the wheel, and I was comfortably slumped in the passenger seat.
Did I prefer to be the one driving? Actually, no. This way I had the perfect excuse to watch Emma as long as I wanted. It was a better view than the Pacific coast outside my window. By far.
Her pert nose wrinkled when she concentrated, which was cute as hell.
“Let’s see. Saint, who you know as Arasmus, is a supremely private person. I don’t think he’d be doing this if not for Delilah.” Emma glanced my way, her eyes sapphire in the sunlight. “She was with us during filming last season and got close to the crew.”
“And you too?” I tried to imagine being fine with watching my woman film love scenes with someone. And struggled. Not that Emma was my woman. And obviously it was all acting. Didn’t change the fact that the man I was about to meet had had his hands on Emma’s breasts. Had kissed her multiple times.
Maybe something of that showed, because she gave me one of those “You’re fooling no one, but you amuse me” looks. “It actually helped, getting to know me. She could witness firsthand that there’s absolutely no real spark between Saint and me.”
“Never thought there was.”
“Uh-huh. Neither did Delilah. Not really. But it can be hard trying to erase those final film images from your mind. Especially when they’re meant to look hot.” Emma’s eyes lit with wry humor. “When you see the reality, how awkward it is, all the crew hovering about, it helps.”
“Does it bother you? Doing those scenes?”
“The nudity? Yes and no. I felt safe and respected on the set. They keep it closed, with only a few key people on hand. But it was never a fully comfortable experience. And there’s a certain creep factor with some fans that I don’t enjoy.”
My hackles raised so fast it was a miracle I didn’t snarl. The thought of her being harassed made me want to tear things with my bare hands. “You haven’t been . . . hurt or—”
“No,” she assured gently, like she had to soothe me, when I should be the one comforting her. “Nothing like that. Nothing past the occasional leer and the foolish decision early on to read social media comments.” She let out a short laugh. “Lesson learned there. For good.”
I hated that she had seen ugliness. But I nodded in perfect understanding and sympathy. “Never read the comments, Em.”
She gave me a sideways look. “I bet you had worse.”
“I don’t know about worse. But I accepted that criticism was part of the life.” I shrugged. “Hockey fans are pretty great. Listening to chucklehead sport commentators who thought they knew what went through my head when I played was more aggravating, to be honest.”
“I bet.” Emma turned off the highway and onto a smaller road that led to the sea. “At any rate, when I consider future roles, unless there’s a really good character-development reason for it, I won’t do nude scenes again.”
My grunt earned a smile, which was what I intended. Emma pulled up to a residential gate, and we were buzzed into the property. Perhaps in deference to the wedding party, a valet met us in the drive. But Macon Saint opened the front door, his expression breaking into a fond smile upon seeing Emma.
“You made it.” He gave her a bear hug, the kind I reserved for Tina, and then let her go to eye me in clear reservation.
The guy was about an inch taller than me and built like Brommy—bulky but all muscle. I could take him, though. I was quick, had a punch like a hammer and . . . well, hell, he was Emma’s friend. Not an opponent on the ice. Didn’t stop me from returning his stare with a deadpan expression.
But strangely, his reserve dropped, and he smiled. “Luc Osmond?”
“That’s me.”
“Holy shit, man.” He offered his hand. “Huge fan.”
I used to get off on things like this. Fandom. Knowing someone supported me and my team. Now I felt like an imposter. But I shook his hand back. “Likewise.”
“Man, that game against Toronto—”
“Where’s your lovely bride, Saint?” Emma cut in brightly, giving a good impression of someone who really didn’t want to hear a couple of guys talk sports but was pretending to be clueless about it. I knew, however, she was trying to protect me.
It was a strange sensation, having someone read me so well. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or if I was