Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  Saying that, he walked out of the office and shut the door.

  Matt stared at his sister. “Is that cool with you?”

  She laughed. “I guess so. I’ve never seen that guy anything but serious and somber. I guess I’d better take care of my hockey star brother. So what’s got your shorts in a bunch? Where do you want to start?”

  “Is there a place here where we can get some coffee? I think better with caffeine.”

  “Right in the lobby of this building. Come on. I’ll let the iron maiden out front know I’ve been given an outside assignment for the day.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You have to get her permission?”

  “Not really, but she thinks I do, so it’s about the same.”

  He tamped down his impatience until they were settled in the coffee shop, he with a large extra-strong black and Brenna with a latte.

  “Okay,” she said, after she’d taken a sip and smiled with pleasure. “Let’s have it.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled to the memo app. He’d taken notes while Dara was talking so he didn’t forget anything. As they drank their coffee, he read the list, and with each word he saw the impossibility of the situation.

  “How the hell am I going to do all this?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I mean, Jesus, Brenna.”

  She laughed. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you this flustered. I think I’m enjoying the sight.”

  “Thanks so much,” he growled. “So can you help me? More importantly, will you?”

  She studied him for so long he began to squirm in his seat.

  “What? Do I look funny?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re deadly serious about this. It’s all going to be very public, so a lot of people will see you if you blow this. You’ll never get another chance with her if you screw this up.”

  “Hence my asking for your help.”

  “Plus, if I use my connections for some of this, they won’t be happy to be part of a disaster.

  “I’ll do anything, and I mean it.”

  “Okay.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Then, let’s get busy.”

  6

  Liz stared at the email she’d been trying to write for the last half hour. It was a simple memo. Nothing she hadn’t written before. Just a confirmation of a phone call with a copy to Dara who kept the calendar. She had a meeting with the new client next week, and she needed to get her brain on straight. No more mooning over Matt Vorchak, the man who’d chosen a career over her.

  Except she couldn’t get the image of him as he was that morning out of her head. He was older, with a deeper, mature look to him. His rugged good looks were even sexier and made her think of things she’d tried to keep buried in her mind.

  “You feel so good, Lizzie.”

  Matt’s rough voice in her ear sent chills streaking through her body. She loved the deep pitch, the warmth of it as it slid like a blanket over her. Lying naked together in the cabin he’d rented, a fire roaring in the fireplace providing the only light in the room, the world ceased to exist. The hair curling on his chest pressed against her naked skin, imprinting his body on her. Against her thigh, the hot, hard length of his swollen cock made his unmistakable need known to her.

  His hands skimmed her body, igniting little fires every place they touched. Her skin suddenly felt too tight for her body, and too hot. Need, sharp and bright, coursed through her.

  “I love your nipples.” He swiped a tongue over one of them then scraped it lightly with his teeth. “I love how hard they get for me, so fast. They taste like ripe little berries.”

  He tugged on it with his mouth again, the hot wet heat of him scorching her in the most pleasurable way. Then he turned his attention to the other one, giving it the same treatment. Then, with the tip of his tongue, he traced a light circle around each breast.

  “Mmmm.” The little hum slipped out between her lips.

  “Feel good?” he whispered, his breath a warm caress against her skin.

  “Uh-huh.” Everything he did felt good. So good.

  “Look at me, Lizzie,” he commanded.

  She opened her eyes and looked into his chocolate-brown ones, the amber sparkling in the glow from the fire. With the lock of hair falling over his forehead as it usually did and the strong line of his jaw, she thought he looked like Chad Hallowell, star of the new television show, For the Prosecution. Since the show debuted, she’d had a major crush on the man. Once she’d even told Matt the reason she loved him was because he looked so much like the television star. Hallowell lived in San Antonio, in ritzy Alamo Heights. She had actually met him when the caterer she worked for during her vacations did a party for him and his wife, and she’d nearly embarrassed herself drooling over him.

  “He’s a big hockey fan, you know,” she told him. “There are pictures of him with a bunch of star players in the den at his house. Maybe when you get to be a big star you can take your picture with him and get me his autograph.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, fat chance of that.”

  “Maybe you can hook him with your big hockey stick.”

  His laugh was a low, erotic rumble. “I’d rather hook you with a different kind of stick.”

  He pressed his groin to hers, the thick length of his swollen cock hard against her sex, the heat of him burning against her in the most pleasurable way.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured again, and widened her legs to accommodate him. To cradle him between her thighs. To feel the rough yet silky hair on his thighs brush against her skin.

  “Not yet,” he told her. “I’m not done feasting.”

  He took his time licking his way down her body, using his tongue to caress every inch of her skin, even her arms and her wrists, and tracing the line of her navel. She wriggled with pleasure, doing her best to arch up to him, trying to drown herself in the wave of desire that washed over her with every touch.

  “Stay still,” he ordered. “I like tasting you.”

  When he finally reached the lips of her sex and drew his tongue the length of her slit, she nearly came off the bed. He flicked the end of his tongue against her clit, driving white-hot shafts of electricity through her. But when he bit down on it lightly and tugged, she came in a screaming orgasm, twisting in his grasp, her body shaking with the spasms.

  She was still shuddering when he rolled on a condom and, with one powerful thrust, drove into her.

  “Oh god!” She wrapped her legs around him to pull him tight to her body. He was—

  Something banged into her forehead. What the hell?

  “Liz? Are you okay?”

  Dara’s voice pierced her foggy brain. What was Dara doing in bed with her and Matt? How had she—

  “Liz!” Dara’s voice was louder and sharper, now. “What’s with you?”

  Liz opened her eyes to see Dara staring at her. She blinked and realized with embarrassing clarity she was sitting at her computer and had apparently fallen forward and hit her head on the screen.

  “Are you okay?” Dara persisted. “Did you fall asleep, for god’s sake?”

  “No.” She brushed her hand over her face. “I’m fine. I was just…thinking.”

  “Thinking? Your face is all flushed.” She squinted. “Damn! Are you daydreaming about Matt Vorchak?”

  “What? Of course not.” But heat crept up her cheeks. God! She had actually been having an erotic daydream about Matt Vorchak right here in her office.

  “You were!” Dara burst out laughing. “Oh! My! God! It must have been some dream because your face is all red and you’re sweating.”

  Holy shit!

  She checked to make sure she wasn’t drooling or embarrassing herself in some other way.

  “It’s hot in the office. That’s all. I’m going to wash my face and get some ice water.”

  But Dara could not stop laughing. She was still chuckling when the door to the office suite opened and a man walked in. He was holding a substantial piece of metalwork
in front of him so his face was not visible. He took three steps into the suite and stopped.

  “Can we help you?” Dara asked.

  “I’m here to see Liz St. John.”

  Liz looked at Dara and shrugged.

  “I’m Liz. What can we do for you? And would it be possible for us to see your face?”

  “Yes,” Dara added. “We like to know who our prospective clients are.”

  “Wait.” Liz suddenly realized what he was holding. “Isn’t that— Is that the Cup?”

  “Oh, I’m not a client, prospective or otherwise.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “And, yes, it is.”

  Liz frowned, trying to place the voice that had a familiar ring to it. And what was he doing with the Cup? She didn’t think Matt would give up one precious minute of his twenty-four hours with the thing he’d pushed their life together aside for. Oh, wait! Had Matt decided to send someone in to plead his case for him? For god’s sake!

  “Why do you have the Cup?” she demanded. “I figured Matt would even take it to the bathroom with him. He already thought filling it with roses would make up for the past. Is he up to some kind of weird trick here? Did he pay you to come here and play some kind of trick on me?”

  “No trick at all.” The man lowered the massive trophy he was holding.

  “Chad Hallowell!” they chorused.

  “Got it in one.” He winked.

  Liz’s jaw dropped at the sight of the familiar face here in her office. Holy shit again! How weird was it she had just mentioned him in her unexpected erotic daydream, the thought of which sent a flush of heat through her body. He looked exactly as he did on television, except instead of a suit he wore dark jeans and a red Henley T-shirt. But the masculine appeal was just as strong.

  And he was here! In her office! Because Matt Vorchak had somehow connected with him and asked him to do this. For her. Because he’d remembered all this time that she had a gigantic crush on the man. He actually remembered! Oh! My! God!

  She glanced at Dara who was staring stupidly at the man. She made a supreme effort and pulled herself together. How had Matt managed this? And did he think yet another outrageous gesture would make up for everything he’d done? Or, more accurately, hadn’t done.

  “I’m assuming, since you’re holding that piece of…whatever…that Matt Vorchak sent you?”

  “Wait!” Dara held up a hand. “Does Matt actually know you?”

  Chad laughed. “The fact is, I know him. Sort of. His sister works for the law firm that handles all my legal work.”

  “And he told you I wanted your autograph?” She didn’t know whether to be pleased or embarrassed.

  “Actually, I was very flattered. I understand you’re one of my biggest fans. Thanks for that. I appreciate it.” He studied her face, eyebrows drawn together. “Have we met before?”

  Liz nodded. “A long time ago. I was working for the caterer you and your wife hired for a party. I can’t believe you remember me.”

  And I can’t believe I am acting like a crazy, starstruck teenager here.

  “I try to remember faces.” He looked from one to the other. “Listen, can I put this down? There’s a message inside.”

  “A message?” Liz just couldn’t get her brain around this whole thing. In her dream, she’d asked Matt to get her Chad’s autograph, and suddenly the man showed up here? Was she still dreaming?

  “Yes, of course put it down.” Dara, not hampered by the residue of a dream, stepped forward and gestured to the low table in the client area.

  Chad set the trophy in the middle of the table, handling it very carefully.

  She stood there, shocked, unable to gather her scattered thoughts. She wasn’t sure if she should be angry at Matt for a crazy stunt like this or pleased he’d remembered her addiction to Chad Hallowell and gone to all this trouble for her.

  “B-but what are you doing here?” Liz stammered. “I mean, you’ve got the Cup b-but why—”

  Chad held up a hand. “I am here on assignment. One, by the way, I am happy to fulfill. And it was an honor to have the Cup be part of it.”

  Reaching into the bowl-shaped top, he retrieved a sheet of paper, unfolded it, and scanned it briefly. Then walked over to stand in front of Liz, who was still in shock. He held up the paper and cleared his throat.

  “To my lovely Lizzie…”

  “It’s Liz,” she interrupted.

  “Okay. Sure.” Chad winked and began again.

  “To my lovely Lizzie…

  Woman of my heart, we should never have been apart

  I thought I was cool, but I was really a fool

  Winning the Cup was a real coup

  But didn’t make up for losing you

  Walking away from you was the worst

  I really should have put you first

  But if you just give me a chance again

  I’ll give you my heart and all of who I am

  I love you, Lizzie, and that’s no lie

  Without you I’m lost, a miserable guy

  I know my poetry’s really bad

  But it comes with an autograph from my friend Chad.”

  Chad reached into the bowl again, pulled out a manila envelope, and extracted a photograph, a publicity shot of himself, which he handed to Liz.

  Her hand trembled as she looked at the signature.

  “To Lizzie St. John, the only woman Matt Vorchak ever loved and ever will. Have a wonderful future. Chad Hallowell.”

  Dara peeked over her shoulder. “Oh. My. God.”

  “Holy shit!” Liz breathed, staring at the photo. “Who wrote this poem? Matt?”

  “Of course Matt wrote it.” Dara nudged her with her elbow. “You don’t think Chad Hallowell would write such terrible verse, do you?”

  Chad laughed again. “Mine would be even worse. Listen, ladies. I’d love to hang out with you, but I promised to get the Cup back to Matt for your next adventure.”

  Liz was still so stunned she couldn’t move or speak until Dara nudged her.

  “Did you hear what he said about the next adventure?”

  Liz’s eyes widened. “Next adventure? What’s going on here? Am I dreaming this whole thing?”

  “It’s real,” Dara assured her. “I’m a witness.”

  Chad nodded. “My lips are sealed. I can only tell you that Matt Vorchak is a man driven to desperation by love.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card that he handed to Liz. “My wife said to give this to you. Any woman who could inspire what he’s got planned has to be unique. Brenna told us you do special events. We have one on tap. Give my wife a call and work out the details with her.”

  Then he was gone, taking the Cup with him.

  The two women stared at each other.

  “A party for the Hallowells?” Dara said at last. “Holy mother, Liz. Matt’s pulling out all the stops here.”

  “I’m still not sure if I imagined this whole thing.”

  “I’d say the man is on a campaign to win you over. He must really have pleaded his case to get Chad Hallowell, big television star, to take time out of his day to do this for him. You can bet the guy has a lot of other things to do. And this was pretty damn romantic.”

  “But a poem and Chad’s autograph?” Liz frowned at her friend as she settled back into reality. “You think that makes up for his walking away from me for all these years?”

  Dara gave her a long, hard look. “I’m not saying that. But I think he went to a lot of trouble to get you something he knew you wanted, and even was willing to embarrass himself with his awful poetry to tell you what he’s finally discovered is in his heart.”

  “So you’re saying I should just open my arms and forgive him?” Liz snorted. “Not a chance.”

  “I’m saying you should at least give him a chance. How many men would remember something as obscure as your wanting Chad Hallowell’s autograph. And that poem? Oh, my lord, Liz. I don’t know another man who would be willing to humiliate himself that way to
express what he feels.”

  “I know, I know.” She nibbled her thumbnail. “I just—” She shrugged. “You know.”

  “I do. But think of this. Chad Hallowell took the Cup back with him, and Matt wasn’t here so he’s probably waiting for it somewhere. That’s a good sign this isn’t the last you’ll hear from him today.”

  Liz shoved her hair behind her ear. “I know whatever it is, it has to happen before the end of the day. I, um, looked up about the Cup. Each player only gets it for one day, so after his twenty-four hours with it he has to give it back.

  Dara smiled at Liz. “I know he hurt you badly, but you’re both older. Give him a chance, honey, or you might regret it.”

  “We’ll see.” But when she sat back down at her desk, it wasn’t to look at her computer screen but to stare at the signed photograph and the poem.

  And to wonder what else Matt might come up with before the day was over.

  7

  They had met up with Chad Hallowell at The Daily Roast where Part One of The Plan kicked off. Matt was so grateful to the guy, he almost embarrassed both of them by hugging him. Now, as they waited for Chad’s return and a report, Matt fiddled with his empty coffee cup until his sister smacked his hand.

  “Stop that. You’re not twelve years old.”

  He looked across the table at her, his lips curved in a half-grin.

  “Maybe not, but I sure feel like it right now.”

  “Like when you were in high school and asking Lizzie St. John out for the first time?” Brenna teased.

  Matt nodded. “Exactly like that. Except I wish I was that kid again. I’d know better than to make the same mistakes I did all these years.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” She leaned forward. “You couldn’t see anything but hockey from the time you were ten years old. You were lucky to find a girl who put up with you.” She sighed. “Of course, in your own inimitable manner, you managed to tell her she should welcome being on the back burner while you moved ahead with your career.”

  “Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Bad form there. Shit, Brenna. Is there a rewind so I can do it all over again? I can’t believe what a selfish, self-centered bastard I was.”