“I like them. I just don’t find them romantic.” She found a vase and filled it with water. “I don’t like to follow the crowd.”
“That’s for sure.”
Was that approval in his voice? Heat rose in her cheeks as she realized how much she wanted that approval. She fussed with the gerberas, arranging them carefully, to hide her blush. Then she carried the vase into the living room and placed it on the mantelpiece. “You can sit down, you know.”
“I’m good, thanks.” He moved toward the coffee table and picked up one of the tiny glass vials. “So you haven’t done the first injection yet?”
Her stomach squeezed. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”
“That’s why I’m here, to support you,” he said earnestly.
Despite his discomfort about the injections, he really was prepared to help her.
Why are you surprised? That’s what Tru does. How he is. How he’s always been.
Because this was the first time someone other than Harry had put her needs first.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“What do you need me to do?” He rubbed his hands together. “The sooner you get this injection done, the sooner we can celebrate.”
Jenny frowned. “There’s nothing to celebrate. We won’t know whether there are any eggs present for a couple of weeks.”
Tru shook his head at her. “You may not have celebrated in the past, but this is a new cycle. Remember?”
She nodded. “But shouldn’t we...”
Tru didn’t let her finish. “One shift at a time. And we celebrate every new stage. Deal?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. Determination gleamed in his green eyes. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t face the process or the results alone. She squared her shoulders. “All right. Time for action.”
As she reached for the auto-injector, Tru flinched. “I should...uh...get some glasses.”
Jenny smiled. “First cupboard on the left. Top shelf.”
His speedy exit was impressive. All those shift changes had made him quick on his feet. Now it was her turn to move fast. By the time she heard the cork pop, she’d injected herself and the IVF kit was tucked away in a drawer.
Tru’s shoulders relaxed when he saw the empty coffee table. He handed her a glass of sparkling amber liquid. “How are you feeling?”
“Nervous. Scared. Excited. Veering between cautious optimism and gloomy pessimism.” She sighed. “I’ll be okay.”
“The injection doesn’t make you woozy or anything?”
“No, I feel fine.”
“Good.” Tru shifted closer, raising his glass. “Make a toast.”
Distracted by his masculine scent, and the skitter of her pulse in response, Jenny scrambled to think of something to say. “To...new beginnings.”
“I like the sound of that.” He clinked his glass to hers, brushing her knuckles with his.
Sparks fizzed through her blood, like the bubbles in her glass. Their gazes met. She was captivated by the intensity in his green eyes.
Her heartbeat grew thunderous and heavy. Suddenly, she longed to be pressed against his broad shoulders and solid chest. Against the soft, worn jeans that clung to his powerful thighs. To feel his strong arms around her, urging her closer.
Jenny wanted to throw caution aside. To give in to the feelings coursing through her.
The fire in Tru’s eyes began to glow. She could almost feel its heat shimmering across her face. An answering flame flared deep within her.
His gaze released hers and slipped lower. To her mouth. She swallowed hard. Maybe...just this once.
He took her glass and set it on the coffee table, then placed his hands lightly on her hips.
She accepted the invitation and swayed closer, until there was barely an inch between their bodies. Tilted her head, until there was barely a breath separating their lips.
“What happened to ‘strictly business’?”
Tru’s murmured question buzzed like a pesky fly. Jenny swatted it away. She needed to taste him. It had been too long.
“Back to business...later,” she muttered, then flicked her tongue over his bottom lip.
He inhaled sharply. “Are you sure?” he rasped.
The aching need in his voice strummed a taut cord in her and desire swept away her caution. She nodded, then kissed him.
His mouth welcomed her. His arms came round her, banding her tightly against him as if he was afraid she’d escape.
Not a chance.
Her tongue explored his lips, his mouth. He tasted the same, yet different. Deeper. Darker. Delicious.
Her fingers urgently caressed the nape of his neck, his broad shoulders, then burrowed into his thick hair. Blood pounded through her veins. Her skin quivered with his touch as his hands ran up over her back, down her sides, then gripped her hips.
This is what she’d been looking for. What she’d been missing with other men. Now that she’d found it, she wanted more.
As if he’d read her mind, Tru murmured, “More.”
Without breaking the kiss, they sank onto the sofa. Jenny reveled in his hot, hard body pushing her back into the plump cushions. His hot, hard erection thrusting against her.
Bells rang.
Wow! That really did happen with the right guy.
Tru muttered something against her lips, then started to move away.
No. Not yet. Jenny shook her head, then tugged his head, his mouth, back to her.
The bells stopped, but the passion, the urgency, didn’t.
Her fingers explored—his shoulders, his back, his butt. Frustrated by the barrier of clothing, she yanked his shirt out of his jeans and slid her hands underneath the soft fabric. She splayed her hands over his smooth skin and stroked the rippling ridges of muscle.
Tru’s hands weren’t idle. He undid the buttons of her blouse and parted the edges, baring her to his heated gaze and fiery touch. It was a rare pleasure not to be the one in the couple expected to deliver satisfaction.
Maybe Tru would give her the satisfaction that had so far eluded her.
Her breath caught as his fingers skated across the sensitive skin of her tummy, then up the side of her body from her hips to the curve of her breast. There, he lingered, tracing a path back and forth, beneath the elastic of her bra. Then his right hand moved over the silky fabric to the shoulder strap. His forefinger slid underneath, stroking along her collarbone to the hollow of her throat, where it rested over her throbbing pulse. After several moments, his finger reversed course, then ventured downward, following the lace-edged cup until it reached the bow in the middle.
He growled deep in his throat. His frustration mimicked the need racing through her. Thrilled her.
More bells. This time, the sound was discordant.
Tru’s reaction to the unwelcome intrusion was the same as hers. They gripped tighter, pressed closer, kissed harder until the noise stopped. Then they sighed in unison and continued their sensual explorations.
The muscles in her belly quivered as his fingers returned to her bra, sliding underneath and stroking her breast. Moist heat pooled between her legs as he pushed her bra upward, rasping over her taut nipples.
His fingers moved over the sensitive skin as smoothly as he moved over the ice—covering the surface as if he was searching for a gap in the defense so he could take his shot. Instead of a goal net, his target was an aching pink peak.
Typical defenseman. Taking his sweet time. Cycling and circling, never finishing his move. Jenny moaned against Tru’s lips. Shoot, damn it!
The bells clanged again. Somewhere in the depths of her brain, Jenny registered that her phone was ringing.
Tru must have realized the same thing. He softened his lips, ending the kiss, before
pulling back. He eased into a sitting position by her right hip as the phone stopped.
The sudden silence broke the spell, dampening the vestiges of desire that hummed through her body and leaving her feeling disoriented. Tru’s position, looking down at her, made her feel exposed. Vulnerable.
Needing to regain control, she sat up. That brought her close to Tru’s body. She scooted backward until she hit the arm of the sofa.
Dropping her gaze, she realized she was still partially undressed. Heat filled her cheeks at the sign of how carried away she’d been.
Had she lost her mind? Clearly. She knew all the arguments against starting something with Tru, so why... She cut off her mental rant and took a calming breath.
Jenny was used to being in control of her emotions and her body. It was the young guys who’d felt overwhelmed by her. Yet she’d responded to Tru like a desperate teenager.
She sneaked a look at Tru. A bolt of desire shot through her as she watched him drag his gaze up from her breasts. She was relieved, and a little thrilled, that passion still raged in the depths of his green eyes.
Tru’s hand shook slightly as he reached toward her. Her stomach tightened as he gently tugged her bra down, then pulled the edges of her blouse together, covering her.
His gesture touched her. He was looking after her again. Yet it also unsettled her. She didn’t need looking after.
Jenny brushed his hand aside so she could button up her blouse. “I can take it from here,” she said huskily.
Tru nodded. He looked as if he was going to say something. Please don’t, she willed him desperately. She didn’t want to discuss what had happened.
He must have received her message. He picked up their glasses from the table, handing one to her. “We should drink to that toast.”
“Good idea.” Jenny gulped a mouthful from her glass.
Almost instantly, she felt giddy. “Whoa.”
Putting her glass down, she rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers. “The bubbles have gone to my head.”
“Are you sure it’s the bubbles? When did you last eat?”
“I had...” She paused. “Breakfast?”
“You shouldn’t be skipping meals.”
His chiding tone hit Jenny’s hot button.
“It wasn’t intentional. I’ve spent the whole day chasing my tail.” She jumped up. “Irving’s lawyer gave me the runaround about confirming in writing that all debts were cleared, finally and in full. Then I had to fill in reams of paperwork for the payment plan for Lizzie’s college fees. You’d think I wanted to buy the place from all the information they asked for. On top of that, I got called to the Ice Cats’ press conference confirming Dale Macarty as the new coach. I hung around for an hour waiting for an interview, only to have him cancel. I think I can be forgiven for forgetting lunch.”
“I’m sorry.” Tru held up his hands in mock surrender. “I wasn’t criticizing. I was concerned. How about I make amends and fix you something to eat.” He rose. “Is there anything in your refrigerator?”
Slightly startled, she stammered, “Uh yes. You’re going to cook?”
“My pasta special. Jake and my brothers love it.”
If the man wanted to feed her, who was she to argue? “The kitchen’s all yours.”
“Keep me company while I work my magic,” he called over his shoulder.
Jenny hesitated. If his pasta special was anywhere close to the magic she’d experienced in his arms, she might be in more trouble than she thought.
* * *
TRU’S FAMOUS SAUCE wasn’t the only thing simmering in the kitchen. Hell, he could almost hear the crackle of sexual electricity over the sizzle of browning meat. He wouldn’t be surprised to see sparks arcing over the counter between him and Jenny.
Which wasn’t good. For his sanity or his peace of mind.
As he added chopped herbs to the meat, Tru realized no matter how much he’d sworn any feelings he’d had for Jenny were dead, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, Jenny still heated his blood faster than any other woman ever had. Man, one touch of her lips and he’d been floored, as if his skates had been swept out from under him.
Jenny had always stirred emotions and fire in him, even when they’d barely exchanged a civil word. What he realized now was that he still liked her more than any other woman, too.
Unfortunately, he also couldn’t be near Jenny without his body reacting to her.
At least their kiss had punted that stupid “strictly business” arrangement between the uprights. He’d been a fool to think anything he did with Jenny could ever be businesslike.
He added chopped tomatoes to the pan. Thank God the counter masked his growing problem. There had to be a rule somewhere that you shouldn’t get hard over the woman you were helping to impregnate.
He glanced at Jenny, who was preparing a salad on the other side of the breakfast bar. He wondered how Jenny felt. Would she acknowledge things had changed between them?
Jenny looked up and smiled. “That smells delicious.”
Damn it. Even her throaty compliment turned him on.
Forcing his mind back to the bubbling sauce, he dipped a tablespoon into the pot, then leaned toward her. “Here. Have a taste.”
She readily accepted his offer. “Mmm. Delicious.” She licked her lips.
Pleased, he tried to look humble. “It’s all because of my secret ingredients.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “What are they?”
“There’s a reason they’re called ‘secret.’” He waggled a wooden spoon at her. “Besides, I’m not spilling to a member of the press.”
“You can trust me.” She batted her eyelashes. “My lips are sealed.”
Do not think about how you could unseal them. “Yeah, right. Next thing I know, you’ll mention my recipe on The Journal’s blog and probably give the Cats another reason why I should be traded.” He was only half joking.
“Why would they care?” Jenny frowned. “It’s not a crime for a player to be able to cook. Most of the top chefs are men.”
“You know how some people think.” He banged his chest like a caveman. “Me professional athlete. Me only grill.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t print your shameful hobby.”
“I’m still not telling you.” He grinned. “Though I may be open to bribes.”
“Then I’ll have to think of something to tempt you with.”
Her husky words sent a jolt of desire through his body. Turquoise sparks danced in her eyes, conjuring up images of the bribes she might have in mind.
He grabbed his wineglass and took a large gulp, hoping the cool liquid would dampen his desire.
It didn’t.
“I can resist your temptation.” He hoped the cockiness in his voice masked his lie.
“You’ve always resisted me easily.” There was a hint of disappointment in her tone.
“Always?” he challenged softly.
“In recent years, for sure.”
“You were able to resist me easily, too.”
She tilted her head. “I had other interests.”
His stomach tightened at the reminder of what, or who, she’d been interested in.
Then he told himself it didn’t matter who Jenny had been with in the past. Hell, he hadn’t been a saint, either. They were done with the past. Only the future mattered. Starting with this evening.
Tru turned his attention back to the stove. “How’s that salad coming?”
“I’ve done my part, chef.” She handed him the filled bowl. “Anything else?”
“Looks good.” He put a pot of salted water on to boil. “Why don’t you get some plates, then top up the drinks?”
“Sure.”
Tru almost groane
d aloud as Jenny bent to get a couple of pasta plates from a low cupboard. He turned so she wouldn’t see how her deliciously curved ass had affected him.
Jenny brushed his arm as she leaned over to put the plates on the counter next to him. The zing raced up to his shoulder, then spread like lightning through his body. So much for tamping down his desire. He stepped back quickly, out of reach. Unfortunately, as he did, he knocked Jenny’s arm. The plates dropped to the floor and smashed.
Crap. “I’m a clumsy idiot. I’ll replace them for you.”
“Don’t be silly. They weren’t part of a fancy china set. They were only cheap dishes.”
“Well, I’ll find you some similar bowls.”
She smiled. “All right. If you insist.”
“Stay where you are, I’ll clean this up,” he said, as she picked up pieces of china.
“I don’t want you to cut yourself and pass out.” She grinned cheekily as she dropped the fragments in the trash.
“Where’s the gratitude?” he grumbled good-naturedly. “I’m protecting you from injury.”
“My hero.” Jenny got a brush and dustpan from the utility room and handed them to him. “I am grateful. With no health insurance, I can’t afford any trips to the emergency room.”
“What do you mean, no health insurance?” Tru straightened.
“I lost my insurance when I lost my job. The Journal won’t give me health cover unless I’m full-time, and my limited funds won’t stretch that far right now.”
He swore as he emptied the dustpan in the trash. “Harry’s stroke really screwed you, didn’t it?”
She gave a sad half shrug. “I wish he’d wake up and sort this all out. Until he does, health insurance will have to wait.”
Tru added pasta to the boiling water. “I’ll call Andy in the morning and get you put on my policy.”
Her chin came up. “There’s no need. It’s only for a few months, then I’ll get a plan.”
Jeez, she was stubborn. “What if you get sick in the meantime? What if the IVF works? You’ll need health care then. For sure, our baby will need to be covered.”
“You don’t need to pay for insurance on top of everything else.”
A Perfect Trade (Harlequin Superromance) Page 17
