Jaci Burton - Melting the Ice

“Actually, I’ve never been dumped.”

Trick let out a snort. “Every guy has been kicked to the curb at least once. You either didn’t recognize it or didn’t care. And now you have, and you do care, so you don’t know what the hell to do. Like now, with the hot brunette.”

“Her name is Carolina.”

“That’s right. Carolina. So Carolina dumped you.”

Maybe she had. He’d never been with a woman he liked enough to care whether she wanted to see him again or not. He searched his memory to try and remember if any of the women he’d dated in the past had ever given him any signals about not wanting to see him again.

Maybe there had been a few in his past, and he just hadn’t read the signals. Nothing like being self-aware.

But with Carolina, he had no idea. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, Trick. With the road trip, I haven’t had a chance to talk to her. But she does want to see me. She left me a voice mail.”

“That’s a good sign then, right?”

“It’s about the modeling thing for her fashion line.”

“Oh.” Trick slapped him on the back. “Start there. If you like her, it at least puts you in front of her.”

“I guess. I don’t know. Women are a lot of work.”

Trick stood and grinned. “But so much fun to play with.”

CAROLINA FINISHED UP SOME PAPERWORK AND LOOKED at her phone, answering a few text messages and emails.

She cleared several off her phone, leaving the one she’d gotten from Drew three days ago.

Out-of-town games. Back on Friday. Will call you.

Terse. Noncommittal. And decidedly not warm or friendly.

Then again, she hadn’t exactly told him she’d missed him in her voice mail, or that she’d had a great time that night they’d spent together. Her voice mail had been cool and professional. So what had she expected in return?

She set her phone aside and went back to her paperwork, wrinkling her nose at the prospect. Design was fun. It fired her blood and fueled her excitement. The accounting and paperwork and everything else that went into starting up her business? Not so much fun. She had accountants and lawyers to handle the finances and legalities, but she was the CEO of Carolina Designs, and as such, it was up to her to go over every detail, including the drudge work she didn’t enjoy.

After two hours of poring over numbers, she was satisfied they were on track.

Her phone buzzed.

Drew.

She picked it up and pushed the button.

“Hi, Drew.”

“Hey, yourself. How’s it going?”

“Busy. How about you?”

“Finally back in town.”

“Away games?”

“So, you haven’t been watching?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been a little distracted lately. How did it go?”

“Buzz me up and I’ll tell you.”

“You’re downstairs?”

“Yeah.”

She rolled her eyes and headed to the door. “What if I hadn’t been here?” She pressed the buzzer.

“Then I’d have gone out to dinner alone. Hanging up now.”

And now he expected her to just drop everything and go to dinner with him? That was ballsy. And more than a little annoying.

She opened the door and waited for him to show up, which he did a minute later, looking gorgeous as always in relaxed jeans and a navy blue peacoat. He even wore a scarf. Damn, but the man was infuriating, attractive as hell and even worse, he dressed well.

Other than his arrogant attitude, she had nothing to pick apart.

He stepped in and looked around, zeroing in on her coffee table. “Paperwork explosion?”

“Something like that. Would you like to take your coat off?”

“No. I’m starving. I thought maybe you’d want to get dinner.”

“I’m kind of busy. And it’s eight thirty.”

His lips curved. “You’re always busy. So you ate already?”

“I did. Hours ago.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just go grab something.”

“No. Don’t leave. I can fix you something.” He was here and she didn’t want him to leave. She wanted to get him in her clothes and back out of her apartment again.

He cocked a brow. “You cook?”

“I cook.”

“Great.” He took off his coat and hung it up, then followed her into the kitchen.

“What would you like?”

“I don’t know. How about some eggs?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I hate eggs. I don’t even keep them in the house.”

“That’s like . . . un-American, Carolina. Everyone likes eggs.”

“No, everyone doesn’t. I don’t.”

“Fine. What do you have?”

“How about some chicken? I made it for dinner and have some left.”

“That’ll work.”

She took out the chicken and rice she’d baked earlier and warmed it in the microwave.

“Something to drink?”

“Water would be fine.”

He made his way into the kitchen and came up beside her as she prepped the plate.

“This looks good. Thanks for fixing it for me.”

“It’s no trouble.”

She sat at the table with him while he ate. Or, rather, while he wolfed down the meal in what seemed like less than five minutes.

“Hungry?” she asked.

He laid down his fork and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Starving. It was a long flight and they don’t feed you shit on the plane.” He took the plate to the sink, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. “Thank you again for this. I feel human again.”

“You’re welcome.”

He downed the glass of water and refilled it, then came back to sit next to her at the table.

“How was your road trip?”

“Long. Painful. We lost three games. It sucked.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s over. We’ll regroup. And we have several home games now. That’ll help.”

“Will it?”

“Yeah. The home crowd always motivates us to do better.”

“I hope so.”

“You should come to a game or two.”

She leaned back in the chair. “And you think that would help you win?”

“I know it would.”

She laughed. “I doubt that, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Bring Stella. I’m sure she’d like to see a game.”

“That’s probably true, but she’s busy getting ready for a show. I’ll check with her and see if she’s available.”

He looked around her apartment. “How’s the work going?”

“Good. I’ve gotten a lot done, which was why I called you. I’d like you to try on a few things.”

“Okay.” He pushed back the chair and stood. “Where do you want me?”

She tilted her head back and looked at him. Ridiculously, her first thought in response to that question was, in her bed.

She shook that off and stood. “We need to head over to my work studio. That’s where all the clothes are.”

“All right.”

They put on their coats and headed downstairs to hail a taxi. It was a brisk night, cloudy and overcast, with the threat of freezing rain forecast. Carolina was cold and the taxi’s heater wasn’t exactly in working order. She shivered.

“You cold?” Drew asked.

“A little.”

“Come over here.” He pulled her over and put his arm around her.

She wanted to resist, wanted to keep that line of distance and professionalism between them, but who was she kidding? She was freezing, and Drew’s body was warm. She snuggled in closer.

“Better?” he asked, putting his other arm around the front of her.

“Much. Thank you.”

As soon as the chill wore off, they arrived at the building.

Damn. She dug into her purse to pay the driver, but Drew had already taken out his wallet.

“Please let me pay. I’m asking you to do this for me.”

He gave her a look. “Are we going to have this conversation again?”

The driver gave them an exasperated stare, as if he wanted them out of his cab so he could go grab his next fare.

“Apparently not.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

She shook her head and dug for her keys to enter the building, then led Drew onto the elevator to the tenth floor where her studio was located.

She flipped on the lights.

“Wow,” Drew said as he made his way inside. “You have a lot of space here.”

“I need it for all the work we do.” She slipped off her coat and wandered the room, turning on lights and heading toward the racks of clothes.

She studied him, then the clothing, already deciding the more formal wear was out. Suits just didn’t, well, suit his physique. She went to the rack and started pulling clothes.

“This one. Definitely this. I want to see you in these pants and this shirt.” She started throwing clothes on the table, then stopped and stared at him. “Don’t just stand there. Strip.”

“I love when a woman talks dirty.”

She rolled her eyes and went back to the rack. When she turned around, Drew was pulling off his shirt. Her gaze may have lingered a bit on his abs while his shirt covered his head.

And she might have sighed in pure feminine appreciation.

He flipped the button on his jeans, and she found herself staring. She caught the curve of his lips.

“Are you sure we’re just trying on clothes, or is this some nefarious plan to get me naked so you can sex me up on your worktable?”

As soon as he’d said it, visuals of climbing on top of him and riding him on her oversize worktable filled her mind.

“Of course not.”

“Good. Because I’d like to bend you over that window seat and take you from behind.”

Her gaze immediately shot to the window. “Seriously? At the window? Where people could see us?”

“Come on, Lina. Living dangerously is half the fun.”

She could already feel him behind her, pounding into her while she planted her hands on the window seat, wondering who’d be looking in from outside.

Heat flared through her body. She pushed it aside.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Too bad. Just the thought of it made my dick hard.”

He shrugged out of his jeans, his erection very evident against his boxer briefs.

“Well . . . unharden it.”

He laughed. “Kind of difficult since it’s all I can think about now.”

It was all she could think about, too, damn him. She made an about-turn. “I’m going to get clothes. You work on that problem.”

“So, you want to watch me jack off?”

She pivoted in a hurry. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Your cheeks are pink. I’ll bet you’d like to see that.”

“Dammit, Drew, I didn’t bring you here to have sex with you. Now get serious about this.”

“Oh, I’m very serious, Lina.”

She stared at him—at his face this time, to let him know just how not funny she thought he was being.

“Okay, fine.” He stared at the ceiling.

“Now what are you doing?”

“Counting ceiling tiles.”

She tapped her foot and waited, trying not to stare at his cock. It took about a minute, but he finally nodded. “Okay, let’s play dress-up.”

She took the first outfit out of the garment bag. She’d chosen a pair of workout pants and a tight-fitting T-shirt. He put them on.

“Shoes?”

“I have some. Hang on.” She started into the other room, then stopped. “Oh, I need your size.”

He told her, then she dashed in and came out with shoes. He put them on.

“Now, walk,” she said.

“Walk, where?”

“Back and forth, like you’d be walking on the runway.”

“How?”

Of course. He was a guy and had likely never seen a fashion show. “Like this.” She demonstrated, walking the length of the room, pivoting, then walking back.

He smiled. “You have a great ass.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now you do the same.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to walk all girlie.”

“I don’t. I expect you to walk like a man.”

He slid his hand into the pocket and took a stroll.

God, he was a natural. Some models took years to perfect a walk like that. Drew took seconds to head down the room, stop, turn, and head back.

Women would be falling at his feet.

And even better, the outfit looked magnificent on him. He was tall, lean, with chiseled looks that would serve him well on the runway.

Or in a magazine.

Or on a billboard.

He was perfect for her line.

“How did I do?”

“Great. Stand there for a second.” She ran and grabbed her notebook and took a photo of him in the clothes. “Now put this set on.” She handed him the next outfit. He undressed, put it on, and did the same walk. She made notes and took photos while he tried on six different outfits.