Rookie Rules. Red-Hot Trouble: Hockey Sports Romance (Standalone Reads) (Hot Ice Book 8)

by Lily Harlem

  “You really should try and relax more.”

  “I relax plenty. This evening I was planning a long bubble bath and losing myself in a good book.”

  “Wow, you live the high life, sweetpea.”

  “I had a late night, if you remember.” I frowned. Being reminded that I didn’t have much on my social calendar stung. And there was even less on it with Ben and Lisa out of the country. “You know my brother quite well then?”

  “Yeah, he’s been around for as long as I have on their team. He’s a mate as well as our medic. We started as newbies together.”

  “He loves his job.”

  “So do I.”

  “I can tell.”

  “What did you think of the game last night?” He folded his arms, his knuckles pressing on his biceps, and sat back

  “Loud, fast, violent.”

  “True, it’s all of those things. The Vipers are a great team to play for, not least because Rick Lewis is such an awesome captain.”

  I nodded. “Strong leadership is essential in any team.”

  “I’d like to be captain one day, but he’s got a few years left in him yet. I’ll make a bid for it then, though I’ll have to fight Phoenix for the top spot.”

  “What happens to hockey players when they quit being pro?”

  He shrugged. “Coaching, commentating, kicking back and enjoying the break.”

  “And you? What will you do?”

  “That’s a few years away, but most likely coaching, kids, you know.”

  “Yes, you’re good with kids.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you.”

  “Why me?”

  He tipped his head and studied me. “Because I respect you, Sophie, and what you do for people.”

  I glanced away. It was the first time he’d said my name with his deep voice, and I liked the way it had rolled softly from his mouth. “They’ve gone over the top in here with the decorations.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a Christmas overdose, even for Christmas.”

  “Where are you from originally?”

  “Toronto. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to a hot Christmas. It’s weird.”

  “Are you going home for the holidays?”

  “No, this is home, and I’ve got practice right up to Christmas Eve, and then again before New Year. I’m stuck here, though to be honest, my bachelor pad is not exactly uncomfortable.”

  The conversation turned to his home in Canada and his family. I discovered he was the youngest of three boys; the other two were married with children and lived in the same suburb they’d all grown up in. I told him about being a twin, something everyone was interested in, and about my medical training in New York.

  Eventually I spotted the time. “I need to go.”

  He held up his arms and grinned. “I’m going to count this as a victory.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’ve had two Diet Cokes and stayed an hour longer than I’d bet myself you would.”

  “I had a nice time.” In spite of myself, I’d enjoyed his company, his intelligence, and his interest in me. I’d also enjoyed listening to him talk, studying his mouth as he’d spoken, and catching the odd whiff of his aftershave.

  “You did?” He seemed a little surprised. “Have a nice time, that is.”

  “Sure. It’s…festive to be out this close to Christmas.”

  “Perhaps that means I’ll persuade you out again.”

  He was rubbing his forearm, just above the strap of an expensive-looking silver watch. For a moment I watched the dark hairs springing back into place from where he’d disturbed them, then, “Maybe, if there’s time.”

  “Oh, there’ll be time, don’t worry about that.” He stood and held out his hand to help me down from the small step our corner bench was set on.

  A small fizz of delight traveled up my arm as our flesh touched.

  For a moment he paused, as if he’d felt it, too, then he smiled, released me, and led the way from the bar.

  I followed him, watching him walk with his head slightly bowed and his shades on as if hoping not to be recognized.

  Night had crept over Orlando, and as I made my way to my car, Nathan stuck with me. “I’ll be okay to walk alone,” I said.

  “That would be very un-gentlemanly of me.” He paused. “I’d really like to take you home but—”

  “But I can drive, and my car is here.”

  “Yeah that and…”

  I came to a halt at my silver Lexus and turned to him. “And what?”

  He smiled and slipped his arms around my waist, tugging me close.

  The gesture took me by surprise, not just because of how intimate it felt, but also how comfortable it was to be close to him—there was no doubt about it, Nathan Walker was strong and fit, and it was no hardship to feel his body against mine.

  “And,” he said, “if I was taking you home, perhaps I’d get lucky and you’d invite me in for a nightcap.”

  “I don’t think so. I have a date with the tub and my book, remember.”

  “Of course, your usual wild Saturday night, eh.”

  “I can do wild.”

  “I just bet you can,” he whispered and dipped his head lower. “And I’d really like to see it sometime.” His lips brushed mine.

  I stilled, hardly even breathing as I looked up at him. My heart rate had increased, and a delicious tingle ran up my back.

  He must have taken my silence as compliance because he did it again, his lips soft against mine. I opened up, and his tongue dipped into my mouth. He moaned slightly as he found mine.

  There was something deliciously powerful about having such a big guy hungry for my kisses and touch. So I gripped his polo and returned the kiss with enthusiasm. I couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop myself. Trouble he might be, but Nathan ‘The Flash’ Walker tasted divine and kissed with the same talent as he played a puck.

  He ran his hands from my waist, upward. I wondered if he’d touch my breasts, but he didn’t, just skimmed his fingertips over the outer curve then rested them on my collarbones. But only for a second because then he slid up the column of my throat and cupped my face.

  “Sophie,” he murmured, the tip of his nose touching mine. “I want you.”

  God, I wanted him, too. Heat had pooled between my legs, and the rest of the world had faded away.

  “Come back to my place.” He tightened his hold, and something about the action screamed possession and dominance.

  I wasn’t complaining. It felt damn good.

  Temptation gnawed at me. My body screamed to agree to go with him, get naked, and find some relief from the ache, the need, growing in me. But my head had other ideas. “No.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I’m not going to come back to your place and jump into bed with you on a first date.”

  “So when’s the damn second date? Let’s go do it now. Dinner?”

  I smiled and tugged his polo. “No, another time perhaps. After Christmas.”

  “You really think I’m waiting that long to see you again?” He set his lips over mine and delivered another breath-stealing kiss that had my head spinning.

  What was I doing? Making out with a famous hockey player in the lot? Any one of my colleagues might see.

  I pulled back and swiped my tongue over my damp lips.

  He smiled. “So can I have your number?”

  “So you don’t have to feign illness again to get my attention?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” He released me and reached for his cell.

  As I gave him my number, I studied the way the glow from the hospital and a street lamp sent sharp angular shadows over his cheek and caught the tips of his hair.

  Maybe I should go with him. It’s been so long since I had the pleasure of a man in bed.

  I dragged in a deep breath then delved into my purse for my keys. “Thank you for the cola.”

  He grinned and slipped his phone
away. “I’ll take you somewhere grander for our second date. No bar staff dressed as elves, no corny Christmas music.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” I got into my car and shut the door.

  As I drove off, I glanced in my rear-view mirror.

  He was standing in the spot I’d parked, hands shoved low in his jeans pockets and watching me leave.

  I flicked on the radio. Wham’s Last Christmas was playing. I thought of the video that went with it—couples in love, spending Christmas together, heartbreak, longing, memories.

  “Damn it.” Nathan Walker could be a walking heartbreaker for all I knew. He certainly had the looks, the moves, and the ability to chip away at my usually solid armor. I’d have to be careful. Make a plan before the second date and stick to it.

  I arrived home and did as I’d promised myself. Ran the tub, filled it with spiced cinnamon bubble bath, and climbed in with a book. I could barely concentrate, though. Usually if my mind wandered when trying to read it was because I was concerned about a patient or working through a complex diagnosis, but this time it was none of those things. It was Nathan. He’d filled my thoughts, and memories of that kiss kept rolling over me and making my entire body tremble.

  Chapter Five

  I woke early the next morning—too early for a Sunday—and reached for my laptop. I needed to know more about the hockey player who’d hijacked my evening, lodged himself in my thoughts, and sneaked his way into the very hot, very kinky dream I’d just had.

  I typed his name.

  A string of search results came up, and I glanced at the headlines.

  Nathan The Flash Walker is top scorer of the season so far. The Flash does it again for The Vipers. Nathan Walker showing his true value and why he was worth THAT contract. The Flash is unstoppable. Nathan Walker spotted with yet another beauty on his arm.

  “What?”

  Beauty on his arm?

  I clicked the link. A Huffington Post article appeared. At the top was a photograph of Nathan with a woman. She had flowing blonde hair, perfect make-up, and a red dress that showed a daring amount of cleavage. He was leaning close and had his arm set firmly about her waist.

  I started reading.

  Since his divorce from Wendy Schnider, Nathan ‘The Flash’ Walker has wasted no time getting back in the ‘lurve’ saddle. He’s been spotted with up-and-coming actress, Naomi Teller, and now with Rachel Brent at a charity ball hosted by The Vipers’ owner, Fergal Gunner.

  I pressed my fingers over my lips as my guts rolled and nausea washed over me. He was a player in more than one sense of the word.

  Walker is flying high right now and taking the Vipers to places they’ve only dreamed of in the past. His on-ice presence daunts every opponent who faces him, and his speed and skill is awe-inspiring. He’s clearly a hit out of the stadium, though, and enjoying life as a single man. This picture of him with an unknown beauty was taken the very next night after the charity ball at the premier of Under Attack.

  I studied the image. Nathan stood with a young woman; too young for him by far. She was tall and slim, her hair long, dark, and glossy, and her make-up subtle which was perhaps why she looked so young. Her black dress was more conservative than the other woman’s, and she had her hand linked through the crook of Nathan’s arm. He was smiling broadly.

  “Oh God. What am I doing even thinking about dating this man?”

  It was clear Nathan was exactly what Ben and Nicola had told me—trouble; trouble for my heart, my concentration, and my life. There would be no second date. The last thing I wanted was to be another image in an article like this. There were three more shots at the end. One of him on the ice, one with a woman who appeared much like the blonde in the first picture, and one with a female with dark curly hair who he was talking to outside the Vipers’ stadium.

  I flicked the laptop closed and stomped to the kitchen. How easily I’d been duped by a hot body and a charming smile. He was good, I’d give him that. The flowers, hanging out with the kids…that heart-stopping kiss.

  I tutted and made coffee. This was why I didn’t date. It was a waste of time and emotional energy. I didn’t want to be single all my life, of course I didn’t. The thought of a special person to share experiences with was a dream of mine, the same way I suspected it was for most people. If I could fast-forward five years, have a tall, dark, handsome husband who was hard-working and loyal, good in bed, too, that would suit me well. The in-between bit, finding someone, I could do without.

  My cell trilled to life. I glanced at the screen. It was an unidentified number, but I recognized the last five digits from the card that came with the flowers.

  Nathan.

  “Wow, fast work, Casanova,” I muttered and switched it to silent.

  As I sipped my coffee, my phone rang again, vibrating on the work surface. Again, I ignored it and made my way to the shower. I didn’t need to go into work today, but I would. I wanted to see how my bypass patient from the day before was doing.

  By late afternoon, I’d had four missed calls from Nathan, which was ridiculous, so I switched the damn thing off. As I did so, I looked at the flowers on my desk then at the trash. If I could have gotten the huge bunch in the container I would have, but there was no way even with a bit of bashing they’d fit. And besides, it wasn’t the flowers’ fault the man who’d sent them was a douchebag.

  My day ended with another long hot soak in the tub. If Ben had been around, I would have joined him and Lisa for a barbeque on a Sunday evening, perhaps a swim in their pool. But without him, I was at a loose end. I could have rung Amanda and Richard and gotten myself an invite there—Richard was a childhood friend of ours, family almost. But I didn’t have the energy. In truth, I wanted to lick my wounds, sift through my thoughts, and be embarrassed on my own about the fact I’d very nearly fallen for the charms of the NHL’s biggest cad.

  Monday started with a ward round, then I spent the afternoon in theatre working on a valve replacement. It was a child, and the vessels so tiny it required all of my patience and concentration. I then spent time in intensive care going through blood results with interns. When I finally got up to my office, day was becoming night and Nicola was just leaving.

  “Hi, Dr. Delaney,” she said. “Good day?”

  “Long day.”

  “There’s a few letters on your desk which require your attention, a rep called and asked if he could present the new stents to your team, and…” Her sentence trailed off.

  “What?”

  “And Nathan Walker has called three times.”

  I groaned. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “He’s got it bad, wants you to call him as soon as you can.”

  “Which will be never.”

  “Why? He’s a hottie.”

  “And, to quote you right back, he’s also trouble.”

  Nicola shrugged. “What hockey player isn’t?” A giggle burst upward. “And besides, trouble is more interesting than boring.”

  “I really haven’t got time.” I sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “No, it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow, I’m off. And I need to get myself organized for the big day. I’ve hardly done anything. Why is it always left to the mom?”

  Christmas was barely on my radar. “Happy Christmas, Nicola, and thank you.”

  “Happy Christmas to you, too.”

  She slipped from the room, and I walked into my office and up to the window. Lights from the bar on the other side of the lot twinkled through the darkness, and to the right of it a shop had balanced a reindeer and sleigh on its roof. My attention strayed to the place Nathan had kissed me.

  “Damn you.” I touched my lips. “How did you make such an impression so quickly?”

  After filing the paperwork Nicola had set out for me, I made the decision to go the Vipers’ stadium and pick up my torch. Fergal’s secretary had told me it was now in Ben’s office. I didn’t want to have it sitting around all over the holidays; there was more cha
nce it would go walkabout if I did that.

  The stadium was in semi-darkness, nothing like the way it was lit when a game was on. As I stepped out of the car, the quiet wrapped around me, and I was aware of the lack of scents that had hit my nostrils last time I’d been here.

  After letting myself in through a side entrance, using the code Ben had given me, I strode down the maze of corridors. My feet ached, and a dull thud had made itself at home in my temple. I needed to eat and rest and finish my day off. This detour really was the last thing I wanted.

  Eventually, I located the office, and sure enough, my torch was on Ben’s desk. I slipped it into my purse then paused and looked around. I missed Ben so much; I’d be glad when he was home, but standing in his domain, his workplace, made me feel a little closer to him.

  My stomach growled, and I strode from the office, shutting the door up behind me. I wandered back the way I’d come, or at least the way I’d thought I’d come. I spotted the home team’s locker room door, suppressing a flush as I recalled who I’d stumbled across last time I’d gone in there and his state of undress.

  Damn it. I’d taken a wrong turn.

  I passed a set of offices, then pushed through two wide doors, and the moment I did, I knew I’d made an even bigger mistake.

  The cool scent of ice filtered up my nose, and the chill air washed over my cheeks. The sound of blades slicing over the rink filled my ears, and a blur of red and white streaked past me.

  I’d accidently ended up in the same compartment by the rink as I’d sat in when I’d been acting medic.

  The right thing to do would have been to quickly slip out again, but I was held hostage by my curiosity as two players battled for the puck. I had no idea who they were, they didn’t have names on their shirts, but they were going full throttle toward a padded-up goalie.

  Suddenly one flicked the puck, hard, and it hit the back of the net.

  There was a whoop, and the player who’d scored the point held his stick aloft and spun. He spun toward me. Stopped. Stared.

  It was him. Nathan Walker.