Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  No chemistry, thought Addison. She knew her friend had had a rough time of it lately with her father passing away suddenly and finding herself in the unexpected position of jointly running the team with her two half-sisters, neither of whom she got along with all that well. Three bickering women attempting to steer a professional sports team to success? The media was having a field day, especially as the jokes wrote themselves.

  “So what did you get Ford for his birthday?” Harper asked. “Lemme guess? Anal?”

  Addison blushed. Sometimes Harper was really too much.

  “Knew it.”

  “Nooo. I haven’t given him his gift yet.” Her hand flew to her tummy, thinking about how that “gifting” conversation would go. Eager for a rapid subject change, she added, “Your savior’s a real charmer, by the way.”

  “My sav—oh, right.” Her gaze tracked to where Ford stood with Remy, darkening on spying the big Cajun with his back to them both. It lingered somewhat longingly on the man’s very fine ass. What was it about hockey players and their most excellent butt musculature? As his boss, Harper couldn’t get involved with him or even have a little fun, which was a damn shame because if there was one thing Harper needed, it was a little—or a lot of—fun.

  “I wonder why he’s not married,” Addison mused, because she suspected Remy DuPre gave new meaning to “fun.” “Or in a relationship.”

  “Some men aren’t cut out for it. You probably found the last magical unicorn in the league.”

  Warming up, Addison poked the bear a touch. “He’s had girlfriends. Plenty of girlfriends.”

  Annoyance flirted with Harper’s usually ice-cool expression. There it is. A forbidden romance might be just the ticket . . . Look at how it had worked for Addison.

  “Sweetheart, I missed you.”

  She turned in time to see her man—the man of the night and all her future nights—leaning in for a kiss that made her heart flutter.

  On separating, she found Harper and Remy shooting daggers at each other, and she missed the opening salvo because Ford dragged her away. Spoilsport.

  “Callaghan,” she whined, “I’m trying to stir things up here.”

  “You need to be stirring things up over here.” He pulled her behind a pillar, away from the crowd. “Time for a Ford-Addy check-in.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’re we doing?”

  He checked in with her lips, then along the curve of her neck to that sensitive spot along her collarbone. Then his hard body decided to get in on the check-in act as he covered her completely.

  “All good.” And then, in a reverent, awe-struck tone, “Christ, woman, I love you.”

  Her heart did a funny spin. She felt his love in every lusty kiss and genuine moment they’d spent together since he signed with the Rebels, but he’d not expressed their connection in words. She’d been a little worried that he might feel obliged to say that when she told him her news. To hear him offer it so freely was a gift in itself.

  He lifted his head from where he’d been nuzzling gently. “What, nothing? Not even a cheeky ‘I know’? Because you have to know how crazy I am about you. How I fell in love with your voice and wit and charm on that balcony.”

  She tried to remain grave, though joy was bubbling like lava below the surface. “So, you like me for my personality?”

  “Well, you don’t have much else going for you, Bright Eyes.” He sighed. “Okay, you’re not so bad to look at, I suppose, but I’m not the shallow type who’s swayed by a pretty face and a bangin’ body.” He rolled his hips against her, hitting that sizzling juncture between her thighs just right. “I’m mostly interested in a woman I can talk, argue, and grow old with.” Another rub of his erection against her core. Oh, God, they needed to find somewhere, anywhere, now. “Soul-deep. That’s the connection I want.”

  His mouth captured hers, avowing that profound, ever-deepening connection, one that had sparked on a hot summer night in the shadows. One that had blossomed in the light into something so all-consuming she refused to imagine her life without it.

  She’d fallen in love with a man who risked it all to stoke the embers of desire created that first night and turn those sparks into flames of love. Who saw what she couldn’t because her heart was closed to the possibilities. Who respected and cherished all she was.

  Ford “Killer” Callaghan slayed her every time, and she was happy to die in his arms every night.

  “I love you, too, Callaghan,” she whispered. She brought his wandering hand from her ass to her stomach. “Happy birthday, Daddy-to-be.”

  Any doubts she had that he might not be thrilled at this news faded as his face transformed from desire to shock to unadulterated joy. Radiant happiness shimmered in his chocolate-drop eyes, ones she hoped their baby would inherit.

  “Looks like we’ll be slipping away to Jimmy’s office very soon.”

  She sighed dramatically, then added with a grin, “If we must.”

  About Kate Meader

  Originally from Ireland, Kate cut her romance reader teeth on Maeve Binchy and Jilly Cooper novels, with some Mills & Boon thrown in for variety. Give her tales about brooding mill owners, oversexed equestrians, and men who can rock an apron or a fire hose, and she’s there. Now based in Chicago, she writes sexy contemporary romance with alpha heroes and strong heroines who can match their men quip for quip. Find her online at KateMeader.com.

  Also by Kate Meader

  Are you all caught up with Kate’s titles?

  Chicago Rebels series

  IRRESISTIBLE YOU

  Hot in Chicago series

  REKINDLE THE FLAME

  FLIRTING WITH FIRE

  MELTING POINT

  PLAYING WITH FIRE

  SPARKING THE FIRE

  Tall, Dark, and Texan series

  EVEN THE SCORE

  TAKING THE SCORE

  ONE WEEK TO SCORE

  Hot in the Kitchen series

  FEEL THE HEAT

  ALL FIRED UP

  HOT AND BOTHERED

  For updates, giveaways, and new release information, sign up for Kate’s newsletter.

  Checking Yes

  by

  Misty D. Waters

  For E.

  You always checked yes, and for some reason fate was

  determined to keep throwing us together.

  Not that we did anything about it. ;)

  1

  Cooper Banks peered around the raised hood of the Pagoda Green ’64 ½ Mustang to squint across the pedestrian-busy crosswalk heading to and from the Dove Harbor, Georgia waterfront. Slightly distorted by the coils of heat rising off the concrete, strolled the very reason he was there.

  Savannah Jane Scott.

  Bleached blond waves pinned in a loose ponytail over the left shoulder of a teal polo shirt. White shorts revealed toned, petite legs ending in nude flip-flops. She wasn’t your average twenty-five-year-old and was far and away the girl he’d last seen three years ago.

  He found himself smiling despite himself. He would recognize that walk anywhere. Thumbs hooked to the messenger bag strap set in a diagonal across her chest, while those fingertips played absently over her stomach. The elbows jutting out just enough to strike anyone passing by too close. They’d been a hazard to ribcages since the second grade.

  He took up a red, grease-stained rag and scrubbed his hands as he sauntered around the front of the car. He needed to be much closer than that, but after three years apart, there was something to be said for appreciating from a distance.

  “Not exactly how I planned to run into her,” he whispered to himself, utterly transfixed. Confidence shored up in him like a ship to familiar land. “But who am I to ignore a cosmic setup?”

  Decided, he took one step and felt an unbalancing shift as something invisible completely flipped his insides around. Having spent years being professionally checked by two-hundred-plus-pound hockey players, it’d been a while since he felt nervous about anything. Which was ridiculous because Savanna
h Jane was equivalent to a warm drop of rain falling from the sky.

  He chuckled derisively to himself. If that particular raindrop bounced off the ground in the form of a shark. He was pretty sure the moment Savannah set those gorgeous blue eyes on him he’d walk away with a huge bite taken from the middle of his chest. Pain he would suffer deservedly while charming his way back into her good graces.

  Maybe his head was ready to head on over there, all thoughtlessly brave. But his heart was not yet prepared to suffer rejection. Neither were his feet, apparently, as they were rooted to concrete.

  Fate intervened on his behalf, saving him from the humiliation of chickening out. The tow truck he’d called pulled up alongside Betty, the name Cooper’s dad gave the classic car two decades ago. A lined face peered through the passenger window, glancing down at where Betty had wheezed her last breath. The second those eyes set on Cooper, exhaustion deepened the man’s wrinkles.

  Not the reaction he was used to these days, but not unexpected. Small towns like this remembered every mistake made by every resident, and Cooper’s was an unforgivable curse in most circles. This was another reason he was there. He was going to fix that, come hell or high water.

  The man got out and meandered around toward Cooper, his name tag boasting the name BUCK in all caps. “You’re Andy’s boy.”

  It’d been a long time since anyone called him that, and it certainly wasn’t a question requiring an answer. More a statement of fact. Sort of like: No, you don’t use fireworks in a fireplace. Or: No, actually, the sun doesn’t set in the morning; it rises. Statements for idiots-like. And Coop was the idiot.

  “That’s me. Andy’s Boy Banks. Friends just call me Andy’s Boy.”

  Buck’s frown deepened. “What’s that?”

  “Tough crowd,” Cooper murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “What’s that?” the driver asked again.

  Cooper’s gaze slid past Buck to where he’d been absently following the blond head. Savannah Jane had stopped in front of a bench and heaved the messenger bag over her head. She looked radiant in the late afternoon sun, and he felt an acute sense of longing. If she didn’t forgive him, he didn’t know what he would do.

  One deep breath later, Cooper threw on his All-Star smile like a coat of armor, and jutted a firm hand forward with only a small concern Buck would bite first, shake hands later. “How are you, sir? Thanks for coming so fast.”

  Buck flicked his gaze down to the grease rag hanging loosely at Cooper’s side. “Think you can rifle around a classic like that, get some grease on your hands, and that engine will just start itself?”

  His father not only showed him how to keep Betty running but also taught him to be polite. That had to come first and foremost to his pride. No matter what.

  Smile still in full force, he said, “No, sir. I plan to leave the miracles to you.”

  The mechanic lifted a soft pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and propped one in the corner of his mouth. “Best idea you’ve had all your life, son. Your daddy’d be proud.”

  One day someone would say that without a sarcastic tone attached. Because he may be long gone, but if there’s one thing Cooper was sure of, it was that Andrew Banks was proud of his son. Those were his final words, in fact. But the rest of town hadn’t been around for that parting conversation, and their assumptions otherwise had killed any chance Cooper had of a welcome homecoming.

  Buck made quick work of writing up a service ticket, getting the ignition key, and hooking Betty to the tow. In fact, he barely gave Coop a chance to retrieve his bags and cell phone before hopping in the cab saying, “I’m not a taxi service. You’ll have to get his own ride.”

  Bags at his ankles, scowling at the backend of his dead car moving away, Cooper released a sigh. This was not how things were supposed to go. He was meant to come home and just take a quick look around town before going to the house. The drive was less about taking in the old haunts, and more about avoiding his brother Josh for just a while longer.

  Cooper considered crossing over to Savannah. Not only for the ride he needed but finding out how much work he had to do to get her back. Then again, he’d just spent eight hours in the car under a hot sun. The first impression he made had to count.

  Yes, he realized he was making excuses. Time to bite the lesser of two bullets.

  Cooper thumbed through his contacts to “Joshua Banks” and tapped the little phone icon. Five rings later, his brother’s voice penetrated the hollow silence, sounding very far away. “This better be important, little bro. I’m busy.”

  “Betty broke down, and I could use a ride. I’m on the corner of—”

  “You’re an important guy. You need a ride? Call someone who cares that the Rajun Cajuns star leftwinger is stranded on the corner of I Could Give and Two Shits.”

  The click on the other end had Cooper pulling the phone away to stare at the disappearing keypad with “Call Ended” at the top. “It’s the Cajun Rage, assmunch.”

  “What’s an assmunch?”

  Cooper followed the high-pitched sound belonging to a child. A woman steered her young daughter in a wide berth on the sidewalk, glaring at him. So much for his first first impression back home.

  Cooper threw on his megawatt smile. “I apologize, ma’am. Didn’t see you there. I promise to be more careful in the future.”

  He had to get off this street. And unlike the streets he’d become accustomed to in New Orleans, there wouldn’t be a single taxi happening by. And according to his Uber app, those were still nonexistent in these parts of the world. A quick internet search gave him the number to a taxi service, and he hit call. At most, he’d have to wait fifteen minutes. The benefit to small-town life.

  As he waited for someone to pick up the other end of the line, his gaze drifted over the palmettos and cyprus trees sprouting up and around brick inlaid walkways along the shoreline. A raspy-voiced woman answered his call just as his attention fell on Savannah Jane’s white blond hair, the smooth strands glowing in the sunlight. She sat now sat facing the ferry currently dropping off passengers returning from Morgan Island.

  He wanted to be next to her so badly that his lungs constricted. Watching her stare over an open laptop reminded him of their earliest days. The way they held pinkies instead of hands. Lying on their backs while the merry-go-round spun to a lazy stop, in which case he’d get back up to restart them. Those childish, infatuation-ridden notes they used to pass in class. Do you like me? Check yes or no. She’d always checked yes. So had he.

  Always.

  “Hello?” the woman on the phone inquired a second time.

  He startled and tried gathering himself. “Never mind. Sorry.”

  Cooper hung up and took a shaky breath. “You better not fuck this up,” he warned himself. Braced for impact, he crossed the street.

  Savannah Scott breathed in the brine-scented air. Coming here had been a bad idea. She should have known better but trying to access the creative side of her brain from inside her air conditioned apartment had wasted the better part of her day. Sometimes going outdoors helped her focus. But today all she could concentrate on was how perfect a day it was to people watch. And soak in the hot sun. And melt into the scenery, going completely unnoticed. Basically, she could call the entire day a loss.

  Good thing there was always tomorrow.

  Beside her on the bench seat, her phone vibrated with a new text. Dinner tonight?

  Savannah sighed. No girl her age should be getting dinner invites from their father on a Saturday. Not that dinner with her daddy was terrible… Her last legitimate date had been to a monster truck rally, which pretty much summed up her dating life as a whole. A bunch of too big personalities crashing around in the mud.

  Still. Dinner with her daddy felt like another lost weekend.

  Her slender fingers hovered idly over the keyboard sitting in her lap, too lazy to reach over to text a reply. Instead, she watched the Morgan Island Ferry dock in preparation
to unload the last island-goers of the day. Picking apart the passengers’ body language was a game she liked to play.

  He’s texting a younger woman, and his wife knows it. You can tell by the way she cuts her eyes at him over their son’s head, and the dimple burrowing in the center of her chin like she’s trying not to cry.

  Those guys just got engaged. Or had the best sex ever. They’re awfully close to each other. This made her sigh dreamily with jealousy.

  Fancy camera strap wrapped around the wrist instead of neck… She’s a photographer for an online travel magazine. Or a—

  A large shadow drew across her lap and came to a stop. Goosebumps rose along the length of her arms. She looked up and swallowed a sharp breath.

  He and his hockey team just won the Cup for the New Orleans Cajun Rage. And he was my first boyfriend. And my first kiss. And my first love. My first…everything.

  Cooper himself seemed to be under the same need to clear old images away from the new. Try as she might to see the confident man outfitted in overpriced casual wear, she couldn’t unsee the boy who used to let his hair get a little too long, his beard scruff grow a little too thick.

  But the past did eventually begin to burn away. His old lean muscles had matured into those belonging to a grown man. To be clear, not any man from around there. These were the type of arms that would easily lift her off her feet, pin her to a wall, and…

  Savannah went numb from the top of her head down as she stared up at the only person on earth who made her toes curl using just a look. Like they were now. After all this time her body still sprang to life when he was near, wanting his strong hands somewhere, anywhere, her skin was exposed.