“She wasn’t very loyal to you.”
“She has no reason to be. But she’s loyal to her friends—especially Brantley Kincaid. They were in the crib together.” She took a deep breath. “I used to date Brantley.”
“The one you kissed?” Thor narrowed his eyes and his swollen lip jutted out a little more.
She nodded. “The one I mis-kissed. But I was pretty awful to him.”
“And do you still want him—this Brantley Kincaid?” The tone he used when he said Brantley’s name might have been appropriate for Charles Manson. She took some pleasure in that.
“No. I don’t think I ever wanted him. I just wanted to own him—and he wouldn’t be owned. At least not by me. Lucy might own him. Sure seemed that way.”
“Are you jealous of that Lucy? Did you come to The Big Skate tonight because you knew he would be here?”
For crying out loud. “No! I didn’t know they’d be here. Believe me, that Merritt, Alabama crew is at the bottom of the list of people I want to see—right after Jack the Ripper and Jeffrey Dahmer.”
He laughed—just a little. “Those people are dead.”
“Exactly.”
“Then why did you come to The Big Skate tonight?”
She held up her bag. “To buy shirts and coffee mugs.”
“I repeat, why did you come to The Big Skate tonight?”
I wanted to see you. “Because my daddy told me not to.”
He stepped a step closer. “It that right? Are you in the habit of defying Pickens?”
She lifted her chin. “Are you?”
He closed his eyes and seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“My car is in the parking deck at Star View Towers. I walked here.”
He frowned. “You walked? You shouldn’t be walking alone at night.”
“I could have skated, if it was icy.”
“Can you skate?” He started walking toward Star View Towers, nudging her along beside him.
“Of course I can skate. My father was a hockey player—not much of one, he says. But we skated. Why are you surprised?”
“Most Southern girls can’t. Maybe you aren’t so Southern.”
She laughed. “I’m Southern. I can talk football and bourbon. I’ve got pearls and a charm bracelet. I can make passable pimento cheese and fry a chicken.”
He laughed low like he meant it. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a cook. Can you make biscuits?”
“I can buy biscuits. Those frozen Mary B’s are hard to beat.”
“I do not know this Mary B.”
Just then, they reached the end of the block. “There are only two blocks left,” Tradd said. “You don’t have to walk me all the way home. The street is well lit. There are people about.”
The traffic light turned, and he took her arm and stepped off the curb. “It’s the people about that worry me.”
“Aren’t you afraid someone will see us together and tell Pickens?” Tradd asked.
“Afraid is a strong word. I would prefer that he not find out. My contract is up this year. He has agreed to sign me for one more year if he keeps the team and to put in a good word with the new owner if he sells.”
This surprised her. “Just one?”
He nodded. “I only want to play one more season. It’s time. I’m not what I was. The aches and pains are more frequent. No one can tell that yet except me. I want to retire before my game suffers.”
“Then why another year?” she asked. “Why not retire now?”
He sighed and looked at the stars like there were answers there. “It will perhaps sound silly to you, but I want twenty years in the NHL. Years from now, I want that by my name. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it’s important to me.” Hockey was his only legacy. He wanted it to be solid. Regardless of the stats, the awards, the trophies, the medals, he wanted that twenty years.
He looked at her and she read his expression perfectly. He thought she would scoff.
“Actually,” she said slowly, “I do understand. I wasn’t always serious about building my career. I played with it seriously at turns, but then I would get distracted. One step forward and two back. But that changed.”
Thor stopped. He had not let go of her arm after they’d crossed the street. “What caused the change?”
“A realization, I guess. You know, when you’re a kid, there are all kinds of possibilities—things you can be. Cheerleader, astronaut, Olympic figure skater, president of the United States. Then as you get older, you realize there are things you are not going to be. I don’t want this to be another one of those things.”
Thor widened his eyes. “I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t. I’m sure Daddy has spent many words telling you how I was chasing a foolish dream, one that I wasn’t even serious about. And that’s fair. But I had to face some facts a while back. Brantley Kincaid threw me out of his house, and I realized I can’t have everything I want just because I want it.”
Thor’s nostrils flared. “He threw you out? Threw you?” He let go of her arm and turned around. “I will go back there and kick his ass! A man does not raise his hands to a woman!”
Hell in a hand basket. She took hold of his arm. “Whoa, Viking hit man. He did not put his hands on me. Brantley is a good guy—too good for who I was back then. He asked me to leave—insisted I leave, but verbally. And he should have done it sooner.”
Truth be told, Thor looked a little disappointed. “What did you do that was so bad? Did you cheat on him?”
Tradd began walking again. Best to put more distance between Thor and The Big Skate where, by now, Brantley would be eating his chili cheese fries.
“No. I didn’t cheat.” But don’t give me too much credit. That would have required me to want to have sex with someone else. I didn’t. Of course, I didn’t want to have sex with Brantley either. It wasn’t like with you. Her nipples tightened and her face got hot at the memory. “No. I didn’t cheat on him, nor did I murder his family members or kick his dog. But I whined, demanded, threw fits, and—as I am sure you overheard—broke his possessions on a regular basis.”
“I would not have been able to imagine that, except I recall the sound of breaking crystal on the wall beside my head.”
“Yes, well. I’m trying to reform. My mother has some of that crystal. I could steal one to replace what I broke. She’d never miss it.”
“That’s all right. Perhaps I should send mine to Mary Lou. I don’t use it.”
“She’d be ecstatic.”
“Tell me more about how bad you were to this man.”
“I lost count of the times I broke up with Brantley just for the hell of it. Finally, I threw a taco at him in a restaurant because he wouldn’t pick up and take me to Paris for the weekend.”
Thor’s face went blank, and then he began to laugh. “You threw a taco?”
She nodded. “Hit him right in the head. It was a waste of a good taco. That taco was no good to anybody after that. I still remember all too well what Brantley said to me. ‘Rita May—’”
By now they were at the entrance of Star View Towers.
“Wait.” Thor put a hand up. “You were in a relationship with this guy and he called you by your stage name?”
Damn. Why had she had to reveal that? “Yes. I was very concerned with my branding back then. I thought Rita May sounded more like a country singer. I wouldn’t let him call me by my real name.”
Thor nodded but didn’t say anything. Maybe not being called by his real name struck a chord with him.
“Anyway,” she went on, “he said, ‘Rita May, I know how it’s gotten to be kind of our trademark for me to offend you in some way and then for you to throw something at me. And then I apologize for the offending and you apologize for the throwing and for destroying my property. Then we go shopping to replace whatever it is you broke, which I pay for. But now you have hit me with a taco in a public place, and I am shutting this freak show d
own.’ And it was a freak show. Then he walked out on me and I hit him in the back with a chip basket.” Brantley had also referenced them having makeup sex, but she chose to leave that out.
“Sounds like a bad time,” Thor said. “Why did you keep going back?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to win. I wanted him to pick me over Missy. I told myself that Missy would hate anyone he dated, but that’s not true. In the beginning she was nice to me. She hated me because I was a bitch to him. And she is clearly thick as thieves with his wife now—going to hockey games, sharing babysitters.”
“And you didn’t want that—that closeness, the being part of group?”
Had she? “I don’t know what I wanted back then, but I’m glad I didn’t get it. I like this life.” Though wouldn’t it be nice to have a comfortable place to belong?
He nodded. “I know what you mean, but sometimes I think, what next?”
That wasn’t a hard question for her. She knew what was next: diapers, breastfeeding, hell from Pickens and Mary Lou, and probably the end of her career. You couldn’t disappear when you were just getting started. She’d learned that much. And who knew how country music fans would take her single mother status? It didn’t matter much in Hollywood, but look what happened to the Dixie Chicks for expressing their political views. And she was nowhere near the stars they had been. And then there was Thor. Or Lars. Maybe she ought to call him Lars.
“Tradd?” Lars interrupted her thoughts—and apparently became Lars in her head. Maybe if they had a girl, they would name her Laura—if they did the naming. Could just be her—Tradd/Rita May—naming babies and such. “Where did you go?”
Well, Lars, I went to Babyland. You know that place? You gave me the ticket. To go there, I had to leave the place where I was finally willing to work for what I wanted.
“Go? I didn’t go anywhere. I’m right here with you.”
Something changed in his face. “Are you?” He cocked his head to the side and took a step closer to her.
Was it her destiny to be that women at the grocery store wearing designer sunglasses, leggings, and a print tunic to hide the extra ten pounds, loading her buggy with juice boxes, peanut butter-flavored cereal, and Gatorade for the soccer field—or maybe hockey rink? Is that who she would be? Of all the things she had imagined lately, all the fantasies good and bad, she’d never seen him as part of it. But here he was, asking if she was with him.
“I am,” she answered, because it was true for this moment.
He placed a hand on her neck and she leaned into him. “I want to kiss you,” he said, “right here on the street.”
She wanted that, too, though it wasn’t likely to happen with his swollen injured mouth. But she wanted an intimate touch and—even more—she wanted where that touch would lead. Her stomach turned over, but she would make light and give him an out.
“More than you want your twentieth year in the NHL?”
“Yah. At the moment.”
He leaned in, but she put her hand on his chest to stop him. “Moments pass. Besides, your mouth is a mess. It has to hurt.”
“Forgot about that.” He touched his mouth and winced. “Still …” He brushed her collarbone with his thumb. Ah. There was the intimate touch. She dropped her head to capture his thumb against her neck, and every hair on her body stood on end.
Why waste time? “We could stand here and say all those trite things about how we shouldn’t do this, or we could just go up.”
He dropped his lids. “I assume, since this is your place, I won’t wake up to find you gone, like before.”
“You never know.” But she liked that it had bothered him.
Tradd crossed the lobby, careful not to make eye contact with the concierge, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed. The staff here was discreet but, at the end of the day, Pickens owned the condo.
At the elevator, she punched in her security code, saying the numbers aloud as she went.
“What floor?” Lars let his hand linger in front of the keypad.
“Fourteen. You’ll need another code, since the whole floor is mine. 8716.”
“Ah.” Lars said. “Pickens bought Emile’s old condo. I remember now.”
Tradd almost explained that she didn’t have to live there, that she had money of her own. But why bother? She was likely on her way to a second night stand, so what did it matter if he thought she was spoiled? Really, what did it matter if she was?
Once inside, Lars looked around. “You redecorated.”
“Mary Lou did.” The living room had been planned around the baby grand piano and was done in a soothing blue and yellow palette. The upholstered furniture was big, plush, and comfortable.
“Much better. Emile has excellent hockey skills. Not so much for the decorating.” He took a step closer to her and lifted her chin.
“I wouldn’t know. I never saw it. Is it as bad as your house?”
He smiled. “Not so bad as that. But what is?” He started to lower his mouth to hers but stopped. “My mouth isn’t going to be much good.”
That was a shame. The memory of his mouth on her made her shudder.
“But maybe I can make up in other ways.” He placed his hand on her breast. “Lovely.”
The sight of his hand there brought the slow smolder in the pit of her stomach to a flame.
“Ah.” He gently squeezed. “I felt your nipple go hard. That makes me happy. I thought so many times about your soft breasts, and how your little, pink nipples went rock hard and rosy in my mouth. I’m sorry I can’t do that with my mouth hurt. I know you liked it, know how lightning shot from here”—he squeezed her again—“to here.” His hand trailed down to her crotch.
And lightning struck. She moaned and leaned into him.
“You’re wrong. Your mouth isn’t useless. The words coming out of it are pretty inspiring.”
He drew her closer to him and laughed in her ear. “You like this kind of talk? You want to hear how my balls ache and my cock throbs for you? How it wants to be deep inside you so much?”
Her stomach turned over and her knees went weak, causing her to press her pelvis against the cock in question. He lifted her bottom and pressed against the sweet spot.
“Oh, my sweet Swede, Lars! Do they sell the likes of you at Ikea?”
He laughed. “Maybe. With much assembly required. I can’t wait to get you naked, to feel you against me.”
“Why wait?” She loosened his tie. “The bedroom is close by.”
“Why wait that long? There’s a couch as big as a bed.” And he started to strip her.
Chapter Ten
Whether he ought to be here with Tradd was not debatable. Thor knew he absolutely should not be—and he did not care. He hadn’t cared even before she was naked and she’d called him Lars.
He didn’t know which was better.
Now they were skin on skin wrapped around each other on a couch that had been designed for having sex. She pressed against him and kissed the hollow of his neck.
Ah. Now he knew which was better. Naked—naked was definitely better, but it had been sweet being called by his real name. He hadn’t even known it mattered to him.
He half sat up, leaned against the couch arm, and reached for Tradd. “This couch was built for giants.”
She gave him a wicked little smile. “Built for you.” And she stroked his erection.
He groaned. “I’ve wanted you so much, thought about it every day this year.”
“Have you?” She lightly feathered her fingers on the underside of his shaft and then circled the head with her thumb. “Is this good?”
“You know it is. It wouldn’t be jerking against your hand if it wasn’t.” He reached for her hands. “Here. Come to me. Straddle me. Ah, yes. Lean into me. I want feel your skin against my cock and see your breasts when I stroke them.”
She let out a ragged breath and her eyes went smoky. She was clearly turned on by this sexy talk, and that stirred his blood and carrie
d him to a new level of want. He covered her breasts with his hands. Were they a little fuller than the last time he’d held them? He lifted and pressed.
“I’ve thought about this …” She closed her eyes and shuddered.
“So have I. Every hour of this year. Do you want to hear what I thought? What I remember?”
She opened her eyes and gave him an exaggerated sultry look. “Yes, I do. Talk dirty to me.” They laughed together quietly. And she lightly kissed the corner of his mouth on the unhurt side.
“Talk dirty to you? Hmm.” He rolled his penis against her. “Do you feel how much I want you? How I am throbbing against your belly? Do you?”
“Yes, oh, yes.” She shifted so that it wasn’t her belly he was throbbing against now.
“Ah, you want to feel it there, like before. I tried but I couldn’t forget how wet you were, how hot … and tight you were when I was deep inside you, pumping, pumping, pumping.”
She slammed her pelvis harder against him. “I need it.”
He grasped her hips and moved slow and hard between her thighs. “Need what, älskling? I want to hear you say it, like you wanted to hear me say it. It turns me on, too.”
“I want to … to feel … you—your cock, deep inside.”
“Now?” Please, let it be now.
“Yes. Now. Please.” She started to roll to her side.
“No.” He placed a hand on either side of her waist and lifted her. “Up you go. I want you like this. I want to see your breasts. That’s right.” He grasped his penis and guided it to her opening. “Lower yourself onto me. Yes. All the way. So good.”
“It’s very deep.” She moved and moaned with each stroke. “Even better than I remember.”
“Better?” He took a nipple between each thumb and index finger. “I can’t suck them, but I want to stroke you here when you come.” He rolled her nipples slightly harder. “And you will come. I will make you come.”
“Yes, Lars. Yes. A little harder.” She thrust her breasts against his hands and ground her pelvis faster against him.”
“I won’t just make you come. I will satisfy you,” he swore.
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