by Lily Harlem
What were the chances of walking in and him being one of only three players working on their moves? Just my rotten luck.
I remained frozen.
All that was going through my brain was he’d think I was here for him. To see him. To speak to him. And that was the last thing I wanted. I’d been trying to avoid him and make a break from whatever it was we had going on.
He pushed forward, whizzing my way, closing the distance between us with alarming speed.
I finally managed to get my traitorous body to move and twirled around, my heart clattering. I had to get out of there.
Shoving the door so hard it whacked up against the wall, I raced from the rink.
“Sophie!”
His deep voice rattled through my brain. I knew I should stop and speak to him but I didn’t trust myself not to be seduced by his charm again.
“Sophie, wait!”
Wait for what? To fall for him then have my heart broken when he moved on to the next conquest? Another blonde bombshell I could never compete with? No, thank you.
The door slammed shut, and I spotted a sign for the exit. Tightening the strap of my purse over my shoulder, I sped up to a jog.
Soon I was back outside. The air was still hot, despite it being late, and cicadas had set up their song in the bushes around the lot. The moon was full, and a silvery light spread before me, over the tarmac as I made for my car. I half expected Nathan to suddenly appear.
But he didn’t. Thank goodness skates took some time to remove.
I headed for home with the image of his face behind his helmet haunting me. He’d been surprised at first to see me, then a smile had tugged his lips.
I should never have gone to the stadium. Ben could have brought my torch to me.
It was too late. The damage was done.
After a microwave meal for one, I sat in front of the television in my lounge pants and a t-shirt.
Flicking through the channels, I came across a show about hockey. I tossed the remote aside and watched. The commentator was talking about The Islanders but quickly moved to The Vipers. An image of Nathan flashed up on the screen. First his face, wearing a helmet, and then a medley of shots of him on the ice scoring points.
“Jeez! I can’t get away from him!” I reached for the remote again and turned the television off.
The doorbell sounded.
I frowned, stood, then padded barefoot to the front door and pulled it open. “Ben!”
“Hey, Soph.” He stepped in and scooped me up into a hug.
I clung to him, my heart racing. “What are you doing here?”
“Get me a coffee and I’ll tell you.”
“Is everything okay? Lisa?”
“Yes, she’s fine.” He kept his arm over my shoulder as we walked to the kitchen. “There was a problem with her mother, though. She broke her hip in a fall at Winter Wonderland.”
“Oh no, is she all right?”
“They’ve operated, and she’s doing well. But Lisa couldn’t stand the thought of being so far away from her. She’s an only child, isn’t she? Responsibility weighs heavy.”
“Yes, I suppose that makes a difference, being an only one.”
“As soon as she heard the news she stopped enjoying herself,” Ben went on, “so I booked us a flight home.”
“You’re such a good husband.” I stared up at him. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
“I’m really here.” He reached for two mugs. “And I tried to call you, but your cell is off.”
“Er, yeah, sorry. I’ve been in surgery all day anyway.”
“Ah, okay.” He poured coffee. “So of course you’ll come to us on Christmas Day, right?”
“Are you still doing it? With Lisa’s mum in hospital?”
“Yes, of course. Gotta have a turkey.”
“Thank you; yes, I will.” Suddenly the thought of Christmas Day didn’t seem so bad.
Ben is home!
“And tomorrow,” he said. “We’re throwing a bit of a party. I’m trying to keep the honeymoon feeling going. Keep Lisa’s spirits up.”
“A party? Is Lisa okay with that? Hosting is a lot of work.”
“I’ve planned it so it’s not. She’ll spend the day with her mother, and I’ve got the caterers in, so all she’s got to do is put on her lipstick and enjoy herself.” He sipped his drink. “Come over about nine, dress to impress.” He laughed.
“I don’t know, I’ve got—”
“You have not got to be at the hospital at nine o’clock on Christmas Eve, Soph. I know your rota, and you’re not even on call until the twenty-eighth.”
“But if I’m coming to you on Christmas Day, you don’t want me there Christmas Eve as well.”
“Hey.” He stroked his hand over my hair. “I might be married now, but you’re still my twin, the person I shared a womb with, grew up with, and I’ll always want you there.”
“Thank you.” I paused. “For saying that.”
“Never doubt it.”
I slept better that night—no dreams of The Flash and his hot body doing even hotter things to mine—and rose just before midday on Christmas Eve. After a call to the hospital to check in with the senior nurse in intensive care and my interns, I threw open my wardrobe.
What to wear to Ben’s party?
I sifted past a black dress, a red blouse, and a flowery number I’d worn to a friend’s wedding a year ago. They were the only things that were vaguely party-ish, and I didn’t want to wear any of them. Okay, it was only a house party, and I’d probably spend most of the time catching up with Lisa in the kitchen but I still wanted to look nice.
There was only one thing for it—a trip to the mall. It was long overdue.
I grabbed my purse and slipped on a pair of comfy sneakers. A glance at my cell told me I had no missed calls from my would-be suitor. Thank goodness.
He’s finally given up.
Eight hours later, I stood at Ben’s and Lisa’s front door wearing an emerald green dress that was strapless, hugged my slight curves, and stopped just above my knees. The material was shiny and soft and worked well with my skin tone and brown bobbed hair. Teamed with a pair of silvery heels, dangling silver earrings, and matching green purse, I was pleased with my new party look.
It took a minute for Ben to come to the door. There was music playing fairly loud, and I had to knock twice. “Hey, sis, you look amazing,” he said as he pulled it open and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You invited a lot of people.” I gestured to the driveway full of cars and the road, also packed.
“If you’re going to throw a Christmas party, might as well do it properly.”
“That’s true.” I stepped inside.
The house was warm despite the air-con and smelled of cooking food. Elvis’s White Christmas was booming out, and guests, standing around, were talking loudly over the noise.
“Sophie.”
Lisa appeared before me and dragged me into a hug. “I’m so glad you could join us. Sorry for the short notice.”
“That’s not a problem at all.” I smiled and glanced around. There were quite a few people I didn’t recognize, though I did spot the Vipers’ coach, the one I’d sat next to a few evenings before. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother. How is she doing?”
“Much better. I’ve been with her most of the day. They’re getting her out of bed tomorrow. What a Christmas present, a new hip!”
“Yes, she’ll remember this one.” I took a glass of orange juice from a passing waiter holding a tray. “Thank you.”
‘Ben’s gone all out,” Lisa said. “He didn’t want me doing a thing. Caterers are cooking the food— only nibbles, not a sit-down meal—and as you can see, we have waiters.”
“It’s a good idea. After the long journey from Cape Town and the worry of your mum, you need to relax and enjoy yourself.”
“Which is what I intend to do.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Would you excuse me? Our new
neighbors have just arrived. I need to make a good impression and let them know we don’t have parties all the time.”
“Of course, go.”
I watched her flit off, her long hair swishing down her back. My new sister-in-law was a wonderful woman, and I adored her. She’d also made my brother a very happy man.
Ben was nowhere to be seen now, so I wandered farther into the house, hoping to find a familiar face. Surely Amanda and Richard were here. Perhaps they were in the snug. I’d go look there.
The snug door was shut. As I opened it and peered into the empty room there were footsteps behind me.
“Hey, sweetpea.”
Chapter Six
My heart lurched at the sound of a familiar deep voice. I turned. A drip of orange juice splashed onto my hand. I ignored it.
Nathan Walker stood before me wearing a white open-necked shirt and black jeans. As was his habit, his hands were shoved into the pockets of his denims and his feet set hip-width apart.
I gulped. “What are you doing here?” His sudden presence was a slap to my emotions.
“Taking up a friend on his kind invite to a Christmas party.”
“Ben asked you here?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t he? I told you, we’re mates.” He stepped closer, reached past me—his arm almost brushing my ear—and set his palm on the snug door. “Let’s go in here.” He pushed it wide. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t think so.” Damn it, I could smell his cologne, which was divine and reminded me of the kiss we’d shared.
“It wasn’t a request, Sophie, you owe me a couple of explanations.”
“For what?”
“Why were you at the stadium yesterday?”
“I’d forgotten something. I had to collect it from Ben’s office.”
“And you accidently stumbled into the rink?”
“Yes, the place is a labyrinth.”
“And your excuse for running off? Even though I know damn well you heard me call you. Why’d you do that?”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t begin to articulate why I’d run like a teenager having an emotional meltdown.
“Silence, great. Okay, onto the second explanation. Why are you ignoring my calls?
I pressed my lips together, knowing I was being childish but really just wanting the floor to open up and swallow me.
“We’d agreed to go on a second date.” His voice had softened. “How the hell is that gonna happen if you won’t communicate with me?”
“I don’t want to communicate with you. I thought maybe you’d get the hint that I don’t want a second date.”
He lowered his face to mine. “Hint. You really think I’m the kind of guy to give up so easily?”
“You’ll have to.”
“No. Not a chance.” He paused, and his eyeline sank down my body, hovering on my breasts and the slight flare of my hips. “When we kissed there was something special there, you must have felt it, too.” He set his attention on my eyes again. “And in the bar…I can’t remember ever enjoying someone’s company so much. You intrigue me. You’re so like me but not. I want to get to know you better, Sophie, and you made me think the feeling was mutual.”
My mouth was dry, my breaths coming quick. He was right, I did want to get to know him better, and his hot body, that I would seriously like to get to know better, but I had to protect my heart—and my sanity.
“What’d I do wrong?” he asked. “Have I got bad breath? You don’t like how I kiss, how I smell, the way I dress? Maybe I don’t look good in the shower.”
“No, no, of course not, none of that.” Why’d he have to bring up the shower? As if I wasn’t feeling flustered enough.
“So you’re saying you like how I kiss?” He raised his eyebrows. “And how I look in the shower?”
I sighed. “Okay, let’s take this conversation into the snug.”
His lips curled into a triumphant smile.
I glanced around, hoping Ben wasn’t about to see me slipping into his snug with the man he’d told me to steer clear of.
Luckily he wasn’t in sight; in fact, no one was. The snug was at the back of the house, and like most parties, guests had drifted toward the kitchen, which luckily was huge.
I stepped into the quiet room. It had a flat-screen TV on the wall, several bookshelves, a low burgundy sofa, and a small oak table which held a pile of medical journals.
Nathan shut the door with a soft click.
The silence was deafening, and I wrung my hands together and turned to him.
He folded his arms and puffed up his chest. It was clear he was waiting for me to start.
“You never told me you were married,” I said.
“I’m not.”
“In the past tense, you never told me that you were married.”
“And why would I on a first date? It was hardly the marriage of the century.”
“Why did you split up?”
“Sophie.” He stepped up to me. “Is that why you refused to take my calls? Because I have a past?”
“Not just a past, there’s also a present, but we’ll come to that in a minute.”
“Present?” He frowned and shook his head. “And you don’t have a history, past relationships?”
“No, not really.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I’m too damn busy.”
“Ah, I can see how that could happen with you.” He walked over to the sofa and sat. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees and looked up at me. He pulled in a deep breath then blew it out. “I was married for a month and one day.”
“Really? Why such a short time?”
“Wendy, that’s her name, decided she liked my best friend from college better than me. I came home on the thirty-second day of our marriage and caught them in bed together. I haven’t spoken to either of them since. The lawyers handled everything.”
A streak of pain crossed his eyes. I only just spotted it before he hung his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry. See, that’s why I didn’t tell you. It’s pretty damn humiliating, and the last thing I wanted was for you to feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t.”
He looked up at me again.
I bit my lip, then, “I mean, I’m sorry that it happened. But I don’t feel sorry for you.”
“Good. I don’t need pity.”
“And this was recent?”
“Five months ago. The divorce is through. Money expedites things.”
I nodded and walked to the window. The curtains were open, and I stared out at the side lawn cast in shadows. Images of all the other women in the article flashed through my mind.
“Sophie.” I sensed him standing then saw his reflection behind mine. “What did you mean by present?”
I sighed. I didn’t really want to confess I’d Googled him. It seemed a bit stalkerish, but he deserved the truth about why I’d done what I had, plus telling the truth wasn’t something I usually hid from, no matter how hard. “There’s the blonde with the red dress, the one you went to the charity ball with, Rachel someone or other.” I turned, wanting to see his face when I listed his string of women. “And—”
“Rachel?” he interrupted then paused. “Yeah, she’s a friend, she also has a very rich father who pays off her credit card each month. Taking her as my plus one was good for the charity. She spent a lot of money on Viper memorabilia. But I’m not dating her, and I haven’t seen her since that night.”
I frowned. “Okay, what about that actress, Naomi Teller? You’re dating her, right?”
“Dating Naomi?” He shook his head. “Where are you getting this from?”
It was my turn to glance away.
“Sophie.” He gently crooked his finger beneath my chin and turned me to face him again. “Talk to me. Let’s sort this out.”
“I…I looked you up, on the web.”
“You did?” He released my chin and ran his hand over his hair. �
��I guess that explains everything.”
“It’s left you with some explaining to do. You really think I want to date a man who’s currently linked to so many other women?” I put my hands on my hips then dropped them to my sides, not wanting to appear like a strict school marm.
His eyebrows pulled low. “I am?” He shook his head. “I mean I’m not…dating any other woman.”
I waited for him to continue.
He pulled out his cell. “You just put my name into Google, right?”
“Yes.” I wasn’t particularly proud that I had.
“Okay.” He tapped the screen a few times then flashed it my way so I could see the search results. “Which article did you read?”
“The Huffington Post.” I turned back to the window. The evidence was there; I couldn’t see how he could dispute it.
He was quiet for a moment, his head bowed as he read the article.
My pulse thudded in my ears, and I linked my fingers together, squeezing my knuckles so tight they hurt.
He stepped up to me and held the phone so we could both see the screen. “Okay, so this is Rachel, the one you’ve got your panties in a twist about, right?”
“I have not got my panties in a—”
“Rachel is a friend, nothing more, I told you that. Naomi is also a friend. We did a Nike commercial together a few years ago, realized we had a lot in common, and stayed in touch. We went for dinner after my divorce because I needed someone to talk to. She’s currently dating a Hollywood A-lister, but that’s top secret.” He scrolled down the screen. “This picture they’ve dug up is of Wendy, my ex.”
“Okay.” I swallowed. I believed him about Naomi and Rachel, and it was clear his ex was no longer on the scene. “But who is this pretty brunette, at the stadium?”
“Jeez.” He chuckled. “It would be more than my life is worth to make a move on that one.”
“Why?”
“She belongs to Rick Lewis, the team captain. I can stand up to most guys, but he’d scare the shit out of me if he decided to take a swing. And if he thought I had intentions with Dana, yeah, he’d take a swing.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Must have been some pap in the stadium lot. I haven’t seen it before.” He turned to me and rested his hand on my shoulder. “This is fake news, Sophie. I wish you hadn’t bothered to read it.”