Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  “I’m not entirely sure I understand what you’re asking me to do.” She looked so hesitant, he had to smile.

  “I’m asking you just to trust me. Put all those pieces together be as natural as you can. Be a little casual, but don’t be informal. You don’t want to just come in and fling yourself down, but you do want to sit and look like you belong.”

  Rising, she gave him another look of uncertainty. After taking a deep breath, she walked away a couple paces then returned. This time, when she sat, she crossed one leg over the other almost immediately then leaned back but without leaning into the sofa.

  “Perfect. So, when you go out to sit in the car, that’s exactly how you do it. You go out there, you get in the car as if you own it. You take a seat and you make yourself comfortable, but you don’t get informal and don’t look out and try to make eye contact. That’s another mistake, the minute you make eye contact with someone shouting a question at you, they know they have you. Your instinct, when you are eye to eye with someone, is to respond.” To emphasize the point, he sat opposite her and locked gazes.

  “Oh,” she said and he could see the red flush rising in her cheeks. “Okay, so don’t engage, don’t meet their eyes, walk like I own the place, and sit but don’t be too informal. Whatever I do, don’t make myself look like I’m in a compromising position.”

  “Hey, you’re a natural.” He gave her a wink. She’d relaxed a little bit more because there was less jerkiness to her movements as she rose. So self-conscious and blushing, she really was adorable. He glanced at the front doors. The car pulled up, but fortunately no press lingered on the sidewalk. Whether he could see them or not, he knew the cameras would be outside.

  “When you walk outside, just forget the rest of the world. Forget the people on the street, forget the cameras, and even forget the possibility of press. You just had a long day, you’ve done your work, and now you’re going to get in the car and head back to hotel to have dinner. That’s it. It doesn’t matter what anybody else is doing, that’s the only part you have to play right now.”

  “Real life shouldn’t involve playing a part,” she complained and he empathized.

  “All the world is a stage,” he reminded her as he offered her hand. “So what are our lives, but a play upon it?”

  When she slipped her palm into his, a shock rioted through his system. It had to be static, though there were no rugs on beneath their feet. Maybe it was the dry air.

  “Thank you, Archer,” she murmured as he led her to the door. “Thank you for being a good guy.”

  “Eh, you could say playing keep away is what I’m good at.” It was time to keep away from where his thoughts went while she held his hand. He didn’t do sweet, or gentle—or darling angelic faces.

  Nope.

  Not him.

  Then she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes and their gazes locked. He forgot all about not engaging. When she smiled, his heart fisted.

  “It doesn’t change how I feel, or the fact you don’t owe me anything. So, thank you,” she repeated.

  “You’re welcome,” he assured her, then ushered her to the car. “It’s my pleasure.” Dammit.

  “Breaking news tonight. Our newly crowned princess of pop may have more than a frog in her closet. It turns out she might have a wicked brother…are you feeling the sweet princess’s pain? Tune in tonight for all the details.” –ACE News Clip

  Riding to the hotel with Archer proved far more entertaining than Hoshi suspected. He offered several pearls of wisdom, some straightforward others…well, others were just a little bit peculiar.

  “For example,” Archer said as the car circled the block of the Johnson Arms then pulled through to the parking garage behind it. She hadn’t even realized the hotel had its own parking garage, though it wasn’t available to the public. It fit neatly right behind the hotel, sandwiched against another building. New York certainly knew how to maximize their space. “Wherever you stay, there’s always a less public access. Front lobby is great for the average person. When you’ve earned any kind of a reputation or media attention, and you want to avoid incidences at all costs—discover alternate routes. The lobby is where they’re waiting for you.”

  “But if everybody goes through the back entrance, why would the press wait out front?” It made a certain amount of sense for the press to set up their residence near the front entrance and in the lobby. However, with so many celebrities in the world wanting to duck media attention, didn’t it make more sense to stake out the secret routes and hidey holes?

  “Truth is, sometimes you can find an industrious one, but there aren’t that many industrious ones. Besides, it’s easier to handle one or two than to handle thirty or forty.”

  “But I don’t get why the thirty or forty don’t split up or at least maybe have one in each location?”

  Archer chuckled. She almost hated to admit the incredibly girly reaction she had to his laugh. It was sinful, like he knew something no one else in the world did and was choosing to share it with her. She really didn’t have time to have a crush on someone, much less someone with Archer Durham’s reputation. Her mother would be beside herself to discover Hoshi was even in the same vehicle with a hockey player, much less the champion who had the sex tape. Yet, scandalous tape or not, he’d been an absolute and consummate gentlemen.

  “Being stationed out front gives them two options, sometimes three.” Archer didn’t make any move to exit the vehicle as they pulled into the parking garage. In fact, he waited a beat once the driver parked. “In front, they can get b roll of the hotel. They can also get man on the street interviews. There also ten times more likely to find you doing something ‘guiltily’ than they are back here.”

  She’d never thought of it that way. Then again, recalling the newscast airing when she met him in the lobby, they really had cut the film together to portray Archer in a not so friendly light. The television had been muted, so she hadn’t been able to hear what they were saying. By the images alone, Archer looked like a bully. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  He shrugged. “You can’t let everything bother you, kid. Too much going on in the world, some things are a tradeoff. If you love what you do, then you accept the sacrifices you have to make. How the media tries to repackage and sell you—that’s their issue. You can’t let it become yours.” He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he scanned the area between them and the hotel doors. Leaning forward, he slid a twenty to the driver. “There’s an extra one if you can do a walkthrough for us.”

  “You got it.” The driver shut off the engine then exited the vehicle.

  “What is he doing a walkthrough for?” Hoshi waited until the driver was out of the car before she demonstrated her ignorance.

  “He’s going to give me an idea of what to expect. Frankly, there could be any number of photographers hanging out. The number doesn’t bother me, but if I know how many, it’s easier to be prepared. Expect every time you step out of the car that they’re going to photograph you. Don’t worry about it, don’t look at them, don’t give them a smile. Don’t play to the camera. They’re looking for candids, so you give them one by going about your day and going with the flow.”

  “The casual but not informal, right?” The line of conversation felt like a pop quiz in school, only the test was over how to deal with the paparazzi.

  “Exactly.” The driver returned at that moment. Instead of getting back in the vehicle, he opened Archer’s door then leaned down to say, “Looks clear. Seems like there’s something going on out front.”

  Something going on out front?

  Archer didn’t hesitate. He slid out of the vehicle, reached in for her bag, and then offered her a hand. Trying not to be awkward, she scooted over and accepted his graceful invitation. His hand lingered on hers as he glanced at the driver. “It’s an eight o’clock curtain, so be back here at 7:30?”

  The driver nodded. With that, Archer transferred his grip to her elbow and guided her toward the do
ors. He didn’t say anything, but the glances she stole from beneath her lashes revealed he had schooled his expression exactly as he’d indicated earlier. They ascended the six steps to the back door and the hotel employee on the door opened it for them. He nodded to them both, a polite greeting. Archer guided her along the hallway toward the lobby, and she could hear the quiet, dull throb of noise rising.

  “What is that?” She kept her voice low, even as she tried to keep her expression neutral and relaxed per his suggestions.

  “No idea, just go with it. About hundred steps from the elevator.”

  Then they were out of the hallway and walking across the gorgeous ornamented lobby. Everything about that lobby made her think of the 1920s, from the gold filigree on the walls to the paintings to the thick rugs in the giant potted plants. It just had an ageless wonder.

  Another shout from the vicinity of the front doors made her want to turn her head. She wanted to gawk.

  “Don’t do it,” Archer said, though he barely moved his lips. “We’re not involved, and it’s none of our business. Better to just make our way upstairs.”

  It felt so unnatural not to give into the rubbernecking urge, especially since it meant she didn’t get to find out what was going on and satisfy her own curiosity. Archer meant well, and so far his advice had been great. Once they reached the elevator, he pushed the up arrow.

  After a glance toward the floor meter, she grimaced. The pair they were using were both on higher floors. Tempted to look at the other elevator bank, she fought the urge. It would mean giving into her need to look toward the lobby.

  The longer she stood there, the more her nerves surfaced and her heart raced. Suddenly, she was aware that she was hot and sweaty, or had been not too long ago. Either way, she desperately needed a shower. Why hadn’t she availed herself of one at the studio? She even had a shower in her dressing room. Instead, she’d hurried downstairs because Archer was waiting.

  Mentally kicking herself, she closed her eyes and waited.

  “Eyes open, breathe. Relax.” The soothing presence of Archer s voice helped brush aside some of her anxiety. Not all of it though.

  Another rising shout from the crowd behind, and she felt more than saw Archer pivot.

  “Fuck.”

  After the curse, she couldn’t resist any longer. She twisted to follow his gaze and saw a gentleman entering with some fanfare, carrying—what was that?

  “That’s the Cup arriving.” He barely got the words out before the flashbulbs started going off, and his smile changed to one she’d label perfunctory at best. The elevator doors finally opened, then Archer gave her a most polite nudge.

  “Here you go. I’ll call you later.” Before she could respond, the doors closed again. The Cup? And why did it come with an entourage of photographers and an older gentleman who looked very displeased?

  More, the moment the elevator dinged, separating her from Archer, she experienced the oddest sensation of loss. She’d known him, what? Five minutes? No way she could be that emotionally invested—yet she was. He was the first person to treat her as though she were normal in a long time.

  She still mulled that over when she let herself into her hotel suite. Once in the room, she dropped her bag then walked over to fall face first onto the bed. Exhaustion draped her and all she wanted to do was sleep.

  She must’ve nodded off because between one heartbeat and the next, she sat up and blinked groggily. The light in the room had declined and left her in shadows. And the side table was ringing.

  Staring at it incomprehensibly, Hoshi tried to identify what made so much noise. Finally realizing it was the hotel phone and not her cell, she pushed away from the bed and snagged it off the cradle. “Hello?”

  “Good evening, Miss Sato,” Archer said by way of greeting. “I’m sorry to wake you, if I did.”

  “That’s okay,” she said not bothering to deny the interruption. “I probably shouldn’t be asleep right now anyway. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I got to the room. I pretty much face planted then passed out What time is it?”

  “It’s a little before seven.” He sounded amused. Okay a little before seven—then she’d slept for a little over an hour? So, why did she feel like she’d been asleep for centuries? The heaviness in her muscles was killing her.

  “That’s good, at least I didn’t sleep all night. Even better, cause I haven’t taken a shower yet and I stink.”

  Rich, masculine laughter flowed over the phone and her face warmed. If she looked in the mirror, she’d likely be scarlet.

  “And I just overshared. My apologies, Mr. Durham.” Was it too soon to bury her head under the pillow?

  “Please don’t apologize. That was the most honest wake up conversation I’ve had in a long time.” The timber of his voice stroked her, like a hot fudge on cold ice cream. Kind of perfect. “I actually called to extend an invitation.”

  Invitation? Wasn’t his car coming back for him at 7:30 or did she dream that part?

  “Um. Okay?” Her gut churned at the very idea. She didn’t want to venture out again; they’d just made it back into the hotel. It was room service all the way for her.

  “I apologize for the short notice, but I have a pair of tickets for Hancock tonight. I had intended to take the Cup, but it appears I needed to purchase three seats so the Keeper could join me.”

  She must have been more tired than she thought, because she couldn’t quite parse his statement. “Huh?”

  Another chuckle, then he said, “My God you are fantastic for my ego. I am inviting you to join me to the musical and dinner after, if you’re in the mood. My treat. Come on, Hoshi, put this jaded man out of his misery.”

  Out. Musical.

  He was asking her out.

  “If it’s at all tempting, I’ll arrange for dinner in the roof garden when we return. A quiet place, just for special guests where there will be no press, no photographers, and no televisions to spoil the mood.”

  Seriously torn, she paced the room. “I have to take a shower first. Currently, I wouldn’t want to be alone with me in an elevator much less a car or a theater.” Another laugh greeted her statement and she groaned. “And I need to find my filter and put it back in place.”

  “I forbid it,” Archer said with a note of delight in his voice. “I absolutely forbid it. Take a shower, if you must, change your clothes if you wish—but leave the filter in the room. Will 7:30 be sufficient time for you? If you need longer, I can have the car wait for us.”

  “That would be great. I can do that. Is it formal dress for the theatre?” Did she have anything to wear?

  “Trust me, sweetheart, with how much the tickets cost, you can wear whatever you want.”

  Oh. A fresh wave of anxiety swamped her. “How expensive was it?”

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that question. In large part, because when a gentleman calls a lady and invites her out, the expectation is the gentleman will take care of the bill. The lady allows the gentleman to take care of the bill because it was his idea. Agreed?” There was a measure of warning underscoring those words, but she could also hear the humor.

  “So, if I ask you out to dinner, and you accept, do the same rules apply?”

  His answering chuckle carried just a hint of deviousness. “Absolutely, I’d be paying then, too. I’ll be at your door at 7:25. I’m not going to knock, you just come out when you’re ready.”

  The line disconnected, and Hoshi blew out a breath.

  She had a dinner date with Archer Durham to go to the hottest musical in town, and afterward they were going to eat in a restaurant atop the Johnson Arms.

  Wow.

  Glancing at herself in the mirror, she squawked. One of her braids had come loose and an entire half of her hair stood straight up. Meanwhile, the duvet left a rumpled imprint embedded on her cheek.

  Oh God. She had a dinner date with Archer Durham and she looked like a train wreck. She hurried into the bathroom. She needed to change
and make herself presentable. First things first—wash her nasty hair.

  4

  “Here’s a fun fact about the championship Cup in hockey, did you know the winners get to spend a day with the Cup? It travels with a Keeper, and the players get to do whatever they want…” –ACE News Clip

  Taking Hoshi to the musical had definitely not been on the agenda when his day began. After a disagreement with the Keeper, he was even more determined to make it happen. As it turned out he couldn’t take the Cup in place of his mother because he did not have enough tickets to bring the Keeper as well. What a stupid ass rule. Then again, his mother would’ve appreciated the irony that by virtue of the fact he couldn’t do what he wanted, he would instead take a pretty lady to see a fun musical and then out to dinner. Frankly, hadn’t that been what he wanted to do in the first place?

  Leaning against the wall opposite Hoshi’s room, Archer replayed the conversation with the Keeper in his head. The man had been unyielding on the subject, but then he had a right to be. What did Archer really care if the Cup went or not? In fact, the more he thought about it, the better he liked taking Hoshi.

  Her door opened, and he forgot how to breathe for a minute.

  “I’ll be damned kid, you clean up nice.” Nice was definitely an understatement. Hoshi had dressed in a vivid purple dress which hugged her frame as if it had been spray-painted on, yet it remained perfectly modest and didn’t reveal anything. Her shoulders would have been bare, save for the glitter cloud of purple sparkles attached to thin nylon fabric. It didn’t leave him much of the way of cleavage to stare at but it didn’t matter.

  The packaging was nearly as stunning as the woman herself. His gaze fixed on her dark eyes, captivated. She left her dark hair down this time. It flowed around her shoulders then halfway down her back in a sweet, wavy mass. When he tilted his head, he could just make out a glimpse of sparkle within her hair itself.

  “Tell me that’s a tiara.” It struck him as so delightfully absurd and entertaining at the same time.