Chapter Forty-Two

During the ride down in the elevator, Darcy could think of nothing else but Natalie’s proposed friends-with-benefits scenario. It sounded good. Too good. If there was nothing behind it, like there was nothing behind their flirting for the cameras, no one could end up hurt, right? She couldn’t hurt Natalie again, she couldn’t be that same massive disappointment she’d been in college. She couldn’t disappoint Natalie the way she had disappointed her last girlfriend by choosing work over her.

Once they got in the car, Darcy glanced at Natalie, who was scrolling through her phone. Darcy let her eyes sweep over Natalie’s legs, noting the way the muscles of her thighs pressed against the fabric. Her brain flashed a picture of Natalie’s bare legs, an image that had been there for more than a decade. She’d had a whole year to sneak glances at Natalie in the locker room and it allowed her to imagine exactly what Natalie looked like under that suit.

She closed her eyes. If Natalie saw her, she’d assume Darcy was feeling gross in the car, not trying to tamp down her overwhelming desire to find out what was under Natalie’s suit. Natalie’s collarbones were on full display, her tank top modest enough not to show too much cleavage but with a deep enough V that Darcy could have looked down if she craned her neck a little higher.

Cut it out, you perv.

Darcy swallowed. Yes, Natalie suggested that they could hook up, but that wasn’t an invitation to leer at her in the back of the car that was taking them to a work function.

The driver didn’t seem to be paying attention to them, but she didn’t want to risk it, so she took out her phone.

How would this work?

Darcy sent the text and waited for it to pop up on Natalie’s phone. When it did, Natalie swiped her thumb across it and then looked over at Darcy, her mouth twisted in a confused smile.

How would what work? Us having a little fun?

Darcy nodded at Natalie when she read the reply. Natalie went back to typing.

I think we can handle no-strings. Unless you’re afraid you’re going to fall in love with me.

Darcy looked at Natalie, who waggled her eyebrows. Darcy suppressed a laugh.

The car pulled up to the curb outside the venue. The driver looked at them in the rearview. “I’ll be parked at the arena. You can text me when you want to leave.” He handed them a card with his number on it.

Darcy took it and thanked the driver. She slid out onto the sidewalk and held the door open for Natalie to slide out after her. She held out her hand and Natalie took it with a smile.

“I’m not exactly a damsel in distress,” Natalie said, wryly.

Darcy gave her hand a squeeze before dropping it. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand,” she said before striding toward the entrance.

They held out their credentials and the guards pointed them in the direction of the studio’s VIP box. All the flirting in the car had distracted Darcy from her nerves. But once they reached the area outside the box, they came flooding back. Inside, they would meet a bunch of people who could make or break her career and she’d spent the last hour thinking about how much she wanted to get Natalie out of her clothes.

Get it together, LaCroix.

Her internal pep talk did nothing to calm her nerves. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open, holding it for Natalie. Natalie stepped toward her. All sense of her earlier playfulness was gone. Instead, she looked gray.

“Are you okay?” Darcy asked, laying her hand on Natalie’s arm.

Natalie nodded. “I’ll be fine.” She walked into the room, her eyes on the people milling around holding cocktails and small plates of food.

Darcy noted that Natalie’s gaze flicked to the ice below but quickly flitted back to the people. Darcy’s own nerves disappeared once she realized what a hard time Natalie was having being here. She tugged on the elbow of Natalie’s jacket, gently pulling her toward the bar. Once there, she ordered a glass of wine for herself and then looked at Natalie.

“I’ll have the same,” Natalie managed to say.

Darcy took the glasses from the bartender and handed one to Natalie. “Since when do you drink white wine? Didn’t you say that’s a drink for bored housewives?”

The laugh that came out of Natalie’s mouth surprised them both. “How on earth did you remember me saying that?”

Darcy shrugged. “I remember pretty much everything you ever said to me.” She looked at the floor, wishing she could forget the harsh things.

Natalie watched her over the rim of her glass. She gulped a generous sip. “You ready to mingle?”

Darcy led them toward a group of well-dressed men and women standing toward the front of the box. None of them were paying attention to the teams warming up below. Natalie glanced down, her eyes tracking the familiar choreography of her former team’s warm-ups.

Raquel stepped out of the group to welcome Natalie and Darcy. “I’d like to introduce you all to Darcy LaCroix and Natalie Carpenter, our newest hosts for the Olympics on Wake Up, USA .”

Darcy and Natalie took turns shaking hands with everyone in the group. Darcy smiled. “Nice to meet all of you. How are you enjoying your time here?”

One of the women, a middle-aged woman in an expensive suit, grinned. “I got here yesterday but I love it already.” She gestured to the panel of glass overlooking the ice. “I can’t wait to watch the game.” She looked slightly sheepish. “Is it deeply uncool to admit I am a giant fan of both of you?”

Natalie looked at Darcy. “Nope. Nothing uncool about liking women’s hockey!”

“I was a big fan of your father’s. Wonderful player.” The man smiled. “You should get him to come on your show,” he said to Darcy before making sure Raquel heard him. “Having an actual Hall of Famer would be a real ratings coup.” The man took a sip of scotch, looking very pleased with his suggestion.

Darcy clenched her jaw. She would not fire back at this man. She was here to play nice, make the network happy, not get into a fight with some rich old guy. But the suggestion, no matter how absurd, stung. She’d gotten this job on her own merit and the network liked it, not because she was Marty LaCroix’s daughter but because they liked her. She was good at this. No matter what this asshole said, she didn’t need her dad to help her do her job.