"And the hotel bookings?—"
"Same." I put my drink down and look squarely at Cara."Yes, of course, I've had other women, Cara. You know all about my reputation. My nicknames are known by everyone in this town and across the country. No secrets there. And yes, I had an affair with Melody Carter."
"A long-term, serious affair from what I have been hearing all day."
"The moment I met you and we agreed to this crazy fake partner weekend, my whole life, my whole world has been turned upside down. I know I have met the person I want to devote my life to. That is you, Cara. There is no one else. There will never be anyone else. My past is exactly that—past. Kaput! Playboy no more, for fuck's sake."
I drink and look directly into her eyes. Truth be known, my eyes were blinking harder than I've ever known before. They seem to moisten with each blink, but I put that down to the smoky atmosphere. After all, I may not be the hockeyplayboyanymore, but I'm still a fucking beast of a hockey player, and nothing is going to strip that reputation away from me. And, damn, I have never felt how I feel for Cara with any other woman—any other person—in my life. The thought that this feeling might slip away has tied my stomach into a tighter knot than before any major game.
A tear spouts from one of Cara's eyes and trickles down her cheek. I lean forward and kiss the tear, then rub it away with my thumb. I whisper, "Are you still hungry?" and she nods."Let's go eat."
I walk her to the host stand. I give my name to the hostess, who checks the books. I tell her that I made a special booking for Jake and ah, Melody. I bite my tongue and look down at Cara, andwink. Only joking with you. You look so beautiful tonight, Cara. She smiles, elbows me as hard as she can, then leans up to kiss my cheek, undoubtedly leaving a red mark. I don’t wipe it off, happy to be marked as hers. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she says with a wink.
When we don’t go into the main dining room, Cara shoots me a questioning look. I just flash her a knowing smile, take her hand, and walk with her to the private dining room I booked for us.
While I genuinely don’t mind taking photos with fans and enjoy interacting with them, tonight I just want privacy with my girl. I want an uninterrupted, fancy dinner and then to take her back to my place and show her how much I’ve been craving her all damn week.
The private room is small and intimate, with soft lighting and a circular table set for two, a black tablecloth, and a bottle of sweet rosé wine on ice in the center.
“Oh, Jake,” Cara says softly, squeezing my hand as she leans into me. “Who knew the famous BlueHawks Playboy would be so damn sweet?”
I laugh, leaning down to kiss her gently before leading her to the table and pulling out her chair for her to sit. “Only for you, princess,” I say honestly, taking my own seat as the waiter pours our wine.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be a rosé guy,” Cara comments as she takes a sip, humming with pleasure at the flavor.
“I’m not, but I took a bet that you would be,” I say, taking a drink from my glass. It’s sweet and light and honestly, not that bad.
Cara’s gaze softens. “Damnit, Jake, are you trying to make me fall in love with you or something?”
Yes.“Haven’t you already?” I ask with a grin.
Cara blushes but doesn’t answer, and before I can analyze that, we’re presented with menus. I’ve been here a few times before, and I know that everything is good, so I don’t pay much attention to the options, instead studying my girl as she reads through everything.
I order one of each thing she mentions liking the sound of, despite her insisting she can justchoose like a normal person. But why would I make her, when I’d rather spoil the shit out of her instead?
When our orders are taken, and we’re alone again, I lift the bag of gifts I got her off the floor. First, I give her the bouquet of lilies and daisies I bought her, having figured out that roses are not her style. Her eyes light up as she takes the flowers, inhaling the sweet scent.
“They’re beautiful, Jake, thank you,” she says, holding them like they’re the best gift she’s ever been given.
“There’s something else, too,” I tell her, handing her the bag.
“What? Why?” she says, taking it with suspicion.
I laugh. “I don’t need a reason to spoil you,” I tell her honestly. “Just open it, would you? I promise you’ll like it.”
She shoots me a narrow-eyed look before she pulls out the box and opens it. She gasps loudly, her hand flies to her mouth as she looks between the shoes and me.
“Jake, you didn’t…” she whispers, pulling out a shoe and gazing at it like it’s a precious jewel.
The shoes are a combination of black lace fabric, lethally tall heel, and bright red bottoms. She’ll lookamazingin them, and I’d pay the steep price ten times over just to see the awe in her face right now.
“How did you know?” she asks, gaping at me.
“I saw you gazing adoringly at them online in your lunch break once,” I tell her with a shrug. “And you should have whatever you want, so I got them for you. Do you like them?”
“Like them?” she repeats. “Jake, these are like my dream shoes. I fucking love them!”
I grin, and she hops up from her chair, setting the shoes down gently, before running to me. I catch her as she throws herself on top of me, kissing me deeply. I almost say fuck it, abandon dinner, and take her home right then and there. But then I remember that I’m trying to woo her properly and treat her the way she deserves, to show her that she really does mean everything to me, and I manage to find the strength to pull away.
