Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(61)

My hand goes instinctively to my belly. “Can’t really hide it anymore, can I?”

“Not so much. But you look great! Can I grab you a soda and a snack?”

“I’ll get it, Becca. Don’t miss the game on my account.”

She turns to hang up my jacket, and I actually follow her toward the quiet corner where the coat tree stands. “Hey, Becca?”

“Hmm?” She turns around.

“Thank you for inviting me tonight.”

“Oh! We’re happy you could come.”

“I almost didn’t,” I admit. “I still feel bad that I was a jerk to you.”

“Buddy, no.” Becca laughs as she drapes my coat over a hook. “I don’t think you cornered the market on bad moments. And anyway, it’s all forgotten. Go eat some cheese puffs. The faceoff is in five minutes. Who’s the young stud?”

I glance at Duff, who’s smiling like he just won the Super Lotto. “My bodyguard. He’s a Brooklyn fan, so I brought him with me.”

“Excellent. Let’s get this party started.”

I tell Duff to make himself at home. And when I head over to the drinks table, Nate is there, handing me a glass. “What’s new? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Oh, you know. Running an empire keeps me off the streets.” There is a lovely cluelessness to Nate that makes this all easier. He probably doesn’t have any idea that I’ve been avoiding him out of embarrassment.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, grabbing a Diet Coke, his drink of choice.

“I feel great. But fat. And maternity clothes are a drag. All those shapeless waistlines. On the positive side, people always offer me a chair when I walk into a room.”

He cackles. Then he gestures toward the plush seats at the end of the room, open to the rink. “Take your pick. We’re going to win tonight.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s going to happen.”

“Then I’d better find a seat.” Smiling, I glance around the familiar room to see who else is here tonight. Georgia—the team publicist—is chatting with Hugh, the general manager. And seated down in front are several men in suits. I spot Stew, Nate’s right-hand man at Kattenberger Tech. He’s accompanied by their CFO. I should probably say hello.

One man is sitting alone, though. And just as I’m admiring his broad shoulders in his suit jacket, he turns his head.

Grey eyes are the first thing I see. And they’re set in the same rugged face that stars in my best dreams. Okay, all my recent dreams. I have no idea why Eric Bayer is right here in the box, instead of down on the ice. But I do probably know why he’s giving me a look that’s one part surprise, one part irritation, and one part hot.

“Wowzers!” Duff says. “There’s our guy right there!”

Oh dear. I’ve made another small miscalculation. Go figure.

I give Eric a startled smile, and then turn back to Nate before he realizes that his hockey player is giving me a hormone rush.

“Hey—I heard about the factory fire.” Nate says. “That’s frustrating. Can you get more components before Christmas?”

“I’m covered through the holidays. But after that, things get hairy. It’s going to cost me.” I hold Nate’s gaze, but I can feel Eric’s presence just a few yards away. I still feel the pull.

Over the public address system, the M.C. announces a ceremonial puck drop. “Here we go!” Nate says cheerfully. “Better grab a seat.”

He takes his soda and goes to sit down beside Becca. I fill two small plates with snacks, handing one of them to Duff. “This is for you. Grab a soda whenever you wish.”

“This is super fun Miss Alex. Best night on the job, ever.”

“Glad to hear it.” I take a ginger ale and then head toward the chairs. There’s a free one right beside Eric. “Is this seat taken?”

Slowly, he stands up. Then he puts both hands on my shoulders and kisses me on the cheek.

“Jeez!” Duff shouts, taking a seat behind us. “Plot twist.”

“Duff.” I give him a warning glare.

“Don’t you want to sit with your date?” Eric asks me, eyebrows raised.

“I’m the bodyguard!” Duff says with obvious glee. “I’m good right here where I can see all the action. But maybe you can tell us why you’re missing games? We’ve been wondering.”

“Have you now?” Eric eyes me with growing amusement. “Maybe if you ever called me back, you’d know.”

“Whoa!” yelps Duff.

Kill me already. I sit down primly beside Eric and crack open my soda. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

“Uh huh,” he says. “Busy running the world, I guess. You didn’t expect to see me here tonight, did you?”

“No, that’s just lucky.” I meet his gray eyes with mine, hoping he believes me.

Our gazes lock for a long moment. His is cool. And after a moment he turns back to the ice, where the game is about to begin. “What brings you to Brooklyn?”

“I needed to get out of the house.”

“Why?”

“I’m waiting for the lawyers to tell me how it went with Tatum.”