Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  “We need to get downtown and make arrangements,” he reminded her. “And I have to get home, make myself presentable, and be back at the station at four.”

  “Okay, okay.” She speed walked to keep up with him. “Just take a breath here, okay? We’ll get it all done, and in plenty of time.”

  “What am I going to do if she won’t accept anything?” The idea made him physically ill. “If Dana can’t get her downtown, or she won’t get in the carriage, or she tells me to go take a hike or—”

  “Stop it. Right this minute.” Brenna stepped around in front of him and put her hands on his chest.

  “But—”

  “But, but, but. Yes, anything can happen. Yes, she can tell you it’s too little, too late. Yes, she can tell you to kiss her ass.” She stayed right in his path. “If she does, we’ll figure something else out. You might not be able to undo eight years’ damage in one night. But, Mattie? I see how serious you are about this, and I’m stunned. So if I can believe, maybe Liz can.”

  “And if not?”

  She studied his face for a long time, looked into his eyes as if trying to see inside him.

  “Then we’ll just work harder to change her mind. We won’t give up, okay?”

  He managed a smile for her. “Okay. But I may be a raging maniac if this doesn’t work.”

  “Let’s just wait and see what happens. Now, move it! We have places to go and things to do!”

  Liz liked the fact that, instead of one large room for all the clients, Queen for a Day had created individual rooms that held one or two people, giving the ultimate in privacy. Now she lay in the chair in what one of the spa’s “relaxing rooms” and told her body to do what the room was named for. She’d been wound up tight as a drum when they got there, so many conflicting thoughts whirling around in her brain and emotions clashing in her body that she felt like a rubber band pulled too tight.

  The very last person she had expected to appear in her life out of the blue was Matt Vorchak. In eight years, she’d thought she’d managed to get past all the hurt and bury the emotions he’d left swirling around inside her when he went off to chase his dream. She’d thought she’d come to terms with it all, made a life for herself without him. Now here he came, with the shiny trophy he’d left her to chase and doing things like writing bad poems and sending Chad Hallowell with his autograph. How was she supposed to deal with all that?

  The big question was, could she trust that things had changed? That she wasn’t just second best because his career was over. She hated the fact her stupid heart and her traitorous body were ignoring all the pain he’d caused.

  She closed her eyes, inhaling the light lavender-scented steam and willing herself to succumb to its powers of relaxation. The lounge chair was thickly padded and shaped itself to her body. Heated coils inside were supposed to soothe her frazzled nerves, along with the aromatherapy. There was even a television mounted on the opposite wall, with a remote on the little table between Dara and her.

  They’d just finished with the hot stone massages. A late lunch would be served shortly, shrimp salads and chilled wine, before the facials and mani-pedis. Then, finally, the hair stylists would take over. But while they were getting their fingernails and toenails beautified, Janette, who owned the little boutique, would bring over some outfits for them to see. She really didn’t need to buy a new one, but she also didn’t want to put on her coffee-stained clothes after all the primping and pandering.

  Dara had mentioned something about dinner downtown on the Riverwalk. They had a favorite restaurant there, although the visits were sometimes painful. She and Matt had eaten there many times and, despite her best efforts, a meal there always brought back memories.

  God, wasn’t she just pathetic? It was the damn poem that did it. It was so rough, it was obvious he hadn’t had anyone write it for him. That made it all the more emotional, and she just didn’t trust emotional with Matt Vorchak. For all she knew, tomorrow he could walk right out of her life again and leave her with more emotional scars.

  She closed her eyes and tried to let her mind drift into nothingness.

  “I love your mouth.” His was barely a breath away from hers, and she could almost feel the touch of his warm, soft lips on hers.

  “And I love your body.”

  He slid his mouth across her cheek, his voice low and rough in her ear, the whisper of air stirring her body in all her secret places.

  “I love yours, too,” she murmured, and stroked her hand down his flat abs to his groin, where his cock stood swollen and proud.

  “Touch me,” he whispered.

  She wrapped her fingers around him, feeling the heat of his shaft and the throb of the vein circling it. Slowly, she stroked up and down, feeling him swell even more in her grasp, mesmerized by the tiny bead of fluid that formed on the head. When she bent down and lapped it up, he sucked in his breath, thrusting his fingers into her hair and clutching her head to keep it in place.

  “More,” he gasped. “That’s it. God, that mouth of yours is so fucking sweet. Let me feel your lips around me. Yeah, like that.”

  She closed her mouth over him as she pumped her hands slowly up and down his hard cock. She moved them in a rhythm that had become so familiar to them both, his breath hitching with each and every stroke. His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her head as she moved it up and down.

  “God, Lizzie. You just do it to me. You—”

  “Liz? Liz, are you okay?”

  Dara’s voice cut through the fog of the sensual dream, shocking her into reality.

  “Huh? What?” Her eyes popped open, and she sat up. The dream exploded, sharp and clear in her brain, and she gave silent thanks she wasn’t clutching an imaginary cock and making inappropriate sounds. Damn!

  She glanced over at Dara, who was watching her through narrowed eyes.

  “What the hell is going on with you, girl? I think you aren’t quite as over Matt Vorchak as you’d like us all to believe.”

  “What?” She blinked. “No, I’m—” She flopped back on the lounger. “I am so messed up, Dara.”

  “No kidding. You need to chill, honey. Inhale the lavender. When they bring in the wine, take a good slug.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She sighed again. “This is just so nutso.”

  “It’s—” Dara’s eyes flicked to the television. “Oh, hey. Here’s the sports news. I wonder if there’ll be anything about Matt and what he’ll be doing.”

  “Do they even know he’s back in town?”

  Dara shrugged. “Reporters sniff out everything. Hold on.” She pressed the button on the remote to raise the volume. “Oh, look. It’s a picture of Matt. See? That’s his number. That’s the picture they took when he scored that goal. And here’s the reporter.”

  “Before I give you the latest on the Spurs,” the man said, “I have a hot tip for you. Matt Vorchak, premier defenseman for the Cajun Rage and a San Antonio native, is in town. He’ll be here at five o’clock with the Cup, the trophy the team received for winning the league championship. It’s customary for each team member to have the Cup for one twenty-four hour period. They each have something special planned, and we understand Matt’s plan is really special. Tune in at five to see Matt and the Cup and hear all about some exciting plans in his personal life.”

  Liz frowned. “What the hell was that all about?”

  Dara muted the sound. “I guess we’ll find out at five o’clock when he does his interview.”

  “What do you think he’s got on his mind?” All kinds of weird ideas were flying around in her brain. “Something else crazy like that poem and having Chad Hallowell show up with the Cup and read it to me?”

  “I think that’s all we’ve seen from Chad today. I’m sure he has many other obligations. But we should watch the news at five and find out.”

  “Will we be finished here by five?” Liz asked. “Lordy! I didn’t realize it took this long to be relaxed and beautiful.”

  “
I know.” Dara clapped her hands. “Let’s wear our new clothes and go downtown for dinner. First, we can go to that bar you like so much near The Menger Hotel, have a drink, and watch the news there.”

  “Right.” Liz snorted. “Then if he does anything to embarrass me, I’ll be convenient to getting drunk.”

  “Maybe he’ll do something to surprise you. You know, something else to get back in your good graces.”

  “Like what? Take my picture with the Cup?” She let out a long sigh. “It’s crazy, Dara. One minute, I’m back to where we were eight years ago, ready to give him another chance. The next, my head tells me not to trust him. That he’ll just hurt me all over again. I don’t know if I could handle it twice. I need to go slow here, and I get the feeling Matt’s on the raw edge of impatience.”

  “Don’t you think it’s possible he realized after all this time what a mistake he made? That he never should have walked away and somehow expected you to just hang around for him?”

  “All those times he called me during the past years?” she cried. “Why didn’t he say something then? He just let me keep pushing him away.”

  “Some men aren’t good at admitting they made a mistake,” Dara pointed out. “And don’t you think it’s possible Matt had a lot of growing up to do?”

  “What if he’s just, I don’t know, settling. Maybe because of his injury. Maybe he’s decided I’m second best.” She held her hands out in a pleading gesture. “How can I trust he means it after all this time?”

  Dara shifted in her lounger. “I don’t know, Liz. He certainly sounded sincere to me. I can’t imagine a man doing what he’s done so far, especially with Chad and that poem, unless he desperately wanted another chance. It would be humiliating for him.”

  “So I should take the chance that I should be the one humiliated?” Just the thought of it tied her stomach in knots.

  “Why don’t we watch the show and find out. It may have nothing to do with you at all.”

  Liz shook her head. “I know Matt. He’s on some kind of mission where I’m concerned. When he gets his mind set on something, it never strays.”

  “Well, in a few hours, you’ll know. Meanwhile, we’ll be primped and pampered and dressed in new duds. Oh!” The door to the room opened. “And here is lunch. Good deal.”

  Liz sat up straighter, using the buttons at the side to raise the back of the lounger.

  “Why do I have a feeling Matt Vorchak is about to pull the rug out from beneath me.”

  “Or maybe take you for a ride on a magic carpet.” Dara winked. “Relax. Drink your wine. Have a little fun for a change.”

  Fun. Okay. Liz just hoped it wouldn’t be followed by disaster.

  9

  “Mattie, stop fidgeting.” Brenna reached over and fiddled with his tie.

  They were seated on a couch in what the young man who’d come to fetch them in the reception area told them was the guest lounge.

  Matt pushed her hand away. “I can dress myself. I’m not a jerky kid anymore.”

  She laughed. “I’m not so sure about that.” Then she sobered. “I just want you to look good for the television people. The nice woman who brought us in here said the sports guy would be along in a few.”

  “You might not believe this,” he told her with a wry grin, “but I’ve actually been interviewed for television before.”

  “I know, I know.” She shifted in her chair. “Maybe I’m the one who’s nervous.” She ran the tip of one finger around the edge of the Cup. “I want you to know how proud we all are of your part in this, Mattie.”

  “Thanks. But could I ask a favor? Could you not call me Mattie in front of other people? It makes me sound eight years old.”

  “Sure.” She grinned. “Would you prefer Matthew?”

  “I’d prefer to get this interview over with so I can see if Lizzie is bowled over or running for the hills or maybe after me with a shotgun.”

  “Wow, Matt. Nervous much?”

  “Damn straight. I just wish I knew—”

  Before he could finish the sentence, the door to the lounge where they were sitting opened and Rod Terrier, director of sports, himself, walked in.

  “Hey, Matt.” He held out his hand. “Rod Terrier. It’s an honor to meet you. Thanks for coming down to the station today.”

  Matt shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for inviting me. I appreciate it.”

  “Hey. You’re a hometown hero. Scoring the winning goal in two games? That’s big.”

  Matt just nodded. Scoring those goals had been the high point of his career. Too bad it had also ended that night. Instead of enjoying his celebrity he was a wounded has been.

  “Thanks. ”

  “I was so sorry to hear about your injury.”

  “Yes, well, we can’t always choose what happens to us, right?”

  “And I’m guessing this gorgeous woman with you is not the one you have a surprise for, right?”

  “This is actually my sister, Brenna.”

  “Well! Thanks for coming along with your brother. You brighten up the place.”

  “Thank you. I’m kind of helping him with his project today.”

  Rod looked around. “Didn’t they offer you coffee? Water? Soft drinks?” He chuckled. “Cookies? Candy?”

  “We’re okay,” Matt assured him. “Besides, I think I’ve had enough coffee today to sink a battleship.”

  “Okay, but if you want anything, just let me know.” Rod studied the Cup. “I have to say that’s a magnificent piece of metalwork.” He ran his finger over the rim of the bowl that served as the crown then smoothed his palm over all the engraving. “A lot of history here. Some of the greatest teams in professional ice hockey history.”

  “It’s a symbol of what we all work for. Kind of the Holy Grail of hockey, I guess.”

  And why did he feel so uncomfortable calling it that? Hadn’t it been his Holy Grail, and wasn’t it quest for it that had blinded him to other things in his life?

  Rod gestured toward the trophy. “I’m sure your agent mentioned to you we’d like to get some photos with the Cup, right? Nearly everyone here asked for one.” He cocked his head. “That okay with you?”

  “Ah, sure.” That’s what I signed up for. “Whatever you guys want.”

  “Great.” Rod gave him a big grin. “Just hold on a sec while I gather everyone. This is a better spot than out in the studio. Be right back.”

  “Don’t forget to smile like this is the best thing you’ve ever done,” Brenna reminded him. “These people are your fans. I’ll bet these shots turn up everywhere on social media.”

  “Great,” he grumbled.

  “None of that. These people are giving you a chance to plead your case to Liz. Be real nice to them.”

  He cracked a small grin. “Yes, Mom.”

  “And when you’re on, please, please, please remember to call her Liz.”

  “She just doesn’t seem like Liz,” he protested. “More like Lizzie.”

  “Because that’s who you remember,” Brenna pointed out. “She’s not that young girl any more, Mattie. She’s grown into a wonderful, beautiful woman. Liz.”

  He sighed. She sure has.” He looked at Brenna. “Okay. Then you can kill the Mattie.”

  She grimaced. “Touché. I’ll do my best.”

  The door to the lounge opened again, and Rod walked in with a photographer. Behind him, a group of people crowded into the space, all of them talking and trying to shake his hand at the same time. He looked at Brenna, who just grinned and winked.

  “Okay, everyone.” Rod went about organizing them, moving them into some semblance of order. “Let’s not maul the guy. One at a time. And I think we’ll do it over here.”

  On one wall of the lounge was a cutout sign of the station’s call letters. The photographer moved Matt to where he wanted him. Then, as Rod introduced each person, they stepped up beside him, shook his hand, thanked him so much for doing this, and they both smiled for the camera.

&nbs
p; Matt pasted on his public smile and shook everyone’s hand as they stepped up for their turn in front of the camera. The last person was a man he guessed to be in his fifties, well-dressed in a gray pinstripe suit with a darker gray shirt and an unexpected bright-purple tie.

  “My wife’s ideas of dressing down,” he told Matt with a self-deprecating smile. “Sam Forteza. Station manager.” He took Matt’s hand in a hearty shake. “Thanks for coming down here today. We’re very honored to host you. I understand you have a little something special going today.”

  Matt looked at him, stunned.

  “Oh, no problem.” Forteza grinned. “Rod had to clear it with me. When people want something a little extra special, we have to make sure we won’t get sued.”

  Matt hadn’t thought about that. “Oh. Well, thank you so much for signing off on it.”

  “Just be sure to let us know how it comes out. We all enjoy a good love story.”

  So did Matt, especially if it was his. And even more if this worked out.

  “I will. And thanks again.”

  “We’re going to get those shots printed while you’re on the air,” Forteza told him. “We’ll paper clip everyone’s name to their photo. If you could take a few minutes before you leave to sign them, that would be great.”

  “Oh, of course. No problem at all. Happy to do it.”

  And then he’d get the hell out of there so he was on time for the next phase of his plan.

  As soon as everyone was ushered out of the lounge, Rod gestured for Matt and Brenna to sit down. Matt lowered himself to the couch again as Rod sat down in one of the armchairs across from them. He did his best not to appear nervous, but a lot was riding on this television appearance. More, in fact, than anyone but Brenna really knew.

  “Let’s take some time to chat a little before we go into the studio, okay?” Rod asked.

  Matt nodded. “Sure thing. Whatever you need.”

  “I’ve got all the usual stuff from our library and your agent. I want to know about the real Matt Vorchak. Especially about this big surprise thing you’ve got going.”