Free Any Man Of Mine by Rachel Gibson Page B

most intimidating guys on the ice. ”
    A second commentator laughed. “ If you see LeClaire coming, it’s best to get out of the way. With his team down by one, he’ll be looking to put the big hurt on someone .”
    Sam skated into a face-off circle to the left of his own goal. He put his stick on the ice and waited, his steely blues focused on the opponent across from him. The puck dropped, and he fought for domination, battling it out. He shot the puck up ice, but it was stopped by a Dallas player who had the audacity to skate along the boards toward the Chinooks’ goal. The “big hurt” Sam put on him lifted his skates a foot off the ice and rattled the Plexiglas. A Star slammed into Sam, who turned and threw a punch. Several players from both teams piled on, and Autumn couldn’t tell if they were hitting each other or holding each other back. Gloves and sticks hit the ice, and two referees finally blew their whistles and skated into the middle of the scrum. Sam pointed to the left and argued with the ref, but in the end, he straightened his white jersey, picked up his gloves and stick from the ice, and skated to the penalty box. His eyes narrowed, but a smile twisted one corner of his lips. He wasn’t at all sorry.
    Of course, Sam was rarely sorry about anything.
    She remembered the first time she’d looked up into those blue eyes. She’d been so incredibly naïve, and he’d been so impossibly handsome. She’d been alone in Vegas. All alone in Sin City. She’d been a small-town girl, and Vegas had been foreign and like nothing she had ever experienced. Maybe if she hadn’t been alone, she wouldn’t have been so vulnerable to Sam’s evil ways.
    Maybe if she hadn’t paid nonrefundable money for the seven-day, five-night vacation package to Caesars Palace, she would have taken one look at the debauchery in those beautiful eyes and run home. Maybe if her mother hadn’t warned her about the decadence in Vegas, she wouldn’t have been so intrigued to see it for herself.
    She’d spent the previous two years caring for her mom and taking care of her affairs after her death and she’d needed a break. A vacation from her life. She had a list of everything she wanted to do in Vegas, and she was determined to wring every last dime out of that vacation.
    That first day by herself she’d spent walking up and down the Strip, staring at all the people and collecting stripper/hooker cards. She’d window-shopped at Fendi, Versace, and Louis Vuitton. She’d found a pink bead bracelet at a sidewalk vendor and played a few slots in Harrah’s because she’d read somewhere that Toby Keith stayed at Harrah’s. But she’d only fed the slots until she lost twenty bucks. Even then, she’d been very tight with her money.
    She’d lounged by the pool, and that night she put on a white sundress she’d bought at a Wal-Mart in Helena and hit Pure. She’d heard about the nightclub inside Caesars. Read in People and Star magazines that celebrities hosted parties in the bar.
    At first, things inside Pure were slow. She sat within the stark white interior and rolling pastel lights, nursing a few drinks and wondering, “Is this it?” Is this what everyone raves about? But by eleven, the bar picked up, and by midnight she was dancing and having a good time. By 1:00 A.M., the dance floor was a crowded mash of warm bodies, and she was in the middle of it, moving her butt to Jack Johnson, letting go, being young, and having more fun than she’d had in years.
    Within the mix of hot bodies and warm tequila glow, she’d become instantly aware of a pair of big hands on her waist. For a second or two she hadn’t thought much of it. The floor was crowded, and people were bumping into each other. She took the touch for an accident, but when it became obvious to her booze-soaked brain that the touch wasn’t accidental, she threw an elbow into a solid wall of muscle and looked over her shoulder. Way up into baby blue eyes and a face