So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(15)

With that fiery gaze, she held his own.

Unerring.

Unflinching.

Until her mouth creased, and she broke into a laugh. He remembered that laugh. Just as before, it hit him right in the balls.

She used the edge of the iPad to poke him in the chest. “You thought I’d go to all this trouble to try to get into your hockey shorts, Petrov? I’m a team owner—I can have any of these Rebels boys with the snap of my fingers!” She chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “Despite what that supersized ego of yours thinks, the only performance I want from you is on the ice. Maybe if you spent less time carousing—”

“Carousing?”

“Yes, it’s nicer than calling you a club-hopping, vodka-sodden manwhore. Less of that and more effort on your day job, please. And don’t worry yourself that I’m interested in ‘renewing our acquaintance.’ I’ve had better lays with the Ukrainian delegation at the last Games.”

He had to say he enjoyed this sharp-tongued, quick-witted version of Isobel. But not enough to admit it to her.

“There is nothing you can teach me.”

“So sure, Russian.”

“I am positive.”

“We’ll see.” She skated back to the edge of the rink. “Again.”



Damn that fuckwomble Russian!

Isobel kicked at a wastebasket in her tiny office—more like a converted closet in the Rebels’ practice facility—and tried to take satisfaction in its contents spreading all over the floor. Kit Kat wrappers mostly. Her weakness. Better her weakness be a delicious chocolate snack than Vadim “Asshatski” Petrov.

Of course she’d encountered sexism in Montreal. But sexism in the minors was small potatoes compared to a major pro hockey team. Or maybe it was just Vadim’s clear lack of faith in her.

No different from anyone else’s.

Moretti was likely looking to offload her so she wouldn’t push for more. Harper had probably put him up to it. Just give her something—anything—so she’ll feel useful.

She kicked at the wastebasket again even though she couldn’t repeat the satisfying wrapper dump ’n’ spread. It hit the door of her closet-office with a resounding clank.

The door sprang open with Violet on the other side. She took in the scene before her. “Petrov?”

“How’d you guess?” Isobel had filled Violet in on her new assignment but left out the salient fact that they knew each other—intimately—from back in the day. “He’s not buying the shit I’m shoveling.”

Vi waved it off. “Forget Petrov. Let’s talk about your nonsex life. I’ve found this guy who I think is perfect for you.”

“That’s what you said about the guitar player. And the firefighter.” How could Isobel not find a firefighter hot? Likely because he wasn’t a sexy calendar-gracing one like those Dempsey guys who were briefly famous a couple of years ago. No, this firefighter looked like he spent more time on desk duty with his hand permanently lodged in a box of Krispy Kremes. “You also promised I’d feel sparks with the Board of Trade guy.” But nothing. No chemistry. Not like—

Forget it. There might have been chemistry, but chemistry didn’t guarantee shit.

“Starting today, I’m on a man embargo. I need to focus on work.” She pulled up Vadim’s gait analysis on her iPad. She needed to get through to him.

“Maybe you should take a page from the book of Harper. Do a player.”

“Yeah, because that’s the way to get the respect of my peers.”

Violet shrugged. “Women have been using their feminine wiles to persuade the dumber sex to their way of thinking for centuries. Maybe the Russian needs more carrot and less stick.”

“Been there and nyet.”

Oops.

Violet’s face dropped. “Been. There?” She waved to the rink as if that was where Vadim was right now. “There there?”

Isobel covered her face with her hands and peeked out through the cage of her fingers. “Not a word to Harper, ’kay?”

Violet made a lips zipped motion and waved for Isobel to continue.

“Years ago, he spent a few weeks training with the Rebels while he decided which team he should sign with. It was the summer before I went to college, and Dad had me train with them, too. He wanted to make sure I was tougher than beef jerky before I went to Harvard and—”

Her sister spiraled a finger of move it along.

“I—I might have had a crush on Vadim. Like a full-scale infatuation. You wouldn’t know it to look at me now, but I was a bit more forward in those days. More confident. Basically, I threw myself at him.”

Isobel had the world at her feet then. Hockey superstardom was beckoning, and she’d applied her blooming self-assurance to the all-important task of virginity divestiture.

Violet looked more sympathetic than surprised. “Nothing wrong with knowing what you want and going after it. And if anyone’s worth fluffing the boobage and hiking the skirt for, it’s a tasty piece like Petrov.”

“That’s what I thought. Of course I might have neglected to tell him I was virgo intacta. I was sort of desperate to get it out of the way before college and I wasn’t looking for hearts and flowers, just—”

“Boom, boom, I’m a big girl now?”