Simmering Ice

by Veronica Forand

  One phone call was all it took to reduce her to feeling like a giant disappointment. Pacing the floor, she tensed and released her muscles. Deep breath in, slow exhale out. She couldn’t be Lynn, or a carbon copy of her mother, or cook her way out of a frozen dinner box. So what? Another breath. Calm wouldn’t come. She snatched a throw pillow off the chair and hurled it against the couch. Her dad hadn’t cared about any of those things. He’d been proud of her. Until he’d left and replaced them with a new family, and a new daughter had become the center of his world.

  At the knock on the door, her stomach jumped. She straightened the pillow. Inhaling another deep breath, she fanned her face and then opened the door. Her landlady stood less than a foot away, with her hand poised to knock. “Good. You’re home.”

  “Come on in. It’s too cold to be outside.” She stepped back to allow Elsie entrance. The floor’s wooden planks creaked with every step.

  “I brought you some dinner.” The scent of tomato sauce wafted from a covered dish.

  “Thanks. I’ll have it tomorrow. I’m eating dinner out tonight.”

  “Not the diner again.”

  Annie’s lips twitched at her ominous tone. “No.”

  “You have a date?” Faded blue eyes sharpened. She followed Annie into the kitchen.

  Getting anyone’s hopes up wouldn’t be smart, but she couldn’t ignore the pulse of happiness. “Maybe.”

  “After that last loser you dated, this guy better be good enough for you.” She handed over the dish and wiped her hands on her apron. “Have fun and be careful.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded. “I’ll let you finish getting ready. I’m bringing dinner to Vito, too. That man forgets to eat.”

  Annie grinned. The widower in the house next door had his hands full with the feisty woman. “I’m sure he can’t wait.” She walked her to the door, then spent a few seconds straightening the pillows on the couch and the magazines on the coffee table.

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Her heartbeat ticked a few extra beats in quick succession. She tugged the door open, palms sweating, stomach fluttering. Alec’s gaze met hers and electricity jolted up her spine faster than lightning flashed across the sky.

  In his navy blue sweatshirt, gray mesh shorts, and sneakers, he looked ready for their scheduled one-on-one. An appreciative stare roamed her body, and she straightened her spine. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.” Annie tightened her grip on the knob to keep from reaching out to him.

  “You look great.” He stepped closer. The scent of his soap or cologne beckoned her. Her heart jolted into rapid beats. Swallowing hard, she took a step back.

  The door creaked on its hinges. Cold air stung her cheeks as wind whipped into the living room. “Come in while I grab my bag.”

  She turned off the television, shrugged into the thick fleece jacket that had been a birthday present from her sister, and tried not to be too concerned over what Alec thought of her apartment.

  He glanced at the ceiling and buckets then swung her duffel bag over his shoulder. “Ready?”

  “For anything.” She grabbed her purse and keys and pulled the door closed at her back.

  When they reached his car, he opened her door for her. Annie climbed inside, then glanced at the curtains on Elsie’s front window. Almost on cue, they fluttered closed.

  She turned toward Alec. He kept her entertained with stories of his teammates until they arrived at the rec center.

  “I’ve never seen it this crowded on a weeknight,” she noted, and climbed out of the car.

  “I reserved a court for us.” He led her into the building. When they arrived at the court, he turned toward her. “The first one to reach twenty points wins.”

  “What’s the prize?”

  His eyes heated. “The winner gets to decide.”

  A stab of awareness lanced through her. She grabbed a ball, dribbled down the court, and executed a perfect lay-up.

  Alec jogged to her side. “Nice moves.” He ran a fingertip down the side of her face then knocked the ball out of her hands and took off down the court.

  “That’s not very sportsmanlike,” she called after him and raced to catch up. The ball swooshed through the net.

  “Three pointer.” He grinned and caught the rebound. The muscles in his back and arms bunched with every dibble.

  Alec’s big body blocked hers. She reached around him and managed to knock the ball free. Elbowing him in the ribs, she attempted to regain possession.

  It slipped from his grip too easily. She stopped moving. “Are you going easy on me? If you think you’re going to let me win….”

  “You kidding? No way. I already know what I want as a prize.”

  “Good.” She gave him a sweet smile, then pounced and snagged the ball. Sneakers squeaked against the polished wood floor as they raced back and forth, their bodies bumping together when they reached each basket.

  As the points mounted, her body heated and sweat trickled down her back. Alec may have been a seasoned athlete, but in addition to her weekend basketball league, she kept herself in shape with regular runs on the beach.

  A whistle exited his lips, and he wiped sweat off of his forehead. “You’re good.”

  She watched the ball sail into the net. Fifteen points for her. “Thanks.”

  “But I play to win.” He gently nudged her side, and the ball bounced out of her hands.

  “Hey.”

  He held the ball high over his head. “Think I’m still going easy on you?”

  Holding back a laugh, she launched herself at the ball. The tips of her fingers brushed the dimpled surface, and then met the soft material of Alec’s shirt. “That’s not playing fair.”

  “No?” With a sharp pivot, he jumped and arced the ball through the air. It bounced off the backboard, then rolled around the rim and fell through the net in another three-pointer. He pumped his fist in the air. “That’s twenty points. I win.”

  “Congratulations. So, what do you want as your prize?”

  He dropped the ball, and it rolled across the court. Warm hands cupped her face. His thumb brushed her cheek. “This,” he murmured and lowered his head toward hers.

  Firm lips coaxed hers apart, and his tongue traced the line of her lips before diving inside to dual with hers. Annie grasped his biceps and hung on as her system went on overdrive. Seeking more, she rose onto her toes and leaned into him.

  With a low growl, Alec slid his hands to tangle in her hair. He deepened the kiss. Everything faded but the feel of his mouth on hers and the heat of his body against her own.

  After a long moment, she angled her head away and slipped her arms around his waist.

  His muscles tightened at her touch.

  “I want a rematch.” She almost didn’t recognize her own voice, pitched lower and breathless.

  “Any time. Anywhere.” The whispered words trailed over her skin, and she didn’t care at all about keeping score.

  …

  Alec had never taken a woman out to a sporting event where she was in the game. Annie was an amazing athlete and an even more amazing kisser. He could still taste her, sweet with a side of “fuck, yes.” Perhaps there’d be more opportunities at dinner. This was the first time he’d been out with a woman where they both left each other to shower in the middle of the date. He raced through cleaning up, and then sat on a small bench in the hallway to wait for her.

  With the last few women he’d taken out, they’d ended up at a restaurant where he was urged to go over his hockey resume like he was out for a job interview and then listen while the woman droned on about how her life history brought her to this point in time. Their meeting had been fate, a few had insisted. He’d rarely made it to a second date. Annie, however, didn’t seem all caught up in his celebrity. She seemed more caught up in him.

  He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible in the lobby, but two guys noticed him and offered him some advice on working the forward line
more aggressively. When he looked up from a notebook he’d signed, Annie was smiling at him across the hall, her long hair, still damp, hung down her back. The woman was speedy, out only five minutes after him. Was she wearing makeup? It didn’t matter—her face was perfect. Sparkling eyes, and her lips… He said good-bye to the guys and then walked over to her.

  “You’re fast,” he said.

  “Not as fast as you.”

  “But I’m not as pretty as you.”

  She laughed. “That’s debatable.”

  “So you think I’m pretty?” He batted his eyelashes, and she responded with huge grin.

  “You’re something special to look at. Trust me. Those women in the locker room were talking about the hot blond with muscles to spare on the basketball court. One of them mentioned taking you home.”

  “They can talk all they want. I’m taking a certain redhead home with me.”

  Her footsteps slowed. “I thought we were going out for dinner?”

  “I’m making you dinner. If that’s okay with you?”

  “At your house?” She spoke with a hesitation.

  He hadn’t thought about sounding too forward, as his prior dates practically begged to get close to his bedroom. He turned to face her. “Just dinner. I promise.”

  The tension in her face relaxed. “Sounds great.”

  When they arrived at his house, she glanced around the kitchen and the living room.

  Slash, the gray tabby who had adopted Alec, prowled into the room, headed for Annie, and rubbed against her legs. Damnedest thing. The cat had always been skittish around anyone who came into his home.

  “Aww, he’s cute.” She stooped to pet the cat. “What’s his name?”

  “Slash. I found him sitting on the front porch a few months ago. He refused to leave.”

  She scratched between the cat’s ears and received a purr as encouragement to continue. “Do you always take in strays?”

  “Only the coolest ones.”

  After the cat wandered away, probably gloating at the amount of admiration he’d received, Alec led Annie to a stool at the island and went to pour her a glass of wine. “Red or white?”

  “Red, please.”

  “How long have you lived in Atlantic City?” he asked.

  “A few years.”

  “Have you always lived in the same apartment?”

  “I know it doesn’t look like much.” She took a sip of the wine he’d handed her. “My landlady is like family, and she’s trying so hard to get things fixed up. Funds are tight right now. It’s hard when insurance costs are so high and not every repair is covered.”

  “I worry about your safety. I mean, I don’t want to overstep my bounds.”

  She shouldn’t be living in such a dangerous building. The roof appeared ready to cave in with the slightest bit of wind.

  She shrugged. “What’s for dinner?”

  He didn’t want to offend her, so he let it go.

  “Steak.”

  She tapped her fingers on the granite surface. “You told me you couldn’t cook.”

  “That’s not cooking, it’s grilling.”

  “Semantics.”

  “No. One involves braving the cold weather out on my porch with a large slab of beef on an open flame.”

  He handed her the glass of merlot and went onto the porch overlooking the ocean to light the grill. A cold breeze drifted through the door when he returned.

  “You’re insane.” Her laughter, however, told him she just might like insane.

  “I’m a hockey player. I love the cold.”

  “You’d think you’d want some warmth in your life instead of more frigid temperatures.”

  He glanced over her athletic figure dressed in jeans and a heavy yellow sweater, feeling hungrier than he had all day. Heat would not be a problem if she remained nearby.

  His stare must have given away his thoughts, because her gaze dropped to the counter, and she blushed. Damn, she was amazing.

  “Have fun. I’ll keep an eye on Slash.” She lifted the cat into her arms. Alec had never been more jealous of a tiny animal. He lifted Slash away from her, rubbed his head and placed him on the ground.

  A drop of the merlot had rested in the middle of her lower lip. Too tempting. He kissed her lips, tasting the wine and then going deeper for more of her. She moaned softly. Her free arm rested on his shoulder. She pressed closer into him and shivered. An amazing feeling until he realized he’d left the door open.

  “Cold?” He reached over and closed the door.

  “Heating up fast. Can I help with dinner?”

  “Why don’t you make the potatoes?”

  “Baked?”

  “Microwaved. It’ll be faster, and I can’t tell the difference.”

  They separated for a few minutes while he set the steaks on the grill, and she placed three potatoes in the microwave over his stove. They met back at the island. He clasped a few strands of her hair between his fingertips. “It’s still damp. That’s what’s making you cold.”

  “I’ll be fine, Sequoia,” she said with a smirk.

  “Alec. Only true fans and hockey players can call me that.”

  “I’m a fan. Where did the name come from?”

  “Massive growth spurt in eighth grade. It wasn’t easy to relearn balance on the ice after shooting up six inches in a matter of months. Kids made fun of me, I practiced twice as much to make up for my new size, and soon the nickname stood more for strength than height.”

  “I love it. You should tell that story to Colin when you meet him. He’s a bit tall and gawky at this stage, and the name calling hurts him.”

  “I will.”

  He took her wine glass and placed it on the counter. “I need to check the steaks. Come with me.”

  “You want me outside after all your talk about my wet hair?”

  “Chicken?”

  She straightened her shoulders and walked past him to the door. With a very sexy look over her shoulder, she motioned for him to follow. “Coming?”

  He chuckled and followed her to the grill, as requested. When he lifted the lid, fire spit out toward them. She backed straight into his arms.

  “Don’t worry, I can protect you.”

  She turned around, her chest pressed against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she tugged him toward her. “I’m terrified,” she murmured. Then she kissed him. The cool from the ocean, the heat from the grill, and the intensity of their embrace shattered all of his senses until nothing existed but this woman and her captivating presence.

  Heat exploded around him. Literally. Flames shot out from under the lid.

  “Damn. Step back.” He shifted her behind him before he opened the grill. A flash of fire pushed them both back a step, and then everything settled. He placed the charred steaks onto a plate. “Zac grills much better than I do. I tend to let him handle the burgers and steak at team get-togethers.”

  “And I distracted you.” Her arms went around his waist from behind. A perfect fit.

  “The best of kind of distraction.”

  He shut down the grill, and they went inside. The smell of smoke had carried into the house. No. The smell was coming from the microwave. The smoking microwave.

  “Oh no. The potatoes.” She rushed to open the door.

  It was too late to save them. They’d exploded. Burned, dried out remnants of them had splattered and made a mess. The smell alone wouldn’t leave the kitchen for a week, but nothing was as bad as the time Mikael had somehow caught the microwave on fire by trying to melt butter.

  “They should have cooked for five minutes each side. Did you pierce them with a fork?” he asked.

  Her sexy smile fell into an embarrassed frown. “No. I’m so sorry. I told you I’m not a cook.”

  He held up the plate of blackened steak and grinned. “Neither am I. We can order out for pizza.”

  She started to clean up the potatoes, but he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Leave it. It needs to co
ol down.”

  Her brow creased, and she shook her head with a frown. “I’m not exactly domestic.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t invite you over here to test your culinary ability.”

  The frown relaxed, and she licked those perfect lips. “Why did you invite me over here?”

  “I wanted to spend time with you alone.” It was true. Public venues wouldn’t give him a chance to know her better.

  He called for the pizza and brought her over to the couch in the living room to wait. Although the evening wasn’t turning out as he’d expected, things proceeded nicely. They told each other several horror cooking stories, such as the time he’d boiled the pasta so long it had turned to soup. Her descriptions of her sister and mother’s abilities, however, included a list of awards won and in her words “the ability to make food into a religious experience.” And yet, there was something missing from her words. A sadness that reflected in her eyes when she spoke about her family.

  When she placed her wine glass on the side table of the couch, she almost knocked over the small picture of Tamara wrapped in a blanket during one of his early college games. Her red hair matched the red color peeking out of the blanket.

  “You must miss her.” She lifted the photo and turned toward him, her expression somber.

  “Every day. We’d been together since high school.”

  Annie didn’t say anything. Shit. How to destroy the evening. What could he say? I’m learning to get along without her? I’m ready to begin again. Nothing much could be said without sounding like a fucking Hallmark card.

  Annie put back the photo and placed her hand on his. They remained sitting in silence together. Hand in hand. More comforting to each other than anything else. Not exactly the sensual evening he’d had planned.

  “Maybe it’s time for me to put the picture in a less prominent spot,” he said.

  She squeezed his hand. “Take your time. I’ve heard everyone grieves in their own time.”

  Terrific. A cryptic message. Did she just push him away? Pulling her into a kiss at this point would be screwed up in so many ways. Yep, the picture was moving into his closet after Annie left.