Face Off (The Baltimore Banners Book 10) Read online

  FACE OFF

  The Baltimore Banners Book 10

  Lisa B. Kamps

  FACE OFF

  Copyright © 2017 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

  The Baltimore Banners™ is a fictional professional ice hockey team, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of trademark.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.

  Photographer: CJC Photography

  http://www.cjc-photography.com

  Cover Model: BT Urruela

  http://www.bturruela.com

  http://www.vetsports.org

  Artwork and Cover Design by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art

  http://www.simplydefinedart.com/

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Other titles by this author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  PLAYING THE GAME preview

  ONCE BURNED preview

  About the Author

  Other titles by this author

  For Aunt Lillian…Just because

  Other titles by this author:

  THE BALTIMORE BANNERS

  Crossing the Line, Book 1

  Game Over, Book 2

  Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3

  Body Check, Book 4

  Break Away, Book 5

  Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  Delay of Game, Book 6

  Shoot Out, Book 7

  The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy

  Books 1-3 Boxed set

  The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy

  Books 4-6 Boxed set

  On Thin Ice, Book 8

  Coach’s Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  One-Timer, Book 9

  Face Off, Book 10

  THE YORK BOMBERS

  Playing The Game, Book 1

  Playing To Win, Book 2

  Playing For Keeps, Book 3

  Playing It Up, Book 4

  Coming Soon

  FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN

  Once Burned, Book 1

  Playing With Fire, Book 2

  Breaking Protocol, Book 3

  Into the Flames, Book 4

  Second Alarm, Book 5

  Coming Soon

  STAND-ALONE TITLES

  Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)

  Finding Dr. Right

  Time To Heal

  Dangerous Passion

  Be sure to sign up for Lisa’s monthly newsletter, Kamps’ Korner, for exciting news, sneak peeks, exclusive content, and fun, games, and giveaways! You don’t want to miss it!

  Can’t wait for the newsletter? Need to get your fix of hockey, firefighters, passion and news daily? Then please join Lisa and a great group of readers and fans at Kamps Korner on Facebook!

  Chapter One

  Mid-July

  St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands

  The sand chilled her toes, an odd sensory difference from the warm night air that hugged her skin and made the ends of her hair cling to her neck. Cindy Miller didn’t care—she needed to feel that difference, needed to feel something other than the strange detachment that had been her constant companion for the last two months. She didn’t understand it, didn’t want it…and didn’t know what to do about it.

  A small laugh escaped her, whisper-soft and full of deprecation—and maybe even a little desperation. She leaned forward, wrapped her arms around her knees, and dug her toes in deeper. Furrows appeared in the sand, deep grooves that grew wider with each swipe of her carefully manicured feet. She shouldn’t be sitting out here, shouldn’t be falling back into this odd mood, shouldn’t be feeling this odd detachment. Not here, not now.

  It had been a whirlwind few days, filled with sunshine and sand and laughter and love. So much love. But the wedding was over now, the bride and groom on their way to the luxurious catamaran that would take them on a private tour of the islands for the next week. A burst of happiness filled her. Maggie and Dillon were the perfect couple and she was so happy they had found each other. And happy that she had been included in their plans to start their new life together. Not that the start to their new life had been what she’d been expecting. When Maggie first told her they were getting married this summer, she’d expected a small gathering back home, maybe just Maggie’s family and a few close friends of the bride and groom. She’d only been right about half of it.

  The gathering was small, just like she’d figured it would be. Maggie wasn’t into big displays of anything and liked to keep things simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. So yes, the guest list had been small. The location, however, had come as a surprise. Instead of a small church or hall or something like that, the wedding had taken place on the white sandy beach of a private resort—on the island of St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands.

  Leave it to Dillon to surprise everyone with a romantic streak.

  Cindy sighed and gazed at the empty expanse of beach. The wedding arch was gone now but she could still see it in her mind’s eye: a simple bamboo frame draped in gauzy linen, decorated with fragrant blooms of tropical flowers. So simple yet so very beautiful and somehow elegant. Everything about the ceremony had been that way, from the simple gown Maggie had worn to the bare feet of everyone in the four-person wedding party. Maggie’s mother had been stunned—and not in a good way—but Maggie had put her foot down. Cindy laughed at the memory. Yeah, she had, quite literally. Right over there, in the soft sand, when she had firmly told her mother that this was her wedding—hers and Dillon’s—and they were doing what they wanted, not anyone else.

  Good for her, Cindy thought again. Cindy had been secretly pleased, especially since she was the maid-of-honor. The dress she wore was a pale salmon linen, its kerchief hemline long enough to sway around her bare calves. It was something Cindy would wear again, even back home. So yeah, good for Maggie because if it had been up to her mother, Cindy would have been wearing an awful floor-length satin concoction with lace and bows and sashes. Just the thought made her shiver in distaste.

  But now the ceremony and small reception were over, the bride and groom heading off into the sunset for a romantic honeymoon. Which meant it was time for Cindy to get back to real life.

  A life she had no idea what
to do with. Not anymore, not for the last few months. And wasn’t that just the absolute pits? She was the one who was usually so together, so organized and focused and driven. Except she wasn’t, not anymore.

  And she had no idea what had happened, or why.

  Or what she was going to do about it. Not really.

  The sound of glass clinking against glass, soft and almost musical, came from behind her. She stiffened, wondering who was coming out to intrude on her solitude, then turned. She relaxed and almost smiled when she saw Ethan Kincaid walking toward her with a wine bottle and two glasses in his hands, his gait strong and steady in the soft sand. Like her, he was still dressed in his wedding attire: creamy linen shorts and a loose, buttoned shirt.

  “Why are you sitting out here by yourself?”

  “I was watching the sunset.”

  His smoky gaze moved to the water, the clear blue dark now, cloaked in the shadows of night, then turned back to her and raised his dark brows. “Really? I think you’re about an hour late.”

  “Closer to two.”

  “Really? It’s been that long?” He glanced at his wrist, frowned when he realized he wasn’t wearing a watch, then stepped closer. “I must be on island time already. Scoot over.”

  Cindy slid over, making room for him on the edge of the large cabana lounge. Maybe ‘lounge’ was the wrong word; it was more like a bed, the foam cushion thick and comfortable, with huge pillows and even linen side curtains that could be pulled against the bright Caribbean sun during the day. There were several of the private lounges scattered at discreet distances along the beach but all of them were vacant now.

  The material of her dress caught under her butt and she stood up, smoothing the linen behind her. Ethan immediately took advantage of her absence and swung his legs up, stretching out and arranging the pillows behind his head, getting comfortable with a contented sigh. Cindy placed her hands on her hips and frowned at him. “You took my spot!”

  “You’re kidding, right? This thing is huge.” He slid over to make room for her then patted the cushion next to him. He turned his attention to the bottle in his hand, releasing the cork with a small pop. Champagne then, not wine. He filled both glasses, shoved the bottle into the sand, then held one glass out to her. Cindy rolled her eyes then crawled back onto the lounge, stretching out next to Ethan so they were side-by-side before taking the glass.

  Ethan took a sip then sighed, the sound oozing contentment. Cindy took a sip as well then stared out at the dark water without really seeing it. Silence settled around them for a few minutes, filled with nothing but the gentle lapping of waves against the beach. Ethan shifted and Cindy sensed more than saw him take another sip of the champagne. He nudged her arm and she turned, surprised to see him watching her with a crooked smile.

  “So why are you so quiet?”

  “Who, me?”

  “I don’t see anyone else sitting out here. Of course, you. Now fess up. Why are you so quiet?”

  Cindy shook her head and drank from the glass, hoping Ethan would take the hint and not ask again. Or change the subject. Or just sit there and enjoy the quiet night. But this was Ethan—too funny, too observant, too stubborn. Of course he wouldn’t let her ignore the question.

  He nudged her again, his arm accidentally brushing the curve of her breast. Tingles of awareness shot through her and danced across her damp flesh, causing warmth to pool low in her belly. Cindy stiffened, the sensation surprising her.

  The act of simply feeling surprising her.

  Did Ethan notice? No. He was still grinning at her, his face cloaked in shadows as he raised the glass to his mouth and took a long swallow. His tongue darted out, swiped across his lower lip.

  More heat filled her, a heat that had nothing to do with the heavy night air surrounding them. Ethan? No, she must be imagining things. Why would she suddenly be reacting to him this way? After months of feeling nothing but a strange emptiness and detachment, like she was nothing more than a distant observer?

  No. She had to be imagining things. This was Ethan. He was nothing more than a friend. A good friend, maybe even one of her best friends. Attractive, yes, with his dark tousled hair and crooked smile and those ridiculously long lashes that framed his smoky blue eyes. How many times had she teased him and called them girly-lashes? Too many. And he’d just laugh, that warm rumbling chuckle coming from deep in his wide chest.

  Except she didn’t think his lashes were girly now, not with the way he was looking at her. No, he wasn’t looking at her any differently, that was just her imagination. Again.

  Or maybe it was just too much champagne—except she hadn’t really had that much. She looked away and drained the glass, heard Ethan laugh again before he leaned to the side and grabbed the bottle. He refilled her glass and topped his off, then settled back against the pillows with another sigh.

  “So are you going to answer, or do I have to guess?”

  “Answer what?”

  He chuckled again. “Why you’re so quiet.”

  “I’m not. Or if I am, it’s just because I’m relaxing, taking this all in.”

  “Now, maybe. But you’ve been quiet the last few days, ever since we got here. What’s up?”

  How could he have noticed? He shouldn’t have, not when they’d been so busy preparing for today. Not even Maggie had noticed. Of course, Maggie was the bride, and she had plenty of other things on her mind—including trying to rein in her mother and keep her from taking over everything at the last minute.

  Cindy shook her head again and forced a smile she didn’t quite feel. “Nothing’s up. It’s just been a busy few days, that’s all.”

  “Hm.” Ethan watched her for a minute and she wondered if he’d push for an answer. But he finally turned his head and gazed out at the dark water, taking an absent sip of champagne. “So what have you been doing the last few months? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever.”

  “It hasn’t been that long. Barely two months.” Since the Banners had been eliminated from the playoffs and he’d gone back home. “And I haven’t really been doing anything. Helping Maggie mostly.”

  “You all set for classes to start back up? That’s the end of August, isn’t it?”

  “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

  “What do you mean, you guess? Don’t you know?”

  “I, uh—I’m not going back.” The words fell from her mouth in a rush. She quickly raised the glass to her lips, hoping he wouldn’t notice, hoping he wouldn’t say anything, hoping he wouldn’t ask her any questions.

  But this was Ethan, her friend, and he did notice. He leaned over and took the glass from her hand then turned his head toward her, his dark brows pulled low over those smoky blue eyes. His thigh pressed against hers, his bare skin warm against the flesh of her leg that had been exposed when her dress shifted up again. More tingles shot through her, like someone had placed the hot end of an electrical wire against her leg.

  “Wait. I did not just hear that. What do you mean, you’re not going back? Why the hell not?”

  “Just what I said.” She ignored the sensation of bare flesh pressed against bare flesh and reached for her glass. Ethan leaned against the back of the lounge and held it away from her, his gaze intent as he shook his head.

  “No. No way. Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  “Nothing is going on. I don’t want to talk about it.” She reached for the glass again. Ethan shifted again, raising both glasses high above his head. If Cindy wanted hers, she’d have to practically straddle him and scoot up his body to reach it.

  The idea sent a wave of heat and desire through her, so hard and sudden that the breath rushed from her and left her gasping in surprise.

  No, not surprise. Desire. Want. Hunger. Need.

  Feelings. Tangible, concrete feelings.

  What was wrong with her? Why, after months of confusing numbness and encroaching blackness, was she feeling this now? With Ethan? He was her friend, nothing more. She shouldn�
��t be feeling anything with him. But she was.

  Could he tell what she was thinking? Could he feel it, or was she the only one?

  He was still watching her, that crooked smile lighting his face and shining in his eyes. His large body was relaxed and at ease, sprawled across the thick padding of the oversized lounge. His linen shirt pulled up over his stomach, revealing a swath of hard flesh, muscular and tanned. Cindy blinked, tried to swallow against the sudden need flaring through her, and forced herself to look away. Cindy caught his gaze with hers, saw something flicker in the depths of his smoky eyes a brief second before she straddled him and reached for her glass.

  Only she didn’t make it that far.

  Chapter Two

  Holy shit.

  Ethan froze, almost afraid to move. One second, he had been teasing Cindy, playing keep-away with her glass of champagne. The next, she was straddling him, her firm legs on either side of his hips, her chest dangerously close to his face.

  Like, right in his face.

  He blinked, wondering if maybe he was imagining things. Maybe this was nothing but another dream. Lord knew, he’d had enough of them the last few months. But no, this wasn’t a dream. The soft flesh of her small rounded breasts was right there, less than an inch away, covered by nothing more than the gauzy linen of her dress. All he had to do was tilt his head a fraction of an inch and his mouth could—

  Ethan swallowed back a groan and tried to put distance between his mouth and those wonderful, soft breasts. There wasn’t much room for him to go anywhere, not when he was stretched out, not when his head was already against the back of the lounge bed—

  No, not bed. Christ, he couldn’t think of it as a bed. It was a lounge…something. Chair. Recliner. Whatever the fuck they wanted to call this oversized piece of beach furniture.