Bonds of Courage Read Free

launched to his feet, swiping his palms down the smooth material of his slacks to clear away the dampness. Shoulders drawn back, chin lifted, he turned to greet Seth Mathews, club owner and the man who held the key to Holden’s admittance.
    Only it wasn’t Seth who stood in the doorway. Not even close.
    The air rushed from his lungs in a quick exit before he tossed his head back, eyes closing to surround him in darkness.
    “Fuck.” The soft curse that slipped from his mouth held all the resignation and defeat that pushed on his chest. This can’t be happening. I’m so dead. I can get out of it. All of those thoughts rushed through his mind in rapid succession.
    The music ceased, and the quiet returned to emphasize the drumming of his heart. He’d been discreet. Hell, he’d been a goddamned choir boy since coming to Minnesota. Yet somehow the Ice Queen had found out.
    “Is there a problem, Mr. Hauke?”
    The smooth-as-silk voice was edged with a steely line of authority that pinged at his twenty-plus years of conditioning from listening to coaches. Not to mention growing up with three older sisters and a mother who knew how to use both “the look” and “the voice” to perfection. He lowered his chin and met Vanessa Delcour’s gaze.
    She might not be his PR rep, but she was around the Glaciers enough that he knew who she was. Hell, all the players knew who she was. There was a never-ending stream of crude jokes running through the locker room about the pounding someone would give her hot little ass. As if she’d bend over for any of them. One steely glare from her could shrivel a man’s cock faster than an ice bath after a game.
    The slow curl of trepidation clenched his throat, making his words tight. “You tell me, Ms. Delcour.”
    Her sleek black suit hugged her frame and included swatches of leather that circled her waist and accentuated her slimness. Her slight size was negated by the impossibly high heels that drew his eyes down the length of her shapely legs before he jerked his focus back up.
    The knowing smirk on her lips, matched with the cocky arch of her brow, left no doubt that she’d caught his appraisal. “Are you done?”
    The starch in her words had the hairs rising on the back of his neck. Unfortunately, it had the same effect on his dick. Fucking A.
    He quirked his brow in a mock of hers and pulled a half smile that usually had the women fluttering their lashes with an offer of a quick fuck. Falling back on his default persona filled with the expected arrogance that went with his profession was second nature. “I’m not nearly done with you, babe.”
    Her sigh was loud, the eye roll obvious enough to fit a teenager. “Really? You’re going to play those games? I thought you might be past them. Obviously I was wrong.”
    “What games?” He wet his lips and stepped back until he was leaning against the large desk behind him. Sinking down onto the edge, he crossed his arms over his chest. He could bluff his way out of this. “I’m just meeting a friend here.”
    “Right.” She flicked her long black hair over her shoulder, the glossy strands shimmering in the light. “I’m not stupid.”
    No. She definitely wasn’t.
    “Why are you here?” he finally asked.
    The sudden thought had his brow wrinkling. She wasn’t his PR rep. Hell, he didn’t have a PR rep. She had no say in what he did. In fact, she’d barely spoken to him since he’d been on the team. Was she here as a spy for Segar, or would she use this to blackmail him later?
    “I could ask you the same thing.” She sauntered toward him, hips swaying with each step that made it impossible for him not to watch. She stopped right before him, scanning him in the same way he’d done to her earlier. Her appraisal halted, eyes leveling pointedly at his crotch, which was sporting a half woody under the thin material of his pants. “But then, I know the answer to that.”
    Jesus. The woman had balls bigger than most men’s.