The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(20)
“Two can play at that game,” Kylie said. “Maybe it’s you who’s not compatible. Give the guy a chance. Or at least some guy a chance.”
“I thought you told me to find a poet or painter. Or a barista.”
“Oh, forget what I said. Call him… apologize… talk dirty to him… whatever it takes.”
“I don’t have his number,” Eloise commented dryly. That wasn’t quite true. As a director, she had access to everyone’s contact information if she needed it.
Kylie sputtered and turned on her pink Nike-clad heel. “For heaven’s sake, Eloise. I’ve got his number. I’ll get it for you!”
Eloise pressed her lips together, suppressing a huge smile. She’d keep the barista part secret from her for a while. As she settled into her high-backed, leather executive chair, her phone beeped with Kylie’s text. She looked at the highlighted mobile number displayed on the screen. Two time zones away, Cole would likely be on the ice now for practice before the Kings game later tonight. She began to type out a text.
Eloise: Gd morning mr fiorino… pardon the intrusion… how r things in LA… apologies 4 my behavior at dinner… forgive me?
She set the device down on her desktop and carried on with her work, not expecting a reply. To her surprise, a response beeped a few minutes later.
Cole: LA all good… even donut ldys deserve 2nd chance… gonna kick ass tonite now that ur not mad at me ?
Eloise: Lol not mad… just a heads up… town hall mtg scheduled next Tues 8pm… keep it dl…need just a few players…can u be there?
Minutes ticked by that seemed like hours. Eloise chafed at the waiting… and the anxiety she felt while doing it. Because it was a ruse. She really just wanted to see him again, and this would force the issue. Knowing his feelings about Blues & Brews, he’d be at the town hall and pull out all the charming stops, Fiorino style. Still, she felt like she couldn’t breathe until she heard from him. Ridiculous. Stop it. Beep. She grabbed at the screen.
Cole: Be there w donuts on ?
She exhaled a lungful of air she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Wearing donuts? A naughty picture appeared in her head. That alone would be worth the price of admission. Beep. Eloise jumped.
Cole: Drinks afterward?
Eloise: Absolutely… c u then… kick some LA ass ?
Cole: I’d rather look at yours
Eloise smiled at the frank statement and did not mind one bit. She felt a little thaw of her icy chill course through her torso and land straight between her legs.
Chapter Eight
A few hours before the Town Hall began, Eloise and Kylie readied the training room, setting up chairs and arranging for the refreshments to be catered in. Kylie had photocopied handouts for the Riot for Rochester campaign and had the comp tickets in hand for the next home game to be raffled off as a goodwill gesture. Security people waited at the main entrance to direct the guests upstairs to the meeting room.
“I think we’re ready,” Kylie said, glancing around at all their handiwork. “It looks polished and professional. Hopefully, no one will go ballistic.”
“I doubt it,” Eloise agreed. “But it does look good. I’m bagged already, and we haven’t even started.”
Kylie chuckled. “Let’s relax for a few minutes. Doors open in fifteen.” She took a chair behind the registration desk set up near the entrance.
“Good idea,” Eloise said, settling onto a director’s style chair near the mike up front. Movement near the door caught her eye, and Eloise looked up to see Cole enter the room, dressed casually in a sleeveless Nike training shirt and jeans. Kylie glanced over as well, and with eyes wide, threw Eloise a “holy cow” look. Her heart pounded a steady rhythm coursing the blood through her veins.
“Hi, Cole,” Kylie said with a flirty wave and excused herself from the room.
Obvious much?
Once Eloise got past the delicious-looking muscles of his biceps and deltoids, she noticed the sinuous tribal tattoos inked into his arms and shoulders, and her stomach did a flip-flop. Though they had no formal relationship as yet, it struck Eloise how much she’d missed Cole while he’d been away. The vision of him advancing toward her in all his masculine glory, his tatted arms and powerful thighs on full display sent a jolt of possessiveness through her.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi, yourself,” she replied with a smile, rising from her chair. “Nine points in four games. Pretty good road trip, I’d say.”
“Yup.” He nodded, the usual careful grooming of his thick head of black hair a bit more casual this evening. “But it’s good to be home,” he said, stepping in close to her. “I guess it’s home now, even though I haven’t been here long.”
With their full-foot height differential, she had to look up into his face and got lost in the azure-blue bliss of his gaze. Both of them seemed at a loss for words as he smiled down at her. Eloise inhaled in an attempt to steady her rioting emotions and it just sounded as if she’d taken an angry hiss.
“Welcome home, then,” she finally whispered to recover, and in the next moment, his arms were around her, and his lips covered hers, insistent yet gentle. The softness of his mouth contrasted against the rough stubble grazing her cheeks. Eloise felt faint, her body melting against him as it relinquished all control. She could taste cinnamon as his tongue thrust into her mouth, searching, exploring. Red Hots. It suited him. All fire and tang. She couldn’t remember a more powerful kiss, and succumbed to it, not caring if repercussions lay in wait around the nearest corner.