“I can’t believe you agreed to do this. It doesn’t seem like it’s something you’d be remotely interested in doing.”
He caught the edge of anger in her voice. “How would you even know what interests me? Maybe I like fashion.”
She let out a snort. “I highly doubt that. You seem more like the bar-brawling, beer-swilling, sweatshirt–with-a-logo-on–it-wearing, sports-watching type to me.”
“Hmmm. I have been guilty of all those things. But I also like to dress well. See, you don’t know me at all, Lina.”
She looked away. “Stop calling me that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not my name.”
He moved closer, breathing in the subtle scent of her perfume. “Because it reminds you of that night.”
She stepped away. “No, it doesn’t.” She lifted her head and gave him a look that showed her pain. “You’re trying to piss me off.”
Now it was him who took a step back. “No. I’m really not. I just want to be friends.”
She laughed. “We can’t be friends, Drew.”
Maybe she hated him because of what he’d done. He’d always managed to stay friends with the women he slept with. He was nice to them and never lied to them. He never made promises he didn’t intend to keep. Hell, he never made promises. He’d never promised Carolina anything that night, either. But maybe she’d heard something he hadn’t said. Or maybe he’d said something that night he couldn’t recall saying.
“This isn’t a good idea.” She closed up the boxes of food.
He stopped her, laying his hand over hers and forcing her to turn and look at him. “What’s not a good idea?”
“This. You and me.”
“Working together?”
“Anything . . . together.”
“Come on, Li—Carolina. You need this for your work, right?”
She shrugged. “I can get models.”
“Oh, but you need me. I’m a hot commodity.”
She shot a look at him. “Modest as always, aren’t you, Drew?”
“Well, you know me.”
“Yes, I do know you.”
He figured if he could joke with her, tease her like he’d always done, she’d snap out of this sad, reflective mood. Mad Carolina he could deal with. The sad one he couldn’t handle.
“Come on. It’ll be just like old times. Only you get to tell me what to do. You can even be mean to me. It’ll be like payback. Think of all the fun you’ll have ordering me around.”
She straightened and cocked a brow. “Why do you want to help me? Surely you have better things to do with your time. Like playing a hockey game, or picking up some woman.”
“Not really. Annoying you has always been one of my favorite things to do.”
“Yes. I remember that well.”
“Think of it as a nostalgia trip, then. And besides, I come cheap. I won’t even charge you for my time, seeing how I’ll get all that free publicity.”
“How generous of you.”
“I know, right?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Fine. We’ll do this.”
“Great.”
“And can you get me tickets to see some of your games?”
Now it was his turn to give her the once-over. “I didn’t know you liked hockey.”
“Now who doesn’t know much about whom? I actually do like hockey, Drew. Plus I want to study your lines while you skate.”
“Huh. Okay, sure. There’s a preseason game tomorrow night against Denver. Do you want to come to that one?”
“Tomorrow night? Let me check my calendar.” She went over to her desk and grabbed her phone, doing some scrolling with her thumb. “What time is the game?”
“Seven thirty.”
“Yes. That’ll work. I should be finished up by then.”
“Okay. I’ll have a ticket set aside for you. Are you going to bring someone?”
She looked up from her phone. “No. It’ll just be me.”
“You can pick up the ticket at the box office. Just give them your name.”
“Thanks. This will really help with my designs.”
“Anytime.”
She looked around. He hated to admit he found her discomfort amusing, but he did. If she was uncomfortable, then it meant she felt something. And he wanted her to feel something.
For him. About him.
“So . . . you’d like me to leave.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I didn’t say that, but I do have work.”
He stepped over to her, deliberately getting close. “You should just say what’s on your mind, Carolina.”
She didn’t say anything, but her eyes said it all. Confusion, that slight irritation that always made him smile, and then her eyes darkened, a flash of desire she tried to hide before she moved away.
But he’d seen it, and it made him tighten.
He took a deep breath. “Hey, I can take a hint.” He grabbed his jacket and put it on.
“Thanks for coming over,” she said as she walked him to the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night at the game.”
“Sure.” She held on to the door and gave him a stiff smile. “Good night, Drew.”
“Night, Carolina.” Before she could shut the door in his face, he brushed a brief, soft kiss across her lips, taking in her slight gasp of surprise. “Don’t work too hard.”
He turned and walked away and she shut the door.
He smiled as he pushed the elevator button.
Yeah, he got to her. Surprisingly, she got to him, too. He’d always enjoyed teasing her. After all, she was Gray’s little sister. Until she’d become more than that in one night that had rocked his world.
She’d thought he’d walked away as if she hadn’t meant anything.
But she’d meant a lot more to him than she would ever know. And that had scared the shit out of him. That one night with her had brought out feelings he hadn’t been ready to deal with. Not when he’d had a new career ahead of him and his entire life had been about to change. He couldn’t have handled falling in love all those years ago.
Now? Now was a different story. Now he was settled, with a good career and a stability in his life he hadn’t had before.
Except Carolina wouldn’t give him the time of day.
He aimed to change that.
THREE
CAROLINA TOOK A CAB TO MADISON SQUARE GARDEN, went to the box office to pick up her ticket, and made her way to her seat, surprised when she realized it was in the middle and down low.
Great seats. She’d have an amazing view of all the action and the players. She took out her sketchbook and readied for the game.
When the players came out, which happened to be right near where she was seated, she shifted in her seat to watch them take the ice.
It was just as she’d imagined, only so much better seeing it in person. Despite being loaded down with heavy uniforms and protective gear, they glided across the ice, as breathtaking in form as a figure skater who wore the lightest of costumes. Carolina settled in and watched the players warm up, the grace and fluidity of motion they used to slide the puck back and forth as graceful to her as any skater she’d ever seen.
When the game started and the referee dropped the puck between the two opposing players, she leaned forward, her gaze already trained on Drew, one of the forwards. He and his teammates struck fast, grabbing the puck and driving ahead toward Denver’s goal.
Drew was lightning fast. Carolina no more than blinked and he had skated down the ice toward the goal and taken a shot. It missed, but his teammate had scooped it up behind the goalie and shot it toward another one of the Travelers players.
The interplay fascinated her. She’d watched a lot of games on television, but there was nothing like being at a game. The action was fast paced, and she found herself leaning forward, her pencil clutched tightly in her hand. By the time Denver had snatched the puck and moved to the other side of the ice, she realized she hadn’t sketched anything because she’d been too absorbed in the game.
Time to change that. She focused on Drew, the way his body moved when he skated. Of course she wouldn’t be able to get a decent sketch of his body, but she drew the lines to give her an impression of movement.
“Hey, whatcha doin’?”
She looked up at the man sitting next to her. He was maybe in his late forties, wearing a Travelers jersey and clutching a beer in his hand.
“Sketching.”
“You a reporter?”
She smiled at him. “No.”
“So why you drawin’ pictures?”
She really didn’t want to get into why she was doing this. “I just like to draw. It . . . brings the game alive for me.”
“Oh. I get it. Better than takin’ a picture with your camera, huh?”
“Yes. Something like that.”
He slapped her on the back. Hard. “Good for you, honey.”
She winced and went back to watching the game, flipping the page so she could sketch some action shots with more than one player, wanting to get the speed of the skates, the teamwork involved, and the way the puck seemed to disappear when they all crowded around it.
Men at work. This was Drew’s job, and as she zeroed in on him, she highlighted his face, glad now that he’d gotten her these seats so close-up. She depicted the fierceness of his features as he concentrated on fighting for the puck. And when he was slammed against the boards right in front of her, she saw the ends of his hair peeking out from his helmet. His hair was wet from sweat despite how cold it was in the Garden. Not surprising, considering there wasn’t a moment he was on the ice that he wasn’t moving.
Movement. Men were constantly in motion, which meant they needed style and comfort. While she wanted the men’s clothes in her line to look amazing, she also knew men placed a high premium on freedom and ease in their wardrobe. Carolina jotted down some notes, her mind whirling with the possibilities of what she could create. She could write faster than she could draw, but she already had five or six ideas she wanted to sketch later, including underwear.
She grinned, wondering if Drew would model those for her, then forced that thought aside. Fitting him for underwear might be more than she could handle.
But wouldn’t he look magnificent in a print ad? She could already envision it in her mind, the angle of his body, the way they’d set up the shoot.
It was perfect. Now she’d have to drum up the courage to ask him to do it.
• • •
DREW’S ENTIRE BODY KNOTTED UP WITH TENSION AS Boyd Litman shot the puck at him. He raced forward and fought one of Denver’s defenders for it, wrestling it away and skating toward the opposing goal.
Tied one to one in the third, the last thing they needed was a tie. This had been a tough game already and he knew everyone was beat-up and exhausted. There were two minutes left in regulation. Time to end this thing.
He passed the puck to Ray Sayers and skated past the defender, getting himself into position by the goal, fighting with the defender to stay where he needed to be while Sayers and Litman fought to keep the puck away from Denver’s defender.
When the puck came toward him, he jostled with Marquette on Denver’s team, one of their toughest defenders. He took a shot and missed.
Dammit. A quick glance at the clock showed they were down to the final minute. With renewed determination, he fought for possession and gained it back, and made a tricky shot toward Litman who was right at the goal.
Litman slid it past the Denver goalie and it went in.
Drew had never seen anything sweeter than when the goal lit up. He raised his stick in the air and skated toward his teammates while the fans in the Garden went wild.
That had been a great victory, hard-won because Denver was a tough team to beat.