Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2)

by Isabo Kelly

  “But how do you separate those parts of yourself?” She looked up then, really wanting to know.

  She felt so split down the middle. All the time. Most of her numb so she wouldn’t hurt anyone, but a part of her chafing at those restrictions and wanting to throw caution to the wind. She’d never dared before. Being out with Brody a second time was the closest she’d come to this kind of risk. So how did he contain the violence he showed during a game and not let it spill into his ordinary life?

  He shrugged. “I don’t separate anything. All of that is just who I am. The game is the game. Life outside the game is life.” He frowned at little. “I don’t know how to explain it any other way.”

  “You make it sound easy.” She wished she could do that. Allow her fire to just be part of her without taking over her life.

  She shook off the worry. She was learning, had learned a lot already. She felt more in control than she had in her entire life—though that wasn’t saying much since she’d never felt in control of her curse at all before now. With practice and patience, she hoped to go on and have a normal sort of life where the fire didn’t overwhelm everything.

  And she realized as she studied Brody’s handsome face, she’d like to spend more time with him without fear.

  “What are you ordering?” she asked, shifting to an easier subject.

  As promised the food was wonderful. Brody’s company was even better. He awed her with his ability to keep her comfortable. Had anyone in her entire life made her feel so at ease? She wasn’t even this relaxed around her own family.

  She smiled a lot as they chatted about things that weren’t scary or weird, things that normal people discussed. And not once, during the entire meal, did she boil her water on accident. At one point, she did have to excuse herself to the bathroom to do some slow breathing and cool her hands down, but she hadn’t felt like she might catch the restaurant on fire at any moment. She hadn’t really felt out of control. When the warning signs hit, she remained calm—as she’d been learning—and practiced the techniques she’d been taught.

  It was, by far, the most freeing date night she’d ever experienced.

  As they left the restaurant for a stroll through the still crowded, well-lit streets, she started to hope she could do this, go on dates with handsome men and enjoy herself.

  She glanced up at Brody. Not dates with handsome men, plural. Dates with this particular handsome man. She’d never known anyone quite like him, and as far as she was concerned, that made him even better.

  “What?” he asked when he caught her staring.

  “I’m having a really good time. Thank you for taking a chance on me again.”

  He took her arm, tugging her closer to his side. “It’s my absolute pleasure, Ann. Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

  They window shopped through the quirky stores that lined the narrow streets, and he pointed out a few of the restaurants he hadn’t tried yet but wanted to. She agreed to meet him for a third date at the Moroccan place once he got back to town after some away games. He didn’t even bother to hide his pleasure at her acceptance.

  And though she could have carried on that way for hours more, the cold eventually drove her to say, “I’d better get home.”

  “We could go for a drink first. Just one.”

  She smiled, thrilled more than she would admit that he wasn’t in a hurry to get rid of her.

  “Come on.” He bumped gently against her arm. “It’s Saturday night. You’re not working tomorrow, right?”

  “You said you had an early start. Packing for your trip before the afternoon game.”

  He waved that away. “I’ve been waiting to see you for almost two weeks. I am happy to sacrifice sleep so I can stay in your company longer.”

  “I still have no idea why.”

  “What does it matter? I like you. Have a drink with me. Then I’ll take you home.”

  “You’ll be going out of your way.” He had an apartment near Battery Park. Brooklyn was not on his way home from here.

  “It’s an excuse to spend more time with you. I won’t be able to see you for another week now. I need all the excuses I can get.”

  She shook her head but gave in. She didn’t really want to say goodnight yet either.

  The little Irish sports bar was quiet enough for them to talk, and though the bartender knew Brody immediately, he gave them privacy after exchanging a few words about the upcoming Winter Classic.

  Once settled in a booth with a pint of beer for him and a glass of wine for her—a risk as she rarely drank alcohol—she finally admitted something she’d been shying away from all night.

  “I know nothing about hockey. At all. I had no idea what was going on in the game I watched. But it looks very exciting. I don’t suppose you could teach me a little about it? So I understand what people are saying to you when they talk about your team and the games.”

  His expression went through several emotions she couldn’t read before settling into a huge grin.

  “I’d love to. Where should I start?”

  “The basics. The very basics.”

  For the next hour, he explained the game to her, in enough detail she thought she might understand a little more, and from there they moved on to talking about other sports, then her work, before circling back to their mutual passion for food.

  Before she knew it, it was two in the morning, and she’d managed the entire night without losing control of her fire while still thoroughly enjoying herself.

  Her pulse beat a steady, heady thrum every time she caught Brody’s scent, or he leaned in close enough for her to feel his heat. For once, her hands tingled with a need to touch rather than as a warning of potential disaster. And whenever he touched her, she felt it all the way to her toes.

  She was in trouble with this man. A lot of trouble. In serious danger of losing her heart. She couldn’t explain how it had happened since they’d only just met, this was only their second date, and she never lost her heart to anyone. But as she rose from the booth and he set a hand against her lower back to guide her out of the bar, her stomach danced in delicious excitement.

  She could fall for Brody. Hard.

  The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

  So much so, she didn’t argue when he flagged down a taxi then climbed in with her to take her home.

  By the time they reached her building—a narrow, four-story place, wedged between brownstones, with two apartments on each level—she finally started to feel the awkwardness that usually accompanied her dates. It got worse when he followed her to the front door after waving the taxi away.

  She hesitated on the stoop, part of her wanting to invite him up for a coffee, but the rest of her knowing if she did, he’d stay the night and she wasn’t even close to ready for that yet. She fidgeted with her keys, the silence between them making her feel even more awkward.

  Finally, he spoke and she nearly groaned aloud in relief.

  “The special events for the Winter Classic start after we get back,” he said. “There’s something going on in each borough during the build-up. A few formal parties after exhibition games. Stuff like that.”

  “When is it?”

  “The Classic is played January first, at the Queens Bank Stadium in Queens.”

  “It’s a big deal, right?”

  He grinned. “Pretty big deal. Do you ice skate?”

  “Never even tried.”

  “Can I bribe you into trying?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’d like you to come with me to the event in Bryant Park.”

  “Is this before or after you take me for Moroccan food?”

  His grin grew. “After.”

  “So you’re planning two dates ahead? You’re very confident we’ll have fun on our third date.”

  “Absolutely. What do you say? Music, ice skating, a concert that night by the Philharmonia. Our team captain, Chris Emmerson, his sister Kayleigh plays with the orchestra. I’
ve heard they’re excellent. I’ll have to do some media stuff, and sit with the team at the concert, but I’ll still have time to just enjoy the event. I’d like you to be there.”

  “Do I have to ice skate?”

  “I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

  “Impossible promise. What’s my bribe for agreeing to make a fool of myself in front of you and half of New York?”

  His expression went very serious and he took a step closer. She sucked in a breath, his nearness overwhelming and exciting all at once. He leaned close, putting his mouth by her ear. The brush of his hot breath sent her heartbeat thumping hard.

  Quietly, he murmured, “I’ll give you the one thing I know you want more than anything else.”

  She closed her eyes, thoughts of what he might be offering making it impossible for her to talk.

  He leaned even closer, his big body almost touching hers, and said, “More Mexican food.”

  His offer was so different from what she’d been expecting, and at the same time such a perfect bribe, an unexpected bubble of laughter popped out. She pressed a hand to her mouth, but she couldn’t contain her chuckle.

  “Tease,” she said through her amusement. “But that’s a very worthy bribe.”

  She looked up at him, still grinning at his joke, only to get caught in his intent gaze.

  “I’ve been waiting for that sound since we met,” he said. “Worth every minute.”

  He cradled her face in his big hands, his heat seeping into her skin an instant before he kissed her.

  She held very still for a split second, then opened for him, sinking into him, savoring the feel and taste of his mouth on hers. No almost-kiss for them this time. His lips were firm and soft at once, both gentle and intense. She set her hands against his chest, only a little amazed she could feel all his thick muscles even through coat and shirt. He was so large and solid, so tempting. She clenched her fingers into his coat to keep him near and rose up on her toes to deepen the kiss.

  He moved his hands from her face to wrap his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. Exactly where she wanted to be, her body tight to his. She tunneled her fingers through his hair and surrendered to simply feeling, letting the excitement build, the anticipation of more making her giddy.

  And then she felt the dreaded tingling in her hands, the warning that she’d let her control slip too far.

  Dropping her hold, she stepped back, breathing hard, surprised at how bereft she felt once out of his arms. The heat in her palms built dangerously high before she could calm herself enough to control it.

  She realized she’d dropped her keys during the kiss and used that as her excuse not to meet his gaze immediately. Very deliberately, she worked through the calming, control exercises she’d spent the week practicing, centering and breathing away the fire. She picked her keys up carefully, holding the leather keychain until she was sure she wouldn’t melt the metal. Then she stood to face Brody, bracing herself for… She wasn’t sure. His disappointment maybe?

  But he surprised her. Again.

  “Can I call you while I’m on the road?” he asked.

  No pressure to invite him in. No frown at her abrupt end to the kiss. No accusations of her being a tease. Just a simple request to stay in touch.

  She swallowed hard and nodded. “If you have time.”

  “I’ll make time.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Sleep well,” he murmured.

  He waited for her to unlock the building door and step into the narrow lobby. “Goodnight, Ann,” he said with a small, sexy smile.

  “Goodnight.” She watched long enough to see him reach the sidewalk before closing the solid wood door.

  Her skin still tingled as she started up the marble stairs to her third floor apartment. But for the first time in her life, she was more worried about the state of her heart than the fire.

  Chapter Nine

  Brody hunted the crowds outside the concert hall, then grinned when he spotted Ann walking toward him. She was wearing heals under her long black pants. He loved the way she walked in heals.

  He left his teammates to great her.

  “You look lovely,” he said when he reached her, charmed by her blush.

  “You can’t see what I’m wearing yet,” she said.

  “I wasn’t talking about your clothes. I’m glad you could make the concert. How’s your head?”

  She’d called that morning to back out of the ice skating, claiming a headache, but she had agreed to show for the concert, so he let his disappointment go. Seeing her now, he forgot all about it anyway.

  “Much better, thank you.” She scanned the crowds in the lobby of the concert hall. “This is exciting. I’ve never heard the Philharmonia play before.”

  “They’re doing a bunch of crossover stuff with the Classic events thanks to Emmerson’s sister playing with them.”

  “How nice.” She looked past him to the rest of the team. “I don’t want to keep you. I know you said you’d have to sit with them.”

  “I’m sorry we can’t sit together. But Nathalie is here. She’ll keep you company. And as promised, Mexican food after.”

  She frowned a little. “My stomach will be growling all the way through the concert now.”

  “Then I’ll know where you are.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled, and his heart thumped a little harder. He stayed with her, chatting as long as he could, then left her with Nathalie to rejoin his team.

  The concert was excellent, as he’d expected, though he would have preferred sitting with Ann. Fortunately, the new kid on the team, Max St. Laurent, the defensemen they’d brought up to fill in for Dobrynin, provided a good deal of entertainment by spending the concert drooling over Emmerson’s sister. Brody warned the kid that Emmerson would kick his ass, but the look on St. Laurent’s face said he wasn’t listening.

  That would make for a fun fight sometime down the road.

  As soon as he was able after the concert, Brody extracted himself from his teammates to find Ann. She was hovering at the back of the room with Nathalie, frowning slightly as Nat patted her arm in what looked like a reassuring gesture. The exchange worried him just enough that he almost missed the pained expression on St. Laurent’s face. He looked around in time to see the viola player from the Philharmonia baring down on them.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked his new defense partner.

  “This man…the viola player. I have been told to…avoid him. He is…not believing that an athlete that is…can speak two languages.”

  “Ah. He looks pretty intent on talking to you.” He patted the kid’s shoulder. “Leave it to me. Duck and hide. I’ll take care of him.”

  Brody headed the viola player off and went into a short ramble about violas and their position in an orchestra, followed by a brief discussion of the way classic violas were made, and a few random questions about the music the group had performed that evening. As usual, his conversation partner stared up at him with a slightly confused expression, lost in the flow of Brody’s subject-changing interest. Since he’d hoped for that reaction, he didn’t take it personally. When he was sure St. Laurent was away and safe, he patted the dumbfounded viola player on the back and excused himself, making a beeline for Ann.

  “How did you enjoy the music?” He stepped close and brushed her cheek with a brief kiss, the contact not nearly as satisfying as pulling her into his arms. But it would have to do in the full room with Nathalie standing there watching them.

  “It was wonderful.”

  She smiled up at him, no signs of the frown he’d seen earlier. He hunted her expression, just to be sure, but she seemed OK now.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” she said.

  “Thank you for coming. You ready to eat?”

  “Always.”

  Nathalie patted her arm again. “Have fun tonight. And don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  Ann sighed and nodded without saying more.

  Brody raised h
is brows in question, but neither woman elaborated and Semenov chose that moment to join them.

  They said their goodnights, then made their way to the street for a taxi.

  On their way to the restaurant, Brody debated bringing up the exchange between Ann and Nathalie. She’d looked upset, though as they talked on the way to the restaurant, she seemed comfortable and relaxed. He didn’t want to ruin that mood, but concern nagged at him.

  By the time they got to the restaurant—a different Mexican place with the second best food in the city that he’d tried so far—he’d mostly convinced himself to let it go and just enjoy the meal with her. If she wanted to tell him about it, she would.

  Watching her eat was almost as seductive as kissing her. He suspected there was something wrong with him, that he enjoyed the pleasure she took from food so much. He didn’t care. Ann Bell smiling was the best thing ever. Ann smiling and sighing over her food, better than that.

  “You and Nat seem to be getting closer,” he commented as he savored his chicken mole. “Must be interesting having a new sister you didn’t grow up with?”

  “She’s fantastic. I’m really glad we’re getting to know each other finally. My parents wouldn’t approve, but…” She made a little gesture with her fork before diving back into her fajita salad.

  “Why wouldn’t they approve?” he asked.

  She hadn’t told him a lot about her parents yet. The basics—her mother was a stay-at-home mom, her father a preacher, both very involved in the church. But he knew there was a lot more there after the vague hint Nat had dropped about being glad she didn’t look like her mother.

  “My mother left Nathalie’s father,” Ann said quietly. “She didn’t… She didn’t approve of their religion.”

  Ah. That explained the tension. It was common knowledge that Nathalie was a green witch, though he’d never had a chance to discuss her religion with her, as she was so private. He was curious and would have loved that conversation. But not everyone understood the neo-pagan religions. Too many people assumed devil worship even though Wiccans and other neo-pagans didn’t even believe in that devil. Since Ann’s mother had gone on to marry an evangelical preacher, Brody had to assume Mrs. Bell was one of those who saw the devil where there was none.