Razors Ice 04 - Hot Ice

by Rachelle Vaughn

  Jace looked at her left hand and was blinded by the sparkle coming from the hefty sized diamond ring. He grasped her wrist and held her hand up to inspect the hardware. “That’s a pretty big rock you’ve got there,” he whistled. “It’s got more bling on it than my Gordie Cup Championship Ring.”

  “It’s not my style, it’s Phillip’s. I hate that it’s so flashy and that’s part of why I never wear it.”

  Jace wondered what the other reason was.

  “I just wanted a plain gold band,” she said, sliding off the ring and dropping it into her purse.

  Jace was blown away by her statement. No woman wanted anything plain when it came to jewelry. “Uh-huh,” he said without an ounce of sincerity.

  She frowned. “I did.”

  “That thing must have cost a fortune.”

  Violet sighed and her shoulders drooped. “Jace, what’s with the money thing? You’re always bringing it up.”

  “Isn’t money important to you?” he answered her question with a question.

  She took a moment to think about it. “Honestly? Not really. As long as I can make my car payment and scrounge up enough to pay the space rent on the office, I’m okay.”

  His eyebrows furrowed like he was having a hard time believing her. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes, Jace. I’ve lived paycheck to paycheck my whole life, so it doesn’t bother me to not have any extra. If anything, it’s given me more motivation to work harder and keep my business running.” She looked at Jace. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. There was no fooling Violet, so he decided to be honest with her. “I was married once.”

  “I know,” she said not sounding the least bit surprised. “You mentioned it before. What does that have to do with your fascination with money?”

  Anger coated in bitterness flashed in Jace’s eyes and a sardonic grin twisted his lips. “One morning she woke up, told me she had never loved me and that she wanted a divorce pronto. Then she hired a shit-eating lawyer and proceeded to take me for just about every dime I had.” The only reason Jace got back on his feet was because of the lucrative contract he signed with the Razors, but he didn’t tell Violet that.

  Violet put her hand over his. “That’s awful, Jace. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  “It wasn’t the money so much as what she told me,” he said softly.

  “That she didn’t love you?” she asked gently.

  “Yeah. That and she told me she only married me for my money. That’s a tough thing to get over, I guess.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Jace. She must have had some feeling for you or she wouldn’t have married you in the first place.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Simone made herself perfectly clear about why she married me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “I don’t play hockey for the paycheck. Don’t get me wrong, sure it’s a nice perk, but I do it because I love it. But, as far as women go, I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “I understand. Where is she now?”

  “She moved to New York and married some hot shot basketball player. I guess hockey wasn’t high profile and rich enough for her.”

  “Well, I can think of something we can do for free,” Violet said playfully.

  As she kissed her way down his stomach, Jace wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into and how he was going to get out of it.

  * * *

  In the middle of the night, Violet was woken by a cry of agony. Next to her, Jace tossed and turned, his face twisted in agony.

  “Jace, wake up.”

  She barely touched him and he bolted upright in bed. When she flicked on the bedside lamp, she saw that his eyes were wild and his skin shone with a layer of sweat. He swiped his hand across his forehead and blinked away the crazed look. She touched a hand to his shoulder and he flinched.

  “You made that horrible sound again,” she told him. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He shook the images from his mind and absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder.

  “Tell me what the dreams are about.” She said it softly, but he knew she expected an explanation.

  He looked at her and concern was written all over her pretty face. “My injuries,” he said simply. “Last night, I got to re-live my knee being twisted to shit.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jace.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lazy Boy, Oh Boy

  Violet couldn’t shake the feeling that things with Jace were coming to an end. It was inevitable, she knew, but that didn’t make it any easier. Hadn’t she known it would only be a temporary situation? Just sex, right? Right. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

  Everything about the cabin started grating on her nerves. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the cabin; in fact she loved everything about it. It only irritated her when she was reminded how temporary it all was. The noises Jace made in his sleep, the way he tossed his arm protectively over her waist in bed…all of those things annoyed her. Annoyed her because she loved the sounds he made and her heart melted every time he embraced her and yet she knew it was only for a short while. She could easily see herself in Jace’s bed for the rest of her life, snuggled by him at night and waking up to him in the morning.

  She knew Jace’s patience grew short, too, but there was nothing either one of them could do about it because they weren’t willing to break things off yet.

  When Violet’s phone rang while she drank her first cup of coffee of the day she was glad for the distraction. “Miss Lillian?” Violet answered. “Is everything all right?” she asked with concern. Miss Lillian was her favorite client and she had just been at the elderly woman’s house the day before for their weekly appointment.

  “Everything is quite all right,” Miss Lillian replied. “I was wondering if you could stop by. I have a little something for you and I don’t want to have to wait until next week.”

  “Sure, sure. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Violet pulled up to Miss Lillian’s house and wondered what her client could possibly have to give her.

  The old woman’s little house looked exactly the way a grandma’s house should look. With boxes of flowers in the windows, antique furniture smelling of lemon furniture polish throughout and doilies on every surface. In the corner, a table with spindly legs held a basket full of colorful yarn and knitting needles. The potted orchid by the window drooped despite the cheery sunshine streaming through the window.

  The cat-shaped ceramic cookie jar in the kitchen was always crammed full of cookies and Miss Lillian always insisted Violet take one or two before she left. The house always smelled like cinnamon no matter what Miss Lillian had been baking.

  When Miss Lillian greeted Violet, she was all smiles. Violet was immediately ushered into the living room and offered tea.

  “I can’t stay long,” Violet told her. She wanted to stop by Jace’s before her first appointment.

  “Well, I won’t keep you, dear.”

  Miss Lillian patted her hand, her gnarled arthritic fingers reminding Violet so much of her own grandmother that she bit back tears. If it hadn’t been for Grandma Collette, Violet wouldn’t be doing what she loved to do and helping people like Miss Lillian on a daily basis.

  This was what she was meant to do. This was the type of person she was meant to be helping. Someway, somehow, she needed to get back to that and start helping the elderly exclusively. No more athletes. And no more hockey players.

  “How are those brothers of yours doing?” Miss Lillian asked and handed Violet a glass of freshly made sweet tea.

  Violet launched into an answer, glad to take the focus off herself and why she hadn’t “settled down with that special someone” yet. As much as her brothers irritated her sometimes, Violet was always glad they were around to take the spotlight from her.

  “Now you’re p
robably wondering why I called you over. I just wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for me. No amount of medication can hold a candle to your massages, Violet dear.” Miss Lillian handed Violet a big box wrapped in old faded wrapping paper. “I would have given it to you yesterday, but it wasn’t quite finished.”

  Violet opened the gift and gasped when she was what was nestled inside the tissue paper.

  * * *

  Tandem goaltenders, Sebby and Nathan Connors, crouched in the net at each end of the ice. Jace and his teammates glided around the rink to warm up before Coach started in with the drills.

  It felt great to be skating with the guys again during practice. The ice felt good under his feet. His legs felt strong. His knee even felt tolerable.

  Now it was time to test out his shoulder. Jace took a few light practice shots at the net, but he knew he couldn’t baby it forever.

  “Limp wrist!” Sebby yelled. The goalie bobbed back in forth in front of the net. “Bring it!”

  Cody skated by Jace and passed him a puck. “Show ‘em what you’ve got, Ace,” he said with a wink.

  Jace shot the puck. He wasn’t giving it one hundred percent, but anything over eighty-five percent just might blow his shoulder to bits once and for all.

  Sebby zeroed in on the puck and easily caught it in his glove. “Zat all ya got, old man?” Seb taunted, tossing the puck aside.

  No, it wasn’t all he had.

  Jace hooked another puck onto his stick and wound up his shot. This time he wouldn’t take it easy.

  If he was, pardon the pun, on his last leg anyway then he was going to give the game his all, even if it left his body in pieces.

  * * *

  After a mediocre practice, Jace’s mood took a nosedive. Hockey had been his life for over two decades. How was he going to survive without it? The smell of the ice. The feel of the blades on his feet, slicing through the ice. The sound of the fans roaring in the stands.

  He was too depressed to shave, his stubble shadowed on his jaw. When Violet knocked on his door, he answered with a mumbled greeting before hobbling back to his recliner. Violet was too preoccupied to notice the limp.

  The recliner was wide enough for two people and the butter-soft leather was worn like Jace had had owned the chair for a while. Violet could imagine him sitting in it and staring out the window, looking out at the lake like a king surveying his vast kingdom. Jace was looking anything but regal now, in his gym shorts and bare feet, but Violet wouldn’t prefer him any other way. She would, however, prefer that he didn’t have such a defeated look distorting his handsome face.

  “Look what Miss Lillian made for me.” Violet proudly held up a homemade green afghan blanket.

  Jace settled into his recliner and scratched at the stubble on his face. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Not only is it beautiful, but the significance of it makes my heart want to burst!”

  Despite his mood, Jace’s face broke into a smile. It was difficult to brood when Violet was twirling around his living room. If his shoulder wasn’t shot to hell, he would have twirled her around the room himself. When she stopped spinning, her hair settled around her face and she grinned. God, she was beautiful.

  “Who’s Miss Lillian?” he asked.

  “She’s one of my favorite clients. She couldn’t even pick up her knitting needles when she first came to me. She loved to crochet and knit, but her arthritis had advanced to the point where she couldn’t do what she loved. Since I’ve been working with her, her circulation and range of motion have increased. And she was able to make this.” Violet held up the blanket, pointing to the V pattern woven through with the yarn. “See, it’s a V for Violet.”

  “I see it,” he said. “The color matches your eyes.”

  Violet clutched the blanket protectively to her chest. “Oh, to be able to help someone achieve something like this is the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever felt!” She looked at him thoughtfully before saying, “I imagine this must feel like scoring your first goal.”

  He tried to smile but sort of winced instead. She frowned and he cursed himself for ruining her moment.

  “I’m sorry. Did I hit a nerve?” she asked.

  Little did she know, Jace’s nerves were shot. Literally. He doubted the combination of dull throbbing and tingling numbness in his shoulder would ever fade. Now that feeling was spreading to his heart. The thought of never being able to score another goal gnawed at him, all but overwhelming him.

  “I’m happy for you, Vi. It’s good to see you so excited. Damned if I’m gonna rain on your parade.”

  Her face fell. “What’s wrong, Jace?”

  “There aren’t going to be any more goals, Vi.”

  “Sure there are,” she said optimistically. “You’ll always find a way to play. Even if you have to assemble a team of doctors to fit you with artificial knees and a mechanical shoulder. You’ll be the first bionic man in hockey,” she said brightly.

  “I wish.”

  “Come on,” she said with a saccharine sweet cheerfulness. “Where’s that competitive spirit?”

  “It’s over.”

  “Why do you say that? It doesn’t have to be.”

  “Believe me, my body’s done.”

  She eyed him and nibbled on her bottom lip. “You’re really hurt, aren’t you?”

  “Hmm, where do I start?” he grumbled. “I’m tired, I’m crippled and I’ll never play hockey again.”

  “Oh.” She folded the afghan neatly and set it on the counter next to her purse. She went to him, lowered herself to her knees and rested her hands on his lap. “Please don’t talk like that. I came over to cheer you up.”

  “It’s pointless, Vi. My knee is shot. My shoulder is one swing away from being torn to shreds.”

  “If I would have been giving you more massages to loosen you up like I was supposed to be doing, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Vi, if you had me any looser, I’d be Gumby for Christ’s sake.”

  “Jace, I’m so sorry.”

  “Just leave me alone. I can’t even make love to you now. Not the way you deserve.” He laid his head back and let out a defeated sigh. Damn it. It was hard enough coming to terms with his future when he was alone and now she was looking down at him with those pleading eyes of hers.

  Violet rubbed her hands over his thighs and looked up at him with a smirk. “What if I told you I’d do all the work?” She moved her fingers higher and felt his shorts tighten.

  He looked skeptical, but intrigued nonetheless. “Vi, I don’t want your mercy fuck.”

  She laughed. “Who says I’m going to show you any mercy?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not in the mood.” The way she could steer a conversation from old ladies and yarn to his dilapidated body to sex flabbergasted him.

  “Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Like I can believe that for a second. Now, all you have to do is lay back and enjoy the scenery.”

  “Damn it, Vi!” He beat his fist on the arm of his chair. “Don’t treat me like one of your geriatric patients.”

  “Ssh.” Ignoring his outburst, she put a finger to his mouth.

  He parted his lips to envelop her finger and wrapped his tongue around it before stopping abruptly and pulling away. Then he reminded himself that it was just sex. Although he didn’t completely believe that. When it came to Violet, there was no such thing as just sex. Especially when she put her heart and soul into everything she did. And he was exactly the same way.

  He looked away from her and out the window. “You should go.” He was supposed to be putting an end to this. He wasn’t supposed to sleep with her again, dammit.

  Instead of moving toward the door, Violet walked her fingers coyly up his thigh. Then she cupped his bulge in her hand. His pulsing heat through the thin fabric of his nylon shorts made a mockery of his words.

  “Do you still want me to go?” she whispered.

  “If you want to—”

  Slowly, she slid her fin
gers under his shorts. She gripped his warm pulsing shaft and moved her thumb up and down the length of him. He moaned and his breathing sped up. She tightened her grip and he sucked in a breath as the squeezing sensation radiated between his legs.

  “Do you?” she prompted.

  “It’s not fair to ask me that when you’ve got me by the balls, Vi,” he hissed.

  She loosened her grip and gently caressed her thumb over his seam. “Tell me,” she pleaded.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “I can’t think straight when you do that.”

  She held her hand perfectly still and looked him in the eye. She knew he was getting annoyed with her, but she refused to let go. “Tell me you want me to stay.”

  “I…,” he stammered, shifting in the chair.

  “Tell me.”

  “I want you to stay,” he growled.

  A smile curved her lips and she bent down to slide him into her mouth.

  “God, I can’t even remember my own name when you do that.”

  “Good. The only name you need to remember right now is mine.” With a flick of her wrist, she moved her palm around him. “Say it,” she said.

  “What?” he panted, gripping the arm of the recliner.

  “My name.” Once again, she stopped moving her hand, waiting for his answer.

  “Violet.” His voice was husky.

  A smile flashed on her face, then she leaned down and circled him with her lips over his tip and into the warm wetness of her mouth.

  Jace melted into the recliner.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I Pick You

  Patricia squinted at Violet. “Did you buy new shoes?”

  Violet looked down at her old, scuffed-up sneakers with a frown. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, it just seems like you have more spring in your step lately. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love or something!”

  Violet’s old sneakers became heavy cement blocks and she remained rooted to the floor, staring at Patricia.

  Patricia’s smile faded when she saw the look on Violet’s face. She grabbed Violet’s hand and pulled her into their private office and shut the door. She put her hands on Violet’s shoulders, eyes swimming with concern. “What have you done?”