“We’re almost there,” Howie told her as they headed down a hallway cluttered with men in suits or dressed in Chinooks team colors. They hurried past a closed door marked “Dressing Room” and took another right through a set of double doors.

And there John sat, chatting with a television reporter in front of a big blue Chinooks banner. Hair damp and skin shining, he looked like a man who’d played hard, but he didn’t look hurt. He’d removed his jersey and shoulder pads and wore a blue T-shirt that was wet and stuck to his big chest. He still had on his hockey shorts, ribbed socks, and big protective pads on his legs, but his skates were gone. Even without all his gear, he looked huge.

“Tkachuk put a good hit on you in the last five minutes of the game. How are you feeling?” the reporter asked, then shoved a microphone in John’s face.

“I’m feeling pretty good. I’m going to have a bruise, but that’s hockey.”

“Any plans to retaliate in the future?”

“Not at all, Jim. I had my head down, and around a guy like Tkachuk, you have to be on your game at all times.” He wiped his face with a short towel, then glanced about the room. He spotted Georgeanne standing in the doorway and smiled.

“The game was tied tonight. Are you satisfied with that?”

John turned his attention back to the man interviewing him. “Of course, we’re never satisfied with anything less than a win. We obviously need to take better advantage of power plays. And we also need to get some momentum going in our offense.”

“At thirty-five, you’re still ranked among the top players. How do you do it?”

He grinned and chuckled softly. “Oh, probably years of clean living.”

The reporter and cameraman laughed also. “What does the future hold for John Kowalsky?”

He looked in Georgeanne’s direction and pointed. “That depends on that woman right over there.”

Everything within Georgeanne froze, and she slowly turned to look behind her. The hall was filled with men.

“Georgeanne, honey, I’m talking to you. ”

She spun back around and pointed to herself.

“Remember last night when I told you that I would only get married when I’m crazy in love?”

She nodded.

“Well, you know I’m crazy in love with you.” He stood in his stockinged feet and held his hand out toward her. In a daze she walked toward him and put her hand in his. “I warned you that I wouldn’t play fair.” He grasped her shoulders and forced her to sit in the chair he’d just vacated. Then he glanced at the cameraman. “Are we still on?”

“Yep.”

Georgeanne looked up and her vision started to blur. She reached for him, and he grabbed her hand.

“Don’t touch me, honey. I’m a little sweaty.” Then he went down on one knee and looked her in the eye. “When we met seven years ago, I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. But I’m a different man now, and part of the reason I’m different is because of you. You came back into my life and made it better. When you walk into a room, I feel warm like you’ve brought the sun with you.” He paused and squeezed her hand. A bead of sweat slid down his temple and his voice shook a little when he spoke. “I’m not a poet or a romantic, and I don’t know the words to accurately express what I feel for you. I only know that you are the breath in my lungs, the beat of my heart, the ache in my soul, and without you, I am empty.” He pressed his hot mouth into her open palm and closed his eyes. When he looked at her again, his gaze was very blue and very intense. He reached inside the waistband of his hockey shorts and pulled out an emerald-cut blue diamond of at least four carats. “Marry me, Georgie.”

“Oh my Lord!” She could hardly see and wiped her eyes with her free fingers. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She sucked air into her lungs and looked from the ring back into John’s face. “Is this real?”

“Of course,” he answered, slightly offended. “Did you think I’d get you one of those fake diamonds?”

“I’m not talking about the ring.” She shook her head and wiped at the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Do you really want to marry me?”

“Yes. I want us to grow old together and have five more children. I’ll make you happy, Georgeanne. I promise.”

She gazed at his handsome face and her heart pounded. He wasn’t taking any chances. He had a television camera, a big diamond, and a crushing grip on her hand. Last night she’d wondered if he’d choose her. She’d wondered what she’d do if he did. Now she knew the answer to both questions. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Jesus,” he sighed, relief flooding his features. “You had me worried.”

Out in the stands, thunderous applause rolled through the arena, chased by a maelstrom of several thousand cheering fans. The walls of the arena shook with their enthusiastic response.

John looked over his shoulder to the cameraman. “Are we patched into the Jumbotron?”

The man gave a thumbs-up sign, and John turned his attention back to Georgeanne. He took her left hand and kissed her knuckles. “I love you,” he said, and slid the ring on her finger.

Georgeanne wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened herself against him. “I love you, John,” she sobbed into his ear.

He stood with her clinging to his neck and glanced at the men in the room. “That’s it,” he told them, and the camera was shut off. Georgeanne clung to him as they were congratulated, and she didn’t let go even after the last man filed out of the room.

“I’m getting you all sweaty,” John said, smiling down at her.

“I don’t care. I love you, and I love your sweat, too.” She rose onto her toes and pressed against him.

He gathered her close. “Good, because you’re responsible for a lot of it. There were a few seconds there when I thought you might say no.”

“When did you plan all of this?”

“I bought the ring in St. Louis four days ago, and I talked to the television guys this morning.”

“Were you so sure I’d say yes?”

He shrugged. “I told you I wasn’t going to play fair.”

She leaned back and kissed him. She’d waited a long time for this moment, and she poured her heart into it. Their mouths met, open and wet. She slanted her head to one side and licked the tip of his tongue. Her hands slid along his shoulders, up his neck, and into his damp hair.

Lust tugged at John’s groin, and he pulled away from Georgeanne’s sweet kiss. “Stop,” he groaned, and bending his knees, he shoved a hand inside his shorts and adjusted himself. His hard plastic cup pinched his testicles like a nutcracker, and he sucked in his breath to keep from swearing in front of Georgeanne. “My jock is getting real snug.”

“Take it off.”

“It’s about four layers down, and there’s something I have to do before I start peeling to my skin.” He straightened and read disappointment in her tilty green eyes.

“What could be more important than peeling down to your skin?”

“Nothing.” She wanted him, and the fact that she did filled him with macho, chest-pounding pleasure. He loved her in a way he’d never loved anyone else. He loved her as a friend, as a woman he respected, and as a lover he wanted every minute of every day. And she loved him. He didn’t know why she loved him. He was an ornery hockey player who swore too much, but he wasn’t about to question his good fortune.

Now he wanted nothing more than to take her home and strip her naked, but he had one last piece of unfinished business first. He took her hand and pulled her with him out of the room and down the hallway. “I just need to clear something up before I can leave.”

Her steps slowed. “Virgil?”

“Yep.” Worry puckered the skin between her brows, and he stopped and put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you afraid of him?”

She shook her head. “He’s going to make you choose, isn’t he? He’s going to tell you to choose me or your team.”

A trainer walked past him on the way to the dressing room, and John moved closer to Georgeanne to allow the man by.

“Congratulations, Wall,” he said.

John nodded. “Thanks.”

Georgeanne tangled her fingers in the front of his T-shirt. “I don’t want you to choose.”

He returned his attention to Georgeanne and kissed the worry from her brow. “There was never a choice. I never would have chosen a hockey team over you.”

“Then Virgil will fire you, won’t he?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Virgil can’t fire me, honey. He can trade me to a team below five hundred if he wants to, or worse, I could find myself wearing a duck on my sweater. But only if I don’t beat him to it.”

“Huh?”

He squeezed her hand. “Come on. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go home.” Last week he’d given his agent the green light to contact Pat Quinn, the general manager of the Vancouver Canucks. Vancouver was a two-hour drive from Seattle and needed a first-line center. John needed to control his future.

With Georgeanne by his side, he walked into Virgil’s office. “I thought I’d find you here,” he said.

Virgil looked up from the fax on his desk. “You’ve been busy. I see your agent has contacted Quinn. Have you seen the offer?”

“Yep.” John closed the door behind him and wrapped his arm around Georgeanne’s waist. “Three players and two draft picks.”

“You’re thirty-five. I’m surprised he offered so much.”

John didn’t think he was surprised at all. It was the usual trade for a team’s captain or any franchise players. “I’m the best,” he stated.

“I wished you’d talked to me first.”

“Why? The last time we talked, you told me to choose Georgeanne or my team. But you know what? I didn’t even have to think about it.”

Virgil looked at Georgeanne and then returned his gaze to John. “That was quite a show you just put on a few minutes ago.”