and everything is awesome, but…I know it won’t be easy. I just want everything to be perfect for her.”

Well, the boy’s growing up after all. Dominik patted Carter’s forearm as he met his eyes. “If you weren’t a little afraid, I’d say you were a fool. Both you and Jami are very young, but not so young that you’re not capable of being great parents. It could take a long time or she could be pregnant already. Despite the situation with her father, you know you’re not alone. You, Jami, and Ramos have a strong relationship and so much to offer. And you know the team will be there for you.”

Swallowing hard, Carter nodded. “Right. And she’s got Silver. And the other girls. But…wow. That wasn’t what I was expecting from you.”

Of course not. Knowing Carter, this wasn’t the first time he’d had this conversation. But Dominik was curious. “What were you expecting?”

“Umm, something like we’re too young. Wait until we’re married. We’re not ready and—”

“And I’m not one to waste my time lecturing you on things you already know. I can’t tell you if you’re ready. But I can tell you to take care of my girl, which you’ll probably hear from most of the guys. Jami will always be the little girl we watched grow up, and both you and Ramos will have to answer to all of us if you hurt her.” Dominik gave Carter a pleasant, warning smile. “Not sure what else there is to say.”

“Got it. And I won’t. She’s my boo.” Carter turned at footsteps coming down the hall, opening his arms as Jami came over to sit on his lap. He held her close and kissed her shoulder. “How you feeling?”

“I heard you talking. And I’m not pregnant, so stop worrying. I’m so telling Sebastian what you were saying, and you’re gonna have to bag it again, stud.” She planted a kiss on his cheek as he groaned, then hopped up to give Dominik a hug. “You, however, are awesome. I was going to warn you to treat Sahara good, but I’m not worried.”

Dominik gave Jami a little squeeze, making an “I’m watching you” gesture with two fingers pointed from his eyes to Carter while she settled back on his thighs. She giggled as Carter fell back against the sofa with his hands over his face.

The discussion turned to less serious topics, but Sahara still hadn’t come out. Dominik suspected she was overthinking things and decided to put a stop to that.

Jami grabbed his arm when he stood. “She’s coming.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Dominik glanced down at Jami’s hand, pleased when she moved it without having to be told. He might not even consider being dominant toward the girl, but she knew better than to lay her hands on men who weren’t hers.

Or perhaps he’d grown too accustomed to club protocol. Regardless, he’d come here for Sahara and he didn’t need Carter and Jami as chaperones. The whole setup was mildly amusing, but enough was enough.

He headed down the hall quietly, listening to the shuffling just beyond the last door. And the frustrated groan. He cleared his throat. “Please tell me you’re not worried about looking perfect for me, Sahara. That takes no effort at all.”

Another groan and a strained laugh. “Great, now I feel silly.”

“Which is adorable.” He leaned against the wall by the door. “But either way, I don’t want the fact that this is an ‘official date’ to change how comfortable you’ve been with me in the past. I’m not a new man you’re trying to impress. I’m a man who already is.”

The doorknob turned and the door opened a crack. He heard her take a deep breath before she came out.

Then it was his turn to take in as much oxygen as possible. Sahara always looked amazing, but in a snug, crimson lace dress, clinging to all her curves and falling to just above her knees, she was sexy and elegant all at once. There was something vulnerable in her eyes, in her stance even though she stood with her shoulders back and head held high. He found it hard to believe that she didn’t know how beautiful she was, but maybe that wasn’t the issue at all. The way she looked at him was expectant, almost shy. As though she wanted to know she’d pleased him.

She had, but he hadn’t asked her out just to have a gorgeous woman on his arm. He could call his agent and have his pick of models to make an appearance. He wanted the woman he’d had easy conversations with. The woman he’d held while she cried after the loss of the coach they’d all loved so much.

He could have made this easier on them both by taking her somewhere simple, to a movie, out bowling or…there were many options, but none that would make his intentions clear. He wasn’t taking Sahara out because he had nothing better to do. There was something between them that he wanted to explore. Tonight would be special. Possibly a new beginning.

“Look at me.” He tipped her chin up with a finger. “What do you see?”

Her lips parted. Then she bit her lush, glistening, red bottom lip. “I see you. You look…very handsome, but you’re still the same man who’s been there for me, at the club and…and for a long time.”

Inclining his head, he gave her a broad smile. “Good girl. Now, you do know that there may be photos of the two of us online before the end of the night. It will go much better if you don’t seem afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Dominik.” She exhaled and laughed. “I have no reason to be.”

Well now, he wouldn’t go that far. A little fear made things interesting. He pulled her close and brushed her ear with his lips. “That’s cute. Shall I give you a reason?”

She went perfectly still, her little gasp hot against the side of his neck. “Umm…”

He chuckled and backed up a pace, offering her his arm. “There’s no rush. Are you hungry?”

Red spread across the tops of her cheeks. She clearly wasn’t thinking about food. But she nodded. “Did you make reservations somewhere?”

“I did.” He checked his watch, relieved that he’d shown up early, because they had just enough time to make the six o’clock seating. “Thank God you’re low maintenance. Any longer and we’d have to make new plans for the night.”

Her brow rose as though to say he was full of it, but she didn’t comment as she led the way down the hall to fetch her jacket from the hooks by the door. Jami and Carter quickly joined them and they all left together, Sahara pausing to lock up.

They parted in the parking lot. Dominik opened the passenger seat of his black Range Rover, offering Sahara a hand and making sure she was comfortably settled before going around to the driver’s side.

Before he’d even pulled onto the street, Sahara had the radio on. She flicked through each station, cocking her head to listen to the first few seconds of each song. Then she wrinkled her nose and glanced over at him.

“Do you have any CDs?”

“No, but my iPod’s in the glove compartment. See if there’s anything you like on my playlists.”

She pulled out his iPod, then continued checking the glove compartment. “Is there a wire?”

“No, it’s wireless.” He grinned when she ducked her head, her cheeks going red again. “Just pick a song and play.”

There was silence, then Sahara let out a sound of excitement. “Oh! I love this song!”

“Bottoms Up” by Brantley Gilbert came on, a newer country song with a sultry beat and a naughty, sexual outlaw theme. When he stopped at a red light, Dominik watched Sahara out of the corner of his eye as she swayed to the music, singing softly. He had to admit, he’d expected her to find one of the few Top 40 songs he’d downloaded. Or at least show some surprise at his taste in music.

Instead, she spent the entire drive picking songs she clearly knew, losing her shyness halfway there and singing loud enough for him to enjoy the sweetness of her voice. There was a slight New York edge to her tone, and she didn’t hit all the notes right, but he liked listening to her. Seeing how the country tunes had her letting go. They’d have fun on a road trip. On the open highway, in the summer, with the windows rolled down and the music blaring, he had a feeling she’d be right in her element.

Hell, she’d probably love going to his older brother Joshua’s place down in West Virginia. When his brother wasn’t stationed somewhere overseas, he was on the ranch he owned with two of his college buddies. The place was the complete opposite of where they’d grown up. Miles from the closest town, but it suited him.

It was a bit early to be thinking of taking that kind of trip with Sahara, but after pulling in front of the Halifax Dinner Theatre, he couldn’t help meeting her eyes as he lifted her from the seat and lowered her to the sidewalk.

The question just came out. “Have you ever been to a tailgate party?”

She blinked and a smile spread across her lips, so big you’d have thought he’d just told her she’d won tickets to the Super Bowl. Or…well, maybe she wasn’t that into football. Maybe a trip to the Caribbean.

He was definitely overthinking things now, but whatever excited her, his question was on that list.

“I wish! Jami was telling me Max had a tailgate party for his thirtieth birthday and Oriana showed her pictures, and it looked like so much…” Sahara bit her bottom lip. “Actually, you were probably there.”

“I was.” Dominik put his hand on the small of her back to guide her inside as she looked up at the sign where a harlequin figurine perched. Then she turned her head from side to side to take in the theatrical décor of the lobby. His mind was no longer on the possible future. He remembered that day, sitting with Oriana in the back of Max’s father’s truck, believing life couldn’t get any more perfect. Even at his brother’s ranch, he hadn’t felt as at home as he had on the farm where Max grew up. Early mornings, doing chores with Max and Sloan, coming in smelly and sweaty to a hearty breakfast Oriana had prepared with Max’s aunts.

That wasn’t his life anymore. And dwelling on memories while he was with Sahara wasn’t fair.

At the end of the lobby, a man dressed as a pirate greeted them with an exaggerated accent and brought them to the table Dominik had reserved, a few feet from center stage. He and his younger brother, Cam, had brought their mother here last time she’d come to visit and she’d loved it. He couldn’t say why he’d decided on this place for his date with Sahara, except for the fact that he wanted to avoid anything stiff and awkward. Hopefully, she’d have as much fun as he and his family had.

They settled in and the waiter—also dressed as a pirate—came with their salad. Sahara took a few bites, chewing thoughtfully. Then she set down her fork.

He knew, just by the expression on her face, that whatever she had to say wouldn’t get their night off to a good start.

And he was right.

“Did you see her today? Is that why you asked me out?” She dropped her gaze to her napkin. “Not that it matters, but I want to be prepared. I’ve seen what you expect from subs and…and Oriana is perfect. I can’t compete with her.”

“It’s not a competition, sunshine.” He meant every word, but he could tell she didn’t believe him. Which was his own damn fault. It was no secret how things between him and Oriana had ended. His teammates tended to avoid mentioning her at all.

But the point was, the relationship was over. He was here with Sahara, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Putting his hand over Sahara’s, he leaned forward, speaking low. “I never brought her here. She wouldn’t enjoy the…crude humor in some of the acts. But I think you will.”

She wrinkled her nose. “So you think I’m into ‘crude humor’?”

He laughed and tapped her nose. “I have no idea. But I’d like to find out.” He stroked the back of her hand. “When I considered all the places I could bring you, it occurred to me how much I love the way you laugh.”

“So why not a comedy show?”

“Sammy Sugar’s the only big act in town. I can’t stand him—I had a feeling you wouldn’t like him either.”

“Ugh, no. I’ve seen his shows and he kinda pisses me off.” She speared a piece of salad with her fork, taking a bite and letting out a soft sound of pleasure. “Mmm, I love this salad dressing. Maybe you made a good choice on coming here after all.”

Well, he was happy she approved, but her comment amused him. “Based on the salad?”

Cocking her head in thought, she shrugged. “The service is good too. And to be honest, this place isn’t as formal as I thought it would be based on what you’re wearing. I mean, other people are dressed nicely, but there’s no snobbishness. I don’t have to worry about knowing which fork to use.”

“I do aim to keep the cutlery simple on first dates.” He winked when she rolled her eyes at him. So far, so good. She appeared at ease and the first act was about to start. Better yet, the topic of his ex had been abandoned.

They both focused on the stage as the actors, all decked out as pirates or various members of the crew, put on an original show, complete with singing and dancing and quite a lot of exaggerated gyrating. Maybe not crude, but there was a sexual humor to the whole act and many of the jokes were pretty raunchy.

Dominik glanced over at Sahara and grinned as she giggled when their performing waiter caught her eye in the middle of a joke about fainting maidens. When the act ended, the waiter came over and snatched up Sahara’s napkin, folding it and fanning her with it when she pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were red from laughing so much.

The young man gave Dominik a sideways glance before sweeping the napkin over Sahara’s lap and moving as though to kiss her on the cheek. Dominik’s eyes narrowed and Sahara ducked out of reach, which, strangely enough, pleased him. With a dramatic bow, the waiter shifted away from her and gathered their empty plates.

After the second course was served, the actors prepared for the next act. Sahara smiled at Dominik, looking so happy he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He’d rarely seen her this carefree and relaxed.

Actually, he couldn’t recall feeling this laid-back himself. There was no pressure. Instead of the tension of a first, awkward date, this felt like spending time with a friend. One he hoped would become more.

Just before the show continued, Sahara returned her hand to his and met his eyes. “Thank you for bringing me here. I was so nervous, but you’ve proved I don’t have to be. Not with you.”

He turned his hand, stroking her long, delicate fingers with his thumb, amazed at how comfortable he felt touching her. She didn’t come off as the type of woman to play games, and he could tell she wasn’t holding back from him. His only regret was not bringing her somewhere where they could talk more. He wanted to know more about her. What she liked. What she wanted.

But that would come. There was no need to rush things; they were off to a good start.

“I’m glad you like it. Cam wasn’t crazy about the food, but my brother’s spoiled rotten. He goes home a few times a month just so our mother can cook for him and he can complain that nothing else measures up.” Dominik took a bite of his steak, thinking about how Cam had mentioned their mother’s homemade BBQ sauce was ten times better. He had to agree, and their mother had been flattered, but as someone who didn’t have the luxury of home-cooked meals very often, Dominik was more than satisfied.

Sahara chewed slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’m a decent cook, but I find the best meal is one you don’t have to make.”

“Very true.” The act had begun, but Dominik could tell Sahara wanted to talk, so he gave her his full attention.

“Can I ask you something?”

He inclined his head, about to tell her she already had, but refrained when she hunched her shoulders and dropped her gaze. Whatever she had to say was too serious for him to start teasing her.

“You’re playing Grant’s team. I know you guys don’t like him because of the past, but…” Her brow furrowed. She looked frustrated. “What he did was horrible, but it’s in the past. He recently lost his mother and he’s trying to change. I don’t want him targeted because of me.”

Dominik clenched his fist under the table, thinking of all the times Grant Higgins had instigated fights on the ice, calling Sahara names and taunting those who cared for her. She should have pressed charges a long time ago and made the man pay for what he’d done to her. Dominik didn’t know the extent of Higgins’s abuse, but he did know Sahara had still had bruises when she’d joined the Cobras’ Ice Girl team.

The man wouldn’t even be playing in the league anymore if charges had been filed. Cases like this were on the news all the time, and no professional sports team would tolerate that kind of behavior. Unfortunately, rumors didn’t hold much weight, and Sahara seemed to have decided getting out of reach was enough.

Perhaps Higgins had made some drastic changes after his mother’s death. Dominik had a hard time trusting that, but telling Sahara as much would only drive a wedge between them. He had to take her lead, despite his misgivings.

So he schooled his features and nodded. “I’ll do my best to keep the games clean, but I take no responsibility for Demyan’s reactions. Higgins seems to enjoy pushing his buttons.”

“He won’t anymore. And don’t worry about Scott, I’ll talk to him.”

“Fair enough.” Dominik took another bite of steak as he shifted his attention back to the stage.

He could feel Sahara’s gaze locked on the side of his face. “That’s it?”

Brow arched, Dominik turned back to Sahara. He wasn’t sure why everyone expected him to react badly whenever they told him about their problems. He didn’t consider himself a judgmental man, but perhaps he came across that way?

“My turn to ask you a question.” Dominik steepled his fingers and regarded Sahara for a moment before continuing. “Did you expect me to be unreasonable? Or tell you how to handle the situation?”

She ducked her head and her cheeks reddened. “I don’t mind you telling me what to do.”

He tightened his lips and shook his head. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“All right, fine.” She wrinkled her nose, a habit she had that he found endearing. And distracting. If they were at the club, he’d be tempted to spank her for what edged on brattiness, but they weren’t and he couldn’t let her lead the conversation in that direction.

Not yet anyway.

Tonguing her bottom lip, she studied his face. “Apparently kink is off the table.”

“A fact I’m sure the staff here appreciates. Bending you over the table to punish you for being a brat would make the other patrons uncomfortable.” So much for steering clear of that subject. Dominik leaned back in his chair and smiled at the way she covered her cheeks to hide her blush. “Will you answer me now?”

Picking up her glass of water, she took a sip, then licked her lips. “I respect your opinion, and I appreciate how you’ve stuck up for me in the past. I was afraid you’d be disappointed in me for forgiving him.”

“Have you?”

“I…” She frowned, as though she wasn’t sure. “I feel bad for him, and I’m hoping he’s serious about changing. I wouldn’t mind being friends with him, but I’m not stupid. I’ll be careful about it.” Her gaze met Dominik’s, and he could tell she was looking for his approval again. He wasn’t sure he could give it, but he inclined his head so she’d continue. “I don’t expect anyone to understand. I guess… I fell in love with him for a reason. Even though I’ll never feel that way about him again, part of me wants to see him as the man I know he can be. I can’t forget what he did, but not forgiving him feels like I haven’t moved on. And I have.”

Her reasoning made a lot of sense. Dominik was still concerned that Higgins would take advantage of Sahara giving him any opening to get close to her.

“What makes you think no one will understand? Everyone’s seen the steps you’ve taken to protect yourself. You’ve been taking self-defense for quite a while. You’re not the same woman who came to us with bruises, shying away from sudden movements.” He had to force his tone to stay level as the memories came to him and rage simmered within. The color had left her cheeks and he took her hand, knowing all she needed from him right now was his support. “I won’t lie to you. I hope you won’t regret offering him your friendship, but you’re not walking into this blindly. Forgive, but don’t forget. Even if he screws up—which he damn well better not—you’ve got to do what’s right for you.”

“Thank you!” Her eyes brightened and she lunged forward to hug him. Her lips brushed his throat as he held her. “Akira’s so mad at me, and Cort…”

She slipped out of Dominik’s arms and sat back in her chair. Then she went over what had happened with Higgins and Cort earlier that day. Dominik was tempted to call Cort and thank him, but Sahara wouldn’t appreciate that if she found out. His only option was to make sure she knew he’d be there for her no matter what.

Thankfully, she was eager to change the subject, so conversation moved to the playoffs and the next show the Cobras’ Ice Girls would put on. She brought up the club a couple of times with offhand, teasing remarks, but he refused to take the bait. Their interactions at the club they both went to, had mostly consisted of her acting out and him having to discipline her because he was one of the regular Dungeon Monitors. He missed seeing her there, but neither of them was ready to delve into the lifestyle. He couldn’t say for sure he was even interested in being a Dom anymore. To her or anyone else.

“Is it me?” She let out a frustrated sound when he dodged another remark about BDSM by bringing up her music choices for the Ice Girls’ next performance. He opened his mouth to assure her it wasn’t, but she cut him off. “I know I’m not the perfect sub, but I could learn to—”

“I’m not looking for a sub, Sahara.” He took her hand, squeezing gently to soften the impact of his words. He used his other hand to tilt her chin up when she dropped her gaze. “Hey, that’s not a bad thing. What that means is what we’re doing, right here, is all I want.”

She nibbled her bottom lip, her eyes sad. “But you need more.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Really?” She brushed her hand over her chest as though there were crumbs there, a crooked smile on her lips. “So do you like the dress? I’m happy I didn’t have to choose my own outfit; we would have missed the first act.”

Cheeky little thing, isn’t she? Dominik chuckled and tugged her closer, whispering against her lips. “Are you fishing for compliments, pet?”

“No, Sir.” She held still as he gently stroked her lips with his. Then sighed when he shifted away. “Dominik—”

“Watch the show, Sahara.” He wasn’t sure whether he should spank her or bring her home with him, but for the moment, she had a point. He did need to exert some control. Over himself. “You’ll like how this ends.”