Jaci Burton - Melting the Ice

“Then think how productive you’ll be tomorrow after some rest.”

She laughed. “You might be right about that. I’ve been working nonstop for months.”

“You needed a night off, then. Too much work muddles the brain cells and you can’t think clearly.”

“I did get some sketches drawn during your game.”

“Yeah? Can I see them?”

He read the hesitation on her face.

“Oh. I don’t know.”

“Are they secret sketches?”

“Not really. They’re just difficult to explain.”

He gave her a look. “So, you think I’m an idiot.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He held out his hand. “Then let me see them.”

“Fine.” She dug her sketchbook out of her bag and flipped to a page, then handed it to him.

He looked at them, stunned by her talent as he reviewed the pages she’d drawn of him and some of the other players. She’d caught everything about the game and the players. The speed, the intensity in their expressions. He could feel the action and the emotion on these pages. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Wow, Carolina. These are really good. I had no idea you had talent like this.”

He saw the blush creep across her cheeks as he handed the sketchbook back to her.

“I had to do them fast. They’re just messy drawings.”

“No, they’re . . . amazing. You captured the fast pace and passion of hockey like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“What I really wanted to do was show how you all move.”

“I’d say you did that perfectly.”

Their waiter showed up. Carolina deferred, so Drew ordered a bottle of wine for them.

“What’s your intent in doing the drawings? Obviously you’re not looking to design hockey uniforms.”

She let out a short laugh. “Uh, no. But I am thinking about sports when I design for men. How to take movement into consideration. And comfort. Men don’t like to feel restricted or weighed down in clothing. You want to feel comfortable, even in”—she looked around and leaned forward—“underwear.”

“So you’re going to create a line of men’s underwear, too?”

“Yes.” Her lips tipped upward at the corners. “How do you feel about modeling underwear?”

He shrugged. “I feel fine about it, but how do you know I’ve got the goods to do it? Maybe you want to use some dude who does that for a living.”

“I suppose you have a point. I’d have to . . . see your body again.”

He smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She rolled her eyes. “Look. You’re going to have to be a professional about this if we’re going to work together.”

“Hey, I can get naked and not think about having sex with you. Maybe.”

“Can you?”

“I’m not twelve, babe.”

“Or twenty-two, drunk, and unable to remember my name?”

He leveled a not-quite-happy look at her. “I knew exactly who I was sleeping with that night.”

“Maybe you did. It was the day after you forgot who I was.”

“Yeah, I screwed up big-time that night, and the day after. I could give you a lifetime of I’m sorry’s, but that can’t change what happened or the fact I treated you like shit afterward. But I’ll still say it, as many times as you need to hear it—I’m sorry, Carolina.”

THEIR WAITER BROUGHT THE WINE, AND TOOK THEIR food order, so Carolina didn’t have time to respond to Drew’s apology. Probably a good thing, since she had no idea what to say to him.

She’d waited years for that apology, had played over and over in her head what she’d say to him if he ever said he was sorry.

She’d planned to throw his apology back in his face. She’d tell him she’d cried over and over again for months after he walked out on her and never called her. She’d felt worthless and used and in love with someone who obviously felt nothing for her.

But that was the twenty-year-old, brokenhearted Carolina who’d had all those feelings.

Drew had never once made any promises to her that night, and all her feelings had been just that—her feelings—the ones of a very young girl who’d wrapped all her hopes and dreams in fantasy, none of which had been his fault. She’d known he was leaving campus, that he had a promising career ahead of him with a hockey team. Instead, she’d manufactured some love story in her head that had nothing to do with reality.

Which, again, hadn’t been his fault at all. It had taken her a long time to come to grips with that. But she’d moved on, finished college, and had become an adult. She’d had other relationships and had shoved Drew into a drawer of the past.

Sometimes love taught very painful lessons, but she’d long ago decided she wasn’t equipped for that whole falling in love thing.

“Apology accepted. I’m sorry I brought it up—again.”

He took her hand. “You’re entitled to bring it up as many times as you want to. I was a jerk that night. And a lot before that. I didn’t notice you when I should have.”

He wasn’t making this any easier. “You weren’t supposed to do anything other than be who you were. I was the one who threw myself at you.”

He smiled at her. “You did. Thanks for that. It was good for my ego.”

“As if your ego needed any more stroking. You had girls lining up to crawl into bed with you all through college. For as long as I can remember, you were the hot stud every girl wanted to get with. And you were oblivious to most of them, or you strung them along, choosing the best ones and discarding the less attractive ones.”

“Ouch. Was I really that bad?”

“Yes. You were really that bad. As far as I know, you might still be.”

“Trust me. The only thing keeping me busy these days is hockey.”

“Uh-huh. Somehow I find that difficult to believe. A leopard doesn’t change its spots, Drew. And you haven’t suddenly become a monk.”

“Okay, maybe not. But I’m an adult now, and chasing after women like there’s no tomorrow isn’t high on my priority list anymore.”

She wasn’t sure she bought his reformed-bad-boy speech, but as they ate dinner, she noticed he focused only on her, despite several very attractive women trying to get his attention. Okay, points for him on that one. She’d been out on dates with plenty of men who had a roving eye, who seemed to think that they’d been placed on earth to have women service them.

Generally, those were the one-date-only types. A man who couldn’t pay attention to her for the duration of a date didn’t deserve her, and the one thing she’d learned over the years was that she deserved to have a man who wanted her—really wanted her.

Maybe she had Drew to thank for that, since she’d endured a lot of misery because of him, and she’d grown up during those months she’d spent crying over him and mourning the loss of her fantasies about love and happily ever after.

“You’re quiet over there.”

She lifted her gaze to find him staring at her. “Just enjoying my dinner.”

“The steak is that good?”

“You wouldn’t have brought me here if it wasn’t, isn’t that right?”

The waiter took their plates and Drew leaned back in the chair. “Right. So you’ve had some wine, and you’ve been fed. Feeling better now?”

“I was feeling fine before.”

“No you weren’t. You wanted to rush home and do something about those sketches you made during the game.”

“Maybe.”

“Now your face is flushed and you don’t seem as . . . frenetic.”

“Oh, you know big words.”

His lips curved and she watched them as he finished off his glass of wine. “Yeah. I went to college, you know. Got a degree and everything.”

“So I heard. And what have you done with that degree in business you got? Anything useful?”

“Nah. Just pissing the money away on booze and women.”

She didn’t believe that, but then again, what did she really know about what Drew had been doing with his life in the years since he’d left college?

“Seriously?”

He gave her a slanted smile. “Sure. I’m single and carefree. What else am I going to do with the money?”

“I don’t know. Invest it. Give some of it back to your community, to those less fortunate.”

“Now you sound like your dad.”

“And that’s a problem? What’s wrong with my father?”

“Nothing. He’s a great guy. Smart. Successful. Vice president of the United States and everything. And he likes hockey. What’s not to like about him?”

“You didn’t mention his politics.”

“I make a point to never mention politics.”

“Why? Afraid you can’t handle political talk?”

He leaned forward. “Are you baiting me, Ms. Preston?”

“Not at all. I’m just curious about what you do like to talk about.”

“That’s easy. Hockey. And sex.”

Now this was the Drew she remembered, the one who teased her and did his best to irritate her.

It was working.

She rolled her eyes. “Amazingly enough, two of my least favorite subjects.”

“I know you’re lying about the hockey part. I saw how excited you got watching the game. So, you don’t like sex?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I think you just did.”

She should have just gone home after the game. Despite his apology, Drew was obviously only interested in annoying her. He hadn’t changed all that much in the years since college. “I think it’s time I leave.”

He laughed. “You never could handle a good argument, Carolina. And I thought as a politician’s daughter, you’d be one to hang in there for at least a little longer.” He waved to the waiter, who asked if they wanted coffee and dessert. When Drew looked at Carolina, she shot him a glare.

“Guess not, Daniel. We’ll just take the bill.”