They lost.

I shook my head in disbelief one more time. I was still sitting on the locker room bench, mentally replaying the game, when Sandy came out of the shower.

“What’s wrong Liz?” she asked. “We played pretty well despite the loss.” She was surprisingly upbeat for the losing goalie. Of course she had stopped 38 shots. Too bad there had been 40.

“You played well! Your offense sucked. Only 14 shots? C’mon!”

Sandy smiled at my reply. “Maybe I should get out of the goal and show them how to skate,” she mused as she started getting dressed and packing her gear.

She probably could too. Sandy had always been a jock—it probably came from following her dad, a local sportscaster, around on his job for so long. We’d met playing little league soccer. She’d found her passion—ice hockey—a few years later. Now she was the top goalie in our league and the only woman goalie. She played well enough that most people forgot she was female.

Including the janitorial staff unfortunately. After the games, she always had the women’s locker room to herself. At the beginning of the season, a male janitor had ‘forgotten’ she was in the building and came in while she was in the shower. He hadn’t been too hasty in beating a retreat when she started yelling at him and so she’d asked me to start coming to the games and standing guard while she cleaned up afterwards.

I hadn’t minded. The games were a lot of fun to watch. I sat with a bunch of the other players’ friends and we got boisterous, cheered loudly, and generally had a good time.

That’s where I met Steve. His roommate was a winger on the second line and he was a diehard hockey fan. For the Red Wings. A phrase that here in Colorado was followed by the word “Suck!” Hell, any given parking lot had at least one “Red Wings Suck!” bumper sticker on a car somewhere in it. How he survived sports bars during the playoffs was a testimony to the general good nature of Colorado Avalanche fans.

Unfortunately, he was also damn cute. He had a devilish carefree charm that seemed cocky at first blush, but on second blush had something deeper behind it. Somehow he seemed to notice everything around him and know exactly the level of playfulness he could get away with.

He’d noticed me first, no doubt. I’d noticed him when my beer had suddenly been refreshed during a post-game party that Sandy had taken me too. I knew it had been close to empty and reached for it to take a final swig, and then nearly spilled the surprisingly full glass. When I looked up, his deep blue eyes were laughing, though his lips betrayed only the smallest of smiles. We started talking and I found out about his hockey obsession and the fact that he rooted for the wrong team. I teased him and tried to flirt, but he seemed oblivious. Eventually we drifted other directions in the party and talked to other people. Thereafter, we’d see each other at Sandy’s games and kid each other a little about our favorite pro teams. Eventually we started sitting next to each other but somehow the conversation never got much beyond the game at hand or the latest NHL news. By the end of the season, I still didn’t know much about him other than he was definitely single and worked long hours as an engineer.

The trouble started in the playoffs. Sandy’s team had made it, which thrilled everyone. At the pro level, so did the Avs and the Red Wings. For a while it looked like they might meet in the semi-finals.

He teased me about that. “You ready for your Avs to get beat by my Red Wings again?”

“No way. The Avs would pull it together to beat the Wings. They looked good against Dallas and the Wings never should have lost to Nashville.”

“Want to bet?” he asked.

“Sure! When the Avs beat the Wings, you buy me dinner!” I figured that was a no lose bet. I’d be able to find out if he was interested in me as more than a buddy or not.

“Hmmm. Okay. I’ll take you out to dinner. But when the Wings beat the Avs, you owe me an hour after dinner. Anything I want.”

There was a confidence and a power in the way he looked at me while he said that, which made me have no doubt that he had some definite ideas of what he wanted. That sent a shiver down my spine. My knees held up though.

“Within reason,” I said.

He smiled and nodded his head. “Agreed.”

But then Calgary pulled off the upset of Vancouver and the Avs were headed to the Shark Tank in San Jose.

“So what do we do now?” I asked, while we cheered Sandy’s team on through the first round of league playoffs.

Steve got that devilish look in his eye. “Let’s change the bet to the number of games each team wins or loses. For each game the Avs lose against the Sharks, you owe me two minutes of anything I want.”

Again, the calmness in his eyes quickened my pulse.

“And when the Red Wings lose?” I asked.

“What do you want?” He was inscrutable.

“I want to know more about you,” I said. “You owe me a story about your life every time the Red Wings lose.”

He smiled, but stopped just short of laughing. “Agreed.”

The first game between the Sharks and the Avs fell on the night of one of Sandy’s games. I brought a walkman radio and tried to discreetly listen while we cheered Sandy’s rather spectacular play. Unfortunately, both games were losers and I appreciated how Steve didn’t rub it in as the Sharks pretty handily slapped the Avs around, 5-2. After Sandy’s game, he walked me to the locker room door.

“Two minutes,” he murmured, then reached out and took my hands and squeezed them. He then released me and without a word turned and left. I rubbed the back of my hands where he’d touched me. Then I headed inside to see how Sandy was doing.

That’s when it hit me. I owed him two minutes. Of anything he wanted.

I was still mulling that over when Sandy indicated she was ready to go. We’d have to see what happened at the next game.

I stared at the snow. Why did this year’s late spring storm have to hit on a weekend? Sandy and I had planned a hike in the foothills today that was obviously cancelled.

The phone rang. Speak of the devil.

“Hey Liz! Looks like no hike!” Sandy said as I picked up the receiver.

“Yeah, I’m not into snowshoeing,” I replied.

“So look, Pete and Steve have invited us over to watch the Avs game at their place. You interested?”

I let out a deep breath. Was I interested? Oh yes. But I was also nervous. Would Steve be collecting his two minutes from the last game? Or was he going to save them up until the playoffs were over?

“Sure!” I told Sandy. We discussed logistics and were on our way.

Steve met us at the door. After taking our coats, he clasped my hands.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, looking into my eyes.

I felt shivers again.

“I had to,” I teased. “The Wings choked on Thursday. You owe me a story. Though maybe I should’ve asked for two minutes of my own.”

He chuckled. “I was surprised you didn’t,” he admitted.

“Well, I want to get to know you. We’ve been hanging out all season and all we’ve talked about is hockey. I don’t even know your last name.”

“Bowman.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. But no relation to the former coach,” he said, smiling.

I smiled back.

“You guys going to stand in the hallway all afternoon?” Pete called from the other room.

Steve just grinned and I became acutely aware that he was still holding my hands. I started to flush but Steve just changed his grip so that he was only holding my right hand and then led me into the living room.

Sandy grinned when she noticed us holding hands and quickly shifted to the remaining open chair. That left the couch as the only remaining seats. Steve let go of my hand as we settled in and Pete turned up the TV.

Butterflies seemed to have taken over inside and I was acutely aware of his thigh touching mine. My mind was whirling. Steve had been completely uninterested in me a few months ago and now… now I didn’t know what to think. The way he looked at me in the hall was like the rest of the world had faded away and he only had eyes for me.

Warm blue eyes. Confident gorgeous eyes. Oh gawd, I was starting to get sappy. I didn’t dare glance sideways to see if he’d noticed. I was sure he had.

Fortunately, I was saved by the game. The puck dropped and we were off.

The first period went well. The Avs got a goal and Abby was playing great. Unfortunately, great and incredible weren’t the same. The Sharks snuck one by him in the middle of the second period and then a second after Forsberg’s goal wasn’t allowed because he’d collided with the goalie. Two periods down and my team was losing again. I felt sick to my stomach.

Worse, the intermission report showed that Detroit was easily handling Calgary in their game two. Steve owed me one story. It looked like I wasn’t going to get another one today.

Sandy and Pete were pretty quiet too. We’d given up groaning before the commercial breaks and Sandy had stopped her running critique of the game. Pete hit mute and headed into the kitchen, muttering something about more guacamole. Sandy winked at me and followed.

I looked at Steve. He was smug, and obviously biting his tongue. I glared and he shifted into puppy dog eyes for a moment and then into that incredibly cute grin of his. I just had to smile back. I put my hand on his thigh and cocked my head.

“So, I want my story,” I teased.

Steve smiled. “What do you want to hear about?”

“Your last relationship, including how it started, how long it lasted and when it ended.”

Daring, I knew, and maybe not the best way to get to know Steve. Maybe it would scare him off, being asked so soon. But I don’t believe in being coy and it was close to what I really wanted to know.

He looked uncomfortable for a moment. Not upset or in pain, which was a good sign. I could see him carefully choosing his words.

“It lasted for four months. We met in a club I used to go to. It ended the same day the Wings clinched a playoff berth.”

Yes! After the party where we’d first met. That explained things! I waited for Steve to continue, but he remained silent.

“That’s not a story,” I prompted.

“You sure you want to hear this?”

“I’m sure,” For some reason, I suddenly felt like I really needed to know.

He sighed and composed himself. Then he reached over and took my hand. He looked me in the eye and began.

“I used to go to the club all the time. She showed up one night with one of the other regulars. I watched them together for a while and it was clear that while she was interested in being there, she wasn’t all that interested in him. There was no chemistry between them. Eventually, he was off talking to his friends while she went to get a drink. I was getting one then too. We started talking and exchanged email addresses. Within a week she’d ditched the guy and I brought her to the club a few weeks after that.”

He paused. I could see the memories crossing through, but again, he seemed neither pained nor sad.

“We started seeing each other more regularly. She had a lot of exuberance and passion, but I started noticing some little things. Little yellow flags like inconsistencies in stories she’d told me about her childhood. Excuses for being late that didn’t hold up. I realized she was lying about a bunch of little things.

“I eventually called her on it. She said they were little white lies and really didn’t matter. I disagreed. She didn’t see what the big deal was. I explained how honesty had to be the core of our relationship. She didn’t understand my point. So I ended it.”

He was still holding my hand. I could also see him searching my eyes for clues to my reaction.

I smiled and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “There’s a lot you’re leaving out.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Maybe if the Red Wings lose again,” he replied.

I stuck my lip out in a mock pout and he just chuckled. Then he put his arm around me and gave me a friendly hug before the start of the third period distracted his gaze.

The hug didn’t end. Steve kept his arm around me. Oh gawd he felt solid, holding me. Warm and strong. I tried to watch the TV, but all my attention was focused on his touch.

He still had his arm around me when Pete and Sandy returned. They just smiled and didn’t say anything. Konowalchuk made a shot that hit the post and we screamed at the near-miss and were back into watching the game.

Which ended badly. The Avs lost again, 4-1. They’d had a bunch of bad breaks, but San Jose had played well. Sandy stalked off to the kitchen in disgust, Pete right behind her. I turned to Steve. He just kept silent.

“Thanks for not rubbing it in.” I said.

He shrugged. “Why rub it in? You owe me another two minute penalty.”

“Yeah…,” I said. “I’m getting a little nervous about that.”

“Nothing to worry about. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

“You sure?”

“I promise.” His voice was firm and his eyes twinkled.

“So,” he continued, “Do you want to pay up now, or save it until the end of the series?”

I caught my breath.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m kind of nervous. Which would be better?”

“If you’re nervous, how about paying two minutes now and the rest later? You can get a taste and decide if you still want to continue the bet.”

I blushed. I certainly wanted more than a taste! But Steve had this… presence. It was reassuring and frightening at the same time. I suspected he could give me a bigger “taste” than I could handle.

I nodded. Steve stood up and took my hand and led me into his bedroom. It was clean and Spartan—other than his computer and several bookcases, it was pretty bare. He shut the door behind us and turned to me.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

I did.

“Two minutes can be a long time,” he said.

I snorted, remembering some power plays that would never end.

“It’s now 3:55 pm. When it’s 3:56, I’ll begin.”

I waited.

“Now. Please keep your eyes closed.”

Steve placed his hands on my shoulders, then slowly ran them down my arms, to the tips of my fingers. I could sense him walking around behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders again and slowly ran them down to my fingers. This time, he pulled my arms behind me until my palms touched.

“Clasp your hands, please.” His voice was still very gentle while firm.

I quickly complied.

I sensed him moving in front of me. I started to crack my eyelids and he paused.

“Please keep your eyes closed.”

I squinched them shut.

Steve stepped in close. I could feel his breath on my cheek. His hand came up and rested on my shoulder again. This time he slowly slid it up, to the nape of my neck, and then onto my cheek. He paused, just holding me, lightly caressing my skin. Then he swept his hand back until he caught my hair and pushed it out behind my ear. There he paused, his thumb making small circles just underneath my earlobe.

Oh God, this felt good! My breath was getting shallow, though I was still nervous about what might come next. I could also feel my body begin to respond to his touch.

Steve leaned in, and his breath warmed my ear. I could almost feel him, though only his hand still touched me.

Then he kissed me behind the ear. My knees nearly buckled as he nuzzled my flesh. I started to bring my hands up to hold him, but he caught my arms and pushed them back behind me.

I acquiesced.

Steve pulled back and then audibly stepped away. Come back! I nearly cried, but kept silent. He trailed his fingers down my arm again.

Then he slowly began to walk around me. When he was behind me, he again stepped in close, this time pressing his entire body into mine. I leaned back and twisted my head, eyes still closed, questing for him. He slid one arm around my waist, holding me tight. The other brushed my hair back again, exposing my neck.

He kissed my neck again, this time deeply and repeatedly. I gasped and began to tremble as he rained kisses from shoulder to ear and back. He held me firmly and pulled away whenever I tried to twist so I could kiss him in return. Finally I moaned.

He stopped kissing me and held me for a moment longer. Then he slowly eased his grip and stepped back. This time I did whimper. He started running his hands lightly over my arms and back. He caressed my neck and ran his fingers through my hair. He dropped lower and I felt his fingers touch my heel. He then trailed his hand up the back of one leg, before repeating it with the other.

Steve proceeded to slowly touch and caress every part of my body except my breasts, ass, or between my thighs. When he’d finished playing his fingers over my body from behind, he slowly slid around to the side, and then the front. He seemed to be memorizing my body with his touch.

Amazingly, he knew exactly how to touch me. When he found tenseness, he massaged me a little more deeply. Where my skin was bare, his touch was feather light—yet not enough to tickle. Who was this guy and where had he learned to do this?

Steve finished by running his hands up my stomach, around my breasts (touch them dammit!), and to my face. He gently took my face in his hands and then paused. I could almost feel his admiring gaze, though I resisted opening my eyes. His breath drew closer and hotter. I pursed my lips in anticipation.

He kissed me.

The hell with it! I threw my arms around him and returned the kiss. His lips parted and our tongues met. We continued kissing for another moment and then he pulled back. I opened my eyes and gazed into his smiling face.

“Your two minutes are up,” he smirked.

“Arrgghhh! Don’t you dare stop now, buster!”

“I do dare,” he impishly replied.

I damn near hit him right then, but decided that there would probably be better ways to get even. I just shook my head at him.

Steve completely disengaged from our clench and opened the door. Sandy and Pete were both holding back laughter at the sight of us when we returned to the living room. I just gave Sandy a loopy grin in reply.

“We need to go, Liz,” she said.

That was a preview of Two Minute Penalties. To read the rest purchase the book.

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