She took another chip. In the quiet, her crunching sounded rudely loud. “Sorry,” she murmured.

  Gavin glanced at her briefly. “For what?”

  “Noisy potato chip.”

  After a moment, he snorted. “Have you forgotten I’m a part-time coach of a bunch of rowdy twenty-year-olds? Nothing less than a stadium full of screaming fans qualifies as noisy. Imagine the decibel level inside that van right now.”

  Beth glanced in the side view mirror at the white Ford van that trailed behind them. What were all the young studs doing? Her memories of road trips on the way to camp didn’t help much. Were they rocking out to Spice Girls, playing cards, writing poetry in their journals? Rocking out, sure. Whenever the van got close, they heard the beat of the bass line.

  A brief vision flashed before her. Naked hockey players, pumping their hips to the beat of the Rolling Stones. And her, right in the middle of them, nude and gyrating.

  What was wrong with her? Shaking off the image, she thrust her hand into the potato chip bag. Warm flesh surprised her—Gavin’s hand. She snatched hers away.

  “Sorry.”

  “Beth, you have to stop that. You’ve apologized twice in the last five minutes. And you haven’t done anything worth an apology.”

  Sorry, she wanted to say, stopping herself just in time. “My mother always said apologies were the oil of polite conversation. They keep things running smoothly.”

  That silenced Gavin. Any mention of her mother tended to do that. Her mother had always been good at silencing other people, especially her daughter. Apparently death hadn’t diminished her powers.

  “I booked us into the same lodge where the players are staying. Hope that’s okay,” Gavin said.

  “Well, sure, why wouldn’t it be?” She could think of one reason. The distracting presence of young male bodies.

  “They’re a rambunctious crew, those Renegades. I can make them go to sleep early the night before the game, but after the game all bets are off. We might have to go have our own party that night.” He slanted her a teasing look.

  “I vote for that. Maybe a nice dinner somewhere, just the two of us.”

  “You, me, a bottle of red wine. It’s a date.”

  She pictured it, the two of them at a quiet corner table, sharing a bottle of red wine. After the wine, they’d go back to their room and launch into their usual routine. She’d change into her nightgown, he’d undress. By the time she got into bed, he’d already be there, naked. She’d turn out the light. They’d caress each other and she’d let him pull off her nightgown. He’d lick her nipples, which felt lovely. She’d stroke his arousal in the way she knew he liked. He’d finger her until she turned liquid and shivery. He always made sure she orgasmed. Never once had she faked it, as she had with her one previous boyfriend. He’d mount her and thrust until he came. Then she’d put her nightgown back on.

  Her mother had never permitted her to sleep naked, and the first time she’d gone to bed with Gavin, she’d been shocked.

  “How else are we supposed to make love?” he’d asked quizzically.

  “Well, during sex, that’s different. But shouldn’t you put your clothes on afterwards?”

  “I like sleeping naked. I like walking around naked. Ever been in a men’s locker room?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Everyone’s naked there. I’m used to it. It feels good. You should try it sometime.”

  “My mother would kill me.”

  He’d rolled her over and pinned her arms over her head. “Let’s keep your mother out of our bedroom, if you don’t mind.” His black eyes had bored into her with near-physical force.

  At this show of command, her mouth had gone dry. She’d nodded quickly. Then, shocked at how easily she’d given in to him, pushed him away. He’d rolled off her and said nothing for a few moments.

  “Sorry,” he’d whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She didn’t explain that his words hadn’t upset her. Her own response had. A wild urge to do something—submit, surrender, splay herself open, turn herself inside out—had surged within her. Curled up at the edge of the bed, she’d beaten it back until her heartbeat had returned to normal and the crazed heat in her body had subsided.

  That shameful part of her, the part her mother despised, had nearly betrayed her.

  To this day, Gavin stubbornly slept naked but Beth always wore one of her high-necked, filmy nightgowns from Laura Ashley.

  Did they have a good sex life? Some people, she’d read, never had an orgasm. So she should count herself lucky and ignore that little voice inside her that longed for something more. Something deeper.

  “Or we could do something different.”

  Gavin’s statement startled her—as if he’d read her thoughts. “What do you mean?”

  “Our own after-game celebration. We ought to do something new, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, I guess. I’m not sure what there is to do in Wild.”

  She could have sworn Gavin muffled a laugh, but when she looked at him, his expression was all bland innocence.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing. I swear.”

  Beth eyed his rugged profile. Strong jaw, twice-broken nose, eyes as deep and dark as a cave at midnight. He steered the car with two fingers, with that casual, completely physical confidence he brought to everything he did. The other hand rested on his thigh. He wore the rusty-brown, nubby wool sweater she’d gotten him for Christmas. He carried his good looks as if they were a coat he didn’t care about anymore. She’d never known anyone so solid in their own skin. So different from her, quiet, absentminded Beth who avoided thinking about her own body whenever possible.

  He glanced at the rearview mirror. “They’re flashing their lights. That either means full bladders or empty bellies. Or both. I think there’s a diner a few miles up the road.”

  “Good. I fall into the full bladder category.”

  “Bathroom break, coming up.”

  The Bird’s Eye Diner was perched next to a frozen lake with a view of steep snowy crevasses. The bored waitress barely noticed Beth walk in, but she perked up at the sight of a dozen muscular guys bursting out of the van. Beth didn’t blame her. The Renegades were a sight to behold.

  Beth took her time in the bathroom. The thought of facing her husband’s entire hockey team always made her shy. What did they think of her? Did they see her as the uptight “boss’s wife”? Did they ever notice her in a sexual way? She was only a few years older than they were, late twenties to their early twenties.

  Older women were supposed to be sexy, right? She fluffed her hair with her fingers. Fine and silky, it refused to do anything but drape itself over her shoulders. Since those shoulders were covered with a green fleece zip-up jacket, the chances of looking sexy didn’t seem high. But at least the jacket gave her eyes a brighter shade of green. And it hugged her bosom in a way she liked.

  Her mother would have disapproved.

  Rebellion made her unzip the jacket to reveal the top of her cream-colored shirt. Why must her mother still dictate to her? There was nothing wrong with playing the part of the coach’s attractive wife. Nothing at all.

  As she left the bathroom, she added an extra sway to her stride. Three of the players were waiting their turn for the men’s room. She kept her head high and offered them a bright smile. They all jumped to attention with big grins. “Feel free to use the ladies’ room, guys. I won’t tell.”

  “You rock, Mrs. Coach,” said the cute brown-haired one.

  “Her name’s not Mrs. Coach,” hissed his buddy.

  “I know that.”

  “It’s Beth, right?” The third player looked at her boldly, in a way that made her wonder if she’d unzipped her fleece a little too far.

  “That’s right. Beth Thomason.”

  “Do you mind if we call you Mrs. Coach?” The cute one smiled winningly at her. “We’ve kind of got into the habit.”

  “Fine.” Beth kept her smile fixed on her face as she made her way to the table where Gavin waited. The players had a nickname for her? They had a habit of referring to her in a certain way? Her mind reeled at the thought of her being discussed…where…in the locker room? When they were all naked?

  Gavin sensed something different about Beth when she slid into the chair opposite him. For one thing, the sweet upper curve of her breasts peeked above her top. He could have sworn that jacket was zipped to the top when they’d been in the car. He always knew every detail of her physical appearance. They often provided his only clues to her state of mind.

  “Feel better?” He had to raise his voice over the low roar of male chatter.

  “Much. Did you order us anything?”

  Yes, something was definitely different. She looked…jazzed. Alert instead of half asleep.

  “The waitress has been a little busy,” he answered. “A bunch of hungry guys who haven’t set eyes on a woman in hours.”

  “What do you call me?” She gave a mock pout.

  Her flirtatious tone surprised him. “I call you a gorgeous woman who’s been trapped inside the car with me. Where you belong,” he added, roughening his voice.

  Her eyes darkened. Then she looked away. “Is there a menu?”

  Changing the subject. Good sign. With every bone in his body—including the one rising between his legs—he knew this trip was just what they needed.

  The waitress reached their table. “Whew! Thought I’d never make it to you guys.”

  “I apologize for my players.” Gavin winked at her. “When it comes to food, they’re insatiable. Women bringing them food? Forget about it.”

  The waitress, who wore a pink fuzzy sweater and had her hair pinned up in a feathery twist, giggled. “I know all about hockey players. My brother plays left forward for the Anchorage Aces.”

  An actual NHL-associated team. A different world, as far as the Renegades were concerned. “Good team. Where’d he learn to play?”

  “We’re from Wild. Sometimes he still plays for the Nasties, when he’s home visiting.”

  “Hey, that’s who we’re playing this weekend,” Beth interjected.

  The girl turned big, purple-shadowed eyes on her. Her eyelashes glittered with some kind of powder. “You guys are heading to Wild?”

  “Yes.” Gavin winced. He wanted to be the one to explain Wild Nights, not a random waitress. An immediate change of subject was required. “Do your burgers come with fries?”

  “Yeah, it says right there. Choice of fries or coleslaw. Any of the guys going to the bachelor auction?”

  Beth’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “The Wild Bachelor Auction. It gets pretty crazy. These guys would love it.”

  “We’re going to play a hockey game, that’s it. I’ll have the mushroom burger with fries and a hot coffee. The blacker the better. Beth?”

  Beth seemed to be fixated on the waitress. “I’ve never been to a bachelor auction. What’s it like?”

  The waitress shrugged. “I don’t know what normal ones are like. I’ve only been to Wild’s.”

  “What do you mean, normal ones?”

  Gavin made one last-ditch effort. “Beth, what would you like to eat? The poor girl has a lot of orders to deliver.”

  “Greek salad’s fine. And one of those giant chocolate chip cookies. I’m still curious though. What’s different about Wild’s bachelor party?”

  The girl gave her a look drenched in wonder at her cluelessness. “It’s during Wild Nights. So, like, everything’s different. I’d better get these orders back to the kitchen. Did you want anything to drink, ma’am?”

  “Coffee for me too. Cream and sugar.”

  “Coming up.”

  Gavin felt Beth’s confused gaze on him as he closed the menu and inserted it back into the wire holder.

  “What the jeepers is she talking about?”

  Damn it. When Beth went so far as to use the word “jeepers”, which was the closest thing to a swear word her mother had allowed, she meant business.

  “I don’t know anything about a bachelor auction.” That much was true.

  “What’s this Wild Nights thing?”

  “Wild Nights?” Darren, the goalie, stood next to their table, hands in his back jeans pockets. “You haven’t heard of it?”

  “She doesn’t need you to explain it.” Gavin shot him a harsh stare, but Darren just grinned. Damn goalie was too full of himself.

  “Who better? I’ve been there five times. Maybe six, but they blend together, know what I mean?”

  “We don’t care to know what you mean.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Beth’s new, unzipped mood also seemed to make her feistier. “I want to know all about Wild Nights.”

  “It’s pretty simple, really.” Darren placed his hands on the table and leaned toward Beth. Gavin could have socked him. “During Wild Nights, there’s only one rule. It’s not written down or anything. But everyone knows it. Can you guess what it is?”

  “Go away, Darren.”

  Darren ignored him. If he weren’t the best goalie Gavin had ever had, he’d be on the injured list by now. “The rule is, ‘Anything goes, nothing counts’.’’ He repeated it a second time, with relish. “Get it?”

  Beth’s lovely green eyes flitted from Darren to Gavin, then down to the tabletop. Gavin watched a tinge of red make its way up to her cheeks in a slow burn.

  “That sounds very inappropriate,” she whispered.

  “That’s the right word, Mrs. Coach.” Darren straightened up. “But it’s ‘anything goes’, so you can just sit in your room and watch TV if that’s what rocks your socks. Me, I’m planning to party.”

  Beth turned a little redder.

  “Only after the game,” Gavin said sternly. “If I don’t bench you.”

  “Of course, Coach. You know me. I’m all about the dedication.” With one last wink, he returned to his table.

  After a long, tense moment in which Gavin wondered if his wife was about to walk out the door and hail the next ride north, she raised her eyes to his.

  “Wild Nights?”

  He didn’t answer, letting his steady, intent gaze fill in the blanks. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. But I want. I want all sorts of things. Leave everything to me. Everything.

  Chapter Three

  Gavin felt Beth lagging behind as they approached the Wild Times Roadhouse. At least she was still with him rather than demanding to be put on the nearest bus home. The Roadhouse had been built in the late 1800s as a lodge for trappers and fishermen. It was constructed of weathered, rough-hewn logs hauled out of the forest one by one. The Wild Times Roadhouse made no apologies for what it was—a place to raise hell and sleep it off afterward.

  The owner, a barrel-chested older man, hurried toward them through the living room, which was occupied by threadbare couches and an old piano. “You the team from Fairbanks?”

  “The Renegades, yep.” Gavin smiled at the ragged whoops from his team. Not even a seven-hour drive through mountain passes could take away their hometown spirit. Sometimes he wanted to remind them they weren’t even an official team, just a collection of fools for hockey, but he didn’t have the heart. “I’m the coach, Gavin Thomason. We in the right place?”

  “Yessiree, no doubt about it. You got the whole place to yourselves, matter of fact. Except in the evenings, when the living room here sometimes turns into a hangout.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  “It’s my honor. When word got out the other team canceled—and I’m never saying their name again on these premises—I told the mayor if he could find us a new team, I’d put ’em all up for free. Can’t have Wild Nights without a hockey game.”

  “You’re a champ.”

  The owner bared his teeth in a grin—revealing that half of them were a distant memory and the other half various shades of yellow. “Was, back in my time. Played for Montreal.”

  “No shit.”

  “Them were the days. Now here’s what I got for you. I figure most of the guys can bunk up in the dorm rooms. I set aside the best room for you and your lady here. It’s the only room with its own bathroom. Figured you might appreciate the private nature of the situation.” He slid a sidelong glance toward Beth, as if the presence of a woman unnerved him. Gavin had seen this syndrome before in men who’d been in rural Alaska for a long time. They weren’t used to the sight of a pretty woman, especially one as refined as Beth.

  He took her hand and drew her closer. “This is my wife, Beth.”

  The man dropped his eyes shyly and made a move that looked comically like a curtsy. “Glad to have you, miss. I mean, missus. You need anything, you let me know.”

  “I will, thank you very much,” said Beth softly. Gavin felt a stab of proprietary pride. His wife was such a lovely woman. That she’d wanted to marry a hulking beast like him blew him away. But she had, and he was grateful.

  He just hoped he wasn’t about to fuck it all up.

  The owner showed them to their room, opening the door in a sweeping gesture. “The Madame Louisey Suite, we call it. Named after a…prominent local citizen,” he finished with embarrassment.

  “Oh, was she French?” Beth looked around the room with an expression of delight that made Gavin harden. He loved it when she showed enthusiasm for something—anything.

  “She was when someone wanted her to be,” muttered the owner. “I’ll go see to the boyos now, if you don’t mind. Make sure they don’t kill each other over who gets the top bunk. Don’t know why, but everyone always wants to be on top.” Turning as blood-red as a side of beef, he backed out of the room.

  Beth didn’t notice the double entendre. “This room is adorable. Look at that wallpaper. What are those, lilies?” She peered closer. Gavin dropped their bags on the floor next to the bed and dragged her away just in time. He didn’t want to scare her off already. The lilies were held by buxom naked ladies.

  He stuck his head into the bathroom. “Check this out. That claw-foot bathtub is classic.”

  The old-fashioned bathroom evoked a time when water had to be heated on a stove and brought to the bathroom in a ewer and basin, both of which sat on a mahogany cabinet next to a pile of clean, if ratty, towels.