Brady grinned and Leah snorted, trying her damndest to cover her still-increasing respiratory rate. Of course he didn’t mind. The women on the crew were already drooling and falling all over themselves—including her, much to her own chagrin. When he began to unbutton his shirt and finally separated the two plackets, pulling the shirt out of his jeans as he did so, it was all she could do to keep her own mouth closed. The man’s chest was mouthwatering, sprinkled with the same dark-blond hair that was on his head. His well-developed pecs led down to six-pack abs, where another trail of hair led to…
Brady cleared his throat and Leah’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”
“The photographer is talking to you.” Brady was smirking and she had a crazy notion to shock him by kissing that expression right off his face. Instead, with her cheeks flaming she turned to the cameraman.
“Yes?”
“I want you in the same position as before, but,” he walked up and shoved her hand underneath Brady’s shirt, “put your hand here.” Leah’s stomach dropped as her fingers came into contact with the coarse hair and smooth skin of Brady’s chest. “Brady, lower your right arm and put your hand on Leah’s hip. Pull her into you. That’s good, very sexy.”
Her gaze flew up to Brady’s face. His brown eyes had darkened with heat. Forcing her eyes away, she concentrated on the photographer and tried to ignore how warm and hard his body felt against hers.
A few moments later Brady leaned down and whispered into her ear, his own breathing hitching, “Darlin’, if you don’t stop petting me we’re gonna have a mighty interesting situation that I don’t think any amount of airbrushing can disguise.”
Startled, she pulled her hand away as if she’d been burned. Good Lord, she’d practically been tweaking the man’s nipple. David Nelson called out to her, “Are you all right, Leah? Do you need a break?”
“I’m fine,” she managed to croak out. Brady grabbed her hand and started to move it back underneath his shirt and the cameraman nodded.
“Brady, if you could continue to hold on to her hand…yeah, that’s good.”
That’s what you think. You’re not the one practically panting here.
“Since you’ve been game so far, Brady, I’m gonna ask you to take off your shirt completely. Let’s give the lady fans something to get excited about.”
Brady shrugged. “Sure, why not?” He dropped his shirt into a waiting assistant’s hands and turned back to Leah. “Like what you see?”
The need to get away from him before she did something stupid like climb right up the front of him as if he were her personal Mount Kilimanjaro was becoming overwhelming. No man she’d ever dated had made her this hot, not immediately and not ever, for that matter. “Let’s just get this done.”
Laughing, he grabbed both her hands and planted them on his chest, forcing her to splay out her fingers underneath his. “Ready whenever you are.” Leaning down again, he continued, his voice growing husky and thick. “Try not to pet me too much or I can’t be responsible for what I’ll do and the pictures will be a little more than Nelson bargained for.”
Images of exactly what he could do flooded her brain and she took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on anything but the feel of him under her hands.
He held her hands so she couldn’t remove them, and the cameraman said, “Stay like that. Leah, look into his eyes.”
Leah did, but not before rolling hers. She had to regain the upper hand here. Determined not to let Brady affect her more than he already had, she concentrated on the instructions the photographer tossed out as the shutter continued to click.
“Now, Brady, slide a hand along Leah’s thigh.”
“Is this really necessary?” she asked.
David approached them. “Sex sells, Leah. Both of you are gorgeous and single and if there’s a little bit of a rumor of something more the fans will eat it up. Can we count on you?”
Leah sighed. Where had the solicitous sponsor gone?
“Fine.”
David moved away again and Brady said, “It’ll be over soon and you won’t have to touch me anymore. Well, not unless you want to.” His eyes sparkled but still held the heat from before and Leah took a deep breath, which was a mistake since at this distance she could smell a hint of Brady’s cologne. It tickled her nostrils and made her want to lick him until she discovered where he’d applied it. She was losing her mind.
When the torture of having to be that close to Brady without drooling all over him was finally over, she scrubbed her face clean and threw her black wool crepe pencil skirt, cream-colored cashmere sweater set and her favorite ivory Badgley Mischka satin flats on, grateful to be back in her own clothes.
When she came out of the bathroom, Brady did a double take. “What?” she snapped, at the end of her patience and certainly her self-control.
“Nothing. You just, I dunno, you look a lot more relaxed. Beautiful. Not that the skating dresses weren’t nice, but wow. You’ve got some style, babe.”
Leah just shook her head. It was obvious that hitting on women was ingrained in this man’s DNA. Even so, when he turned those light-brown eyes on her and they darkened to the color of fine whiskey as his gaze tracked her from head to toe and back up again, taking an even more leisurely tour than he had earlier during the shoot, an itch started in her belly and radiated outward. He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, looking away. Her eyes narrowed. Obviously she wasn’t the only one feeling the attraction. Even though that was dangerous territory to wander into, she somehow felt better knowing she wasn’t alone.
“Wanna ride to the hotel together? No use taking two cabs,” he suggested, still not meeting her gaze.
“Um, sure. Just let me grab my things.” She started to move back into the room and he followed. When she got to her suitcase, he put his hand over hers on the handle and a jolt of electricity jumped up her arm. She quickly backed away.
His intense scrutiny followed her movement. “Allow me. A lady should never haul her own baggage.” Hoisting her carryon over his shoulder along with his duffel bag, he began to roll her suitcase behind him. “After you.” Together they strode out of the room.
She was very aware of his male presence in the cramped elevator. At least he’d put his shirt back on—thank God for small favors, along with a worn brown Stetson. He smelled of that same cologne from earlier and something else she couldn’t put her finger on, something distinctly male. One thing she could say for certain—the men she knew didn’t smell like that.
When she bothered to date, which wasn’t often since men were so low on her priority list, she chose men who wore expensive custom-tailored suits, drove high-end cars, and were as focused on their careers as she was. It was easier that way. They didn’t get in her way, and she didn’t get in theirs. She hadn’t been raised to be a husband hunter. In fact, when she looked at her parents’ marriage, which could only be described as “polite”, she had no interest in the institution for herself.
After all, she had a career to focus on. This year was her last chance to show the world she could still be a champion; that she hadn’t lost her edge through all those years of sacrifice and work, all the blood and sweat and tears. Despite everything she’d already accomplished, she felt as if there was still more to do. She had to keep her eyes firmly on the prize. First, Nationals, and then Worlds, and finally, a spot on the US Olympic team. At her age, she only had one more shot and she was going to take it.
* * * * *
Brady hoped like hell the air-conditioning was working in his hotel room. Ever since he’d seen Leah, all he’d wanted to do was peel her clothes off so he could explore her lithe, toned body. He took the opportunity to look her up and down once again. Her posture and bearing could only be described as elegant, from her slim neck to her lean frame. Leah was a classic beauty. Her long, straight chestnut-brown hair reminded him of the coat of his favorite filly back home, and her eyes, dark-green right now no doubt due to her annoyance, set off
her pale skin and darker hair well. She was beautiful in a classy, subtle kind of way, not like the girls he usually came into contact with whose looks were more obviously stated. She could be a model. Everything about her was perfect. And despite her chilly demeanor and obvious disdain for him, she was also obviously attracted to him.
Sure, he loved brunettes best, but when it came to women, he wasn’t real picky. He loved them all, and they loved him. Leah just wasn’t as forward about it. Maybe that was the attraction. She didn’t throw herself at him. She was a challenge. And like the natural-born competitor he was, he loved a good challenge—it got his adrenaline pumping. He knew he didn’t stand a chance with her, given their completely different backgrounds and circumstances, but still, he suspected he’d be unable to leave well enough alone.
He chanced another sideways glance at her as the taxi sped uptown. She was checking messages on a fancy cell phone-organizer thing she’d taken out of her designer purse. Since she was occupied, he took the opportunity to check out her body in more detail. Long legs. Very shapely, no doubt due to her profession. David had told him over the phone earlier that morning that she was injured, rehabbing some sort of ankle injury, but she wasn’t wearing a cast or any sort of wrapping, so he wasn’t sure what the deal was.
His gaze traveled farther, past a tiny waist to small, firm breasts and a slender neck. Her face was long, some might even say severe, but he’d bet she’d be stunning if she ever relaxed enough to genuinely smile—not like those fake smiles she’d given the photographer earlier. Her cheekbones were high and set off large eyes. She obviously stayed out of the sun. Her skin was perfect, with nary a blemish marking it. Put simply, she was a work of art. Given the combination of her looks and frosty personality, no wonder they called her “The Ice Queen”. Brady would love to get underneath that façade, though. He’d be willing to bet there was a hot, wanton woman just waiting to be let out.
Frowning, she put her phone away.
I wonder why she looks so unhappy all the time.
She glanced up and he smiled, trying to put her at ease. “So David said you’re from Connecticut,” he began. “I’ve never been there.”
She turned toward him, instantly smoothing her face into a neutral expression. It was fascinating watching her tamp down her emotions in that manner. Getting her to lose her self-control would really be something.
“Yes, Stamford. I take it from your accent you’re from the South somewhere?”
Brady grinned. “Texas. And no, not all of my ex’s live in Texas.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a song. You know, All My Ex’s Live in Texas?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“You’ve never heard that song? My God, woman, we need to get you to a honky-tonk.”
“Those things actually exist?” She looked genuinely perplexed.
“Yes ma’am. You can drink beer, play pool, do the two-step…”
Leah wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like a great time, but bars really aren’t my thing. I can’t remember the last time I was in a bar that wasn’t connected to a fine-dining establishment.”
Brady’s mouth fell open. “You’re shitting me.”
That actually got a little smile out of “The Ice Queen”. “No, I assure you I’m not ‘shitting you’. I’ve never understood the allure of going to a smelly, smoky place to drink horrible-tasting beer and try to shout over the blaring music.”
“So what would you rather do, Ms. Ice Queen?”
Leah shot him a dirty look. “Please don’t call me that. I really hate the nickname. Just because I’m serious about my career doesn’t give people the right to label me in such a derogatory manner.”
Brady sobered up for a moment. “No, it doesn’t. I understand what it’s like to be at the top, to have people jealous of you and always nippin’ at your heels.”
“I’m hardly at the top,” Leah retorted. “In fact, since I got injured I’ve been trying to hang on to any career at all. Twenty-five is tremendously old for a figure skater. Everyone thinks I should just hang up my skates.”
“But you don’t want to,” Brady surmised.
“No,” Leah whispered. Then, shaking her head slightly, she continued in her normal voice. “We’re here.” She was out of the car before Brady even processed her statement.
After climbing out, he grabbed her baggage again, paid the driver and motioned her in front of him. Both of them checked in and took the elevator to their rooms, discovering they’d been placed right across the hall from each other.
“By the way, do you ever dress down?” he asked her. “I hope you own some jeans or something. That stuff looks a little formal for the tour.”
Leah looked down at herself as if confused by his comment. “I don’t wear jeans very often. Usually I’m either wearing training clothes or dressed like this.”
“Then I’d suggest you buy some jeans and t-shirts. You’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb wearing duds like those. Plus there’s dirt all over the place and I’m sure you’d hate to ruin your expensive stuff.”
“Is there anything about me that is acceptable to you?” she grumbled and he couldn’t help but smile. Oh yeah, there was a lot about her that was very acceptable. The tightness in his Wranglers could attest to that. He decided to say as much and see what kind of reaction he got. If she shot him down it would probably be better for both their sanities anyway.
“Honey, there’s a lot about you that’s acceptable to me. Hell, better’n acceptable.” She flushed but didn’t slap him or otherwise respond. Interesting reaction. Maybe she really was just as attracted as he was. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “I’m just making a suggestion. I told you, there’s a lotta dust and dirt in the arenas. Tell you what. We’ll have some time when we get to Pueblo before I have to compete. There’s a great Western store there. You can load up on jeans, maybe a pair of cowboy boots and a cute little hat.”
Leah looked unconvinced. “I don’t know…”
“Don’t think so hard about everything, Leah. Trust me, you’ll feel a lot more at home being on tour with us if you’re wearing the same stuff we are, and that’s jeans, t-shirts, cowboy hats and boots.”
Leah sighed and he knew he had her. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
Chapter Two
Leah woke up in a haze of confusion, reaching blindly for the alarm clock in the darkness. After flopping back onto the bed she took a moment to assess her surroundings. Remembering where she was, she groaned and crawled out of bed, wrapping her satin robe around her as she stumbled to the bathroom. Even after years of early training sessions she was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, and the thought of having to be chipper on the air at seven was not a happy one. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep until after midnight, so she was working on barely four hours of sleep, since it was currently four-thirty in the morning. She would be lucky to make it through the round of interviews today awake, much less coherent.
Turning on the water full-blast, she stepped under the spray. After cleansing quickly and washing her hair, she stepped out, dried off, dressed, pulled her hair into a quick bun, and was just tucking her room key in her purse when a knock sounded at the door. Brows knitting together, she went to the peephole and looked out. Brady stood on the other side, looking entirely too upright and cheerful for this early. The hot, irritating bastard.
She opened the door and gave him a once-over. “Why are you so happy?” Turning, she closed the door behind her and started down the hall.
Brady followed her, chuckling. “I own a ranch. In the offseason I get up pretty early to work it. Besides, I only need five or six hours of sleep a night anyway. I take it you’re an eight-hour kinda gal?”
Leah didn’t answer, just punched the down button for the elevator with entirely more force than was necessary. It didn’t respond immediately and she poked it again for good measure. Brady reached over and touched her arm, sendin
g a spark of awareness up it. Wow, she was awake now. She peeked at Brady to see if she was the only one who felt the connection. She wasn’t. He stared at her, a flicker of something in his eyes she couldn’t quite decipher.
Why was she so attracted to this man? He was completely unlike the men she usually dated. She liked her men in suits, with good, stable jobs and a similar upbringing to hers so they understood her lifestyle and the inherent pressures. Suddenly, men like that sounded incredibly boring. Rubbing her temples, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the coming day.
“I’ll buy us some coffee at the shop downstairs before we hop in a cab,” he offered when she forced her eyes open once again. “We can’t have you going on national television with that little wrinkle between these perfect eyebrows.” He smiled and reached up, smoothing out the skin on her forehead before briefly stroking her cheek with the rough pad of his finger. Leaning in, he placed a gentle kiss between her eyes, his warm lips lingering. Their reverie was interrupted when the elevator dinged. Both of them jumped back and then Brady said, “After you, ma’am.” She stepped onto the elevator and he followed, pushing the button for the lobby. He was in front of her and to her right, and as they descended her eyes were drawn to his backside. How did one man manage to draw such a winning ticket in the body lottery? It was hardly fair to the rest of them.
True to his word, Brady bought coffees for both of them in the lobby, snorting when she asked for a venti nonfat latte with a shot of sugar-free vanilla syrup. “What’s your problem now?” she groused.
“Nothing. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d be into those double-double, extra-extra everything coffees. I hope you can tolerate plain old cream and sugar, though, because that’s all you’ll find on tour.”
“Plain old cream and sugar are just fine,” she bit out, irritated that he assumed she couldn’t hack it in less-than-ideal conditions. “Look, I’ve competed in China, Russia, Hungary, you name it. And it didn’t bother me a bit that I didn’t have five-star accommodations. Now will you get off my back?”
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