She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for his bullying technique, but she hadn’t shied away from a challenge since she was three years old, and his taunt had resulted in her not thinking clearly before she’d inadvertently agreed to the lesson. In the days in between, she’d composed a dozen emails canceling, but had been unable to send any of them.
And it was taking all of her strength not to question why.
She certainly wished she had now, shivering in the cold, crisp air. Outside it was sixty degrees; inside it had to be thirty degrees colder. “This is the first time I’ve ever worn a pair of skates.” Growing up in California with her parents, winter sports weren’t really her thing, and the move to Colorado with her aunt hadn’t changed that. Aunt Helen hadn’t encouraged her to participate in sports, instead focusing heavily on academics.
Ben knelt in front of her to lace up the bulky, awkward men’s skates she’d rented from the arena, and she tried desperately not to think about the countless pairs of sweaty feet that had been in them. Thank God for the extra layer of thick, warm socks she’d worn.
“Well, you’re in for a treat.” Ben yanked on the laces and she winced. Watching his hands expertly tie the skates, wrapping the tattered extra-long laces around the back of the skates several times, then knotting them, she experienced an odd sense of vulnerability. She wasn’t used to anyone doing anything for her. Even a gesture as small as this one felt far too intimate, as if she were being taken care of. She didn’t want or need to be taken care of. She’d always been independent, and her plan to have a family alone was her most recent solitary venture, proving she didn’t need a man for anything. So why was her stomach fluttering? It was just her nerves about this lesson, that was all. “Are you sure they need to be that tight?”
“Unless you want to break an ankle.”
“I actually don’t want to do this at all.” Why had she entered into this stupid battle of wills with him?
He finished tying the first skate and switched to the other one. “You know, I can list a hundred women who would be dying for the opportunity for a private skating lesson with me on an empty ice rink,” he said, placing her foot between his legs to steady it as he started the yanking all over again.
She scoffed. “Right. As if a skating lesson is what they want.”
“Are you saying I’m sexy?”
“Wow—way to blow my simple statement way out of proportion,” she said and winced again as he pulled the laces, practically cutting off her circulation. “All I’m saying is some women are attracted to men like you—good-looking, powerful, wealthy…”
“But not you?”
She shook her head, knowing the outright lie might choke her to death if she vocalized it.
“So that kiss at the lake house—there was no passion there? No sexual tension? No spark?” He yanked the laces tighter, daring her to deny it.
“Nope. None. Like kissing a brother.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’d kiss a brother like that?”
She sighed and pushed him away, finishing the laces herself. She wanted to get this over with, then get to the office. This wasn’t exactly the way she’d ever thought she’d be spending a morning before work—getting an unwanted skating lesson from the opposition’s client. Soon to be ex-opposition client…She quieted the annoying reminder. Her meeting with Kristina that afternoon was the second ordeal she wasn’t looking forward to.
Standing, she made her way to the ice, hesitating at the door. The moment she placed a foot out onto the ice, her leg would jut forward and she would fall on her butt—she knew it.
“Grab the side,” Ben said behind her.
The smell of his cologne—strong and manly, yet smooth and warm—and the heat radiating from his close proximity did nothing to soothe her nerves. Better get this over with. She sighed and did as he instructed. The ice felt smooth as glass beneath her skates and she clung to the two-inch side board as she slowly moved her feet.
Ben stood beside her and extended a hand. “Let go.”
No fucking way. “You know, I think I’ll just hang on to the boards and go around.” The ice was dangerous. His touch was lethal.
He shrugged, then disappeared.
She watched as he expertly glided across the ice, his legs swish-swishing back and forth in opposition to his swinging arms as he made his way across the surface. He made it look so easy, graceful…He was confident, self-assured…sexy as hell in his ripped jeans and black sweater that hugged his sculpted, muscular chest. Without a doubt the hottest man she’d ever needed to avoid, and yet here she was. Why couldn’t she stay away from him? What was it about him that she failed miserably to resist? No other man had this effect on her.
He winked at her from directly across the ice and she lost her balance. He had to stop doing that. And she had to get it together. She stared at her feet on the ice as he disappeared out of her line of sight.
Slowly letting go of the boards with one hand, and steadying herself with a death grip with the other, she started to slide her feet. One foot, then the next one…okay, so it wasn’t as hard as she thought.
She pushed her right foot forward a little faster and further, and as she was about to do the same with her left foot, a pair of hands seized her around the waist and pulled her away from the safety of the boards. She gripped his wrists, her eyes widening as they picked up speed. “Ben, stop. This is not fun.”
“For who?” he asked, whispering in her ear as he picked up even more speed.
She swallowed hard, her spine stiff as a board as they approached the first corner. Oh God…his plan was to kill her. A skating accident. Innocent enough. “Ben—corner…Ben…” Her voice had adopted a slightly shrieking panicked nuance. One she was certain she’d never heard come from her own mouth before. Her grip tightened and her nails bit into the flesh at the back of his hands.
“I’ve got you. Relax, bend your knees a little, and lean forward,” he instructed.
She tried to do it, but her feet slipped backward, and he caught her just before her nose hit the ice. His arms around her waist as he lifted her back to her feet made her pulse soar. Too much adrenaline. Too much tension and nerves. This couldn’t be good. “I’m done,” she said, attempting to free herself from his hold.
“Do you really want me to let you go?” he asked.
Yes. She surveyed the distance back to the safety of the boards. “No,” she mumbled. “But please return me to the boards.”
He moved to stand in front of her and took her hands in his instead.
Better. But not much. Now he could see the look of terror on her face, and she could see how annoyingly gorgeous he was. His hair in a spiked, gelled mess, the thin covering of stubble on his face, and those damn blue eyes that she couldn’t escape from had her at a complete disadvantage. And yet his hands wrapped around hers—big, strong, supportive hands—made her feel safe.
“One lap around. If you hate it, I’ll bring you back inside, we’ll take off the skates, and you’re free to go, and I won’t think you’re a wimp.”
She sighed. She desperately wanted to prove she wasn’t a wimp, but already her feet were aching and every muscle in her body felt tense. Did it really matter what he thought of her?
Obviously it did. Otherwise she’d have dropped to her knees and crawled back to safety by now.
“Come on. Trust me and let go. We’ll go slow this time, I promise,” he said, the teasing glint in his eye making her wonder if they were still talking about skating. He slowly released one of her hands and she reached for his hand back.
“No! Wait. Don’t let me go yet.”
He smiled as he steadied her. “Okay. Relax, bend your knees a little, and lean forward.”
She did her best, but the relaxing part was impossible. His touch sent a tingly sensation up her arms and into her chest. How were his hands so warm in the freezing arena?
“I’m going to let go of this hand now and skate beside you,” he said.
; “Okay.”
When he was next to her, he pushed forward, dragging her with him. “Try moving your feet. Right…left…right…”
She was moving. It was slow, but she was moving. She must also be cutting off circulation in his hand, she realized, releasing her grip ever so slightly.
“Want to try on your own?” he asked as they moved a little faster, approaching the first turn.
“No.” Holding his hand was dangerous, but compared to being on her own on the ice, it was the lesser of two evils.
He picked up speed and she tensed. “Ben…”
“Trust me, you’re doing great,” he said, moving a little faster.
She shut one eye as her skates rounded the first turn and released a sigh of relief when they were once again on a straight stretch. “I survived.”
“We weren’t exactly going at a breakneck speed, but yes, you survived.”
Finding courage from some foolhardy place, she wiggled her hand free. “I think I’m okay now.”
He smiled. “Great. Race you to the other end?”
The words were meant as a joke, she knew, but her newfound confidence had her nodding. “Sure,” she said, taking advantage of the element of surprise and dashing off…as fast as she could stumble.
A second later, he was matching her pace. He could easily win this race, but he skated alongside her. “One lesson and you’re taking on a pro hockey player in a speed race—that’s a little ambitious, don’t you think?”
“Without a doubt. I guess I’m hoping you’ll trip over your overinflated ego,” she said with a smirk. Feeling herself lose balance, she turned her focus straight ahead again and slowed a little. Do not flirt. Just skate.
He took the lead, skating backward to look at her. “That’s what you think I have? An overinflated ego?”
She nodded. His intense gaze on her was making her own confidence wane, but still she picked up speed as they approached the boards—a long-repressed competitive nature rearing its unexpected head. If she got close enough, she might even push him…and maybe win the race by cheating.
“You’re probably right,” he said, “but you’re not exactly lacking in the ego department.”
“Excuse me?” She stumbled and waved her arms to regain her balance.
“Your reputation in court precedes you,” he said.
He wouldn’t have to worry about it after that afternoon, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “You scared?” she asked, teasing, but his expression turned serious.
“Terrified,” he said, slowing his pace to stand in front of her.
She swallowed hard as the moment simmered between them. His expression was full of desire, and she hadn’t realized how alone they were in the big arena until now, when the sound of her heart seemed to echo off of the concrete walls. How was the ice not melting beneath their feet? “Good. You should be,” she said, but her voice was an unrecognizable creak. She toyed with telling him that she was removing herself from the case, but at that moment it might be the only thing keeping his lips off of hers. And that’s what she wanted. Right?
“Maybe you could go easy on me…” He moved even closer, and they were almost standing still. His eyes fell to her mouth and then back to hers. “Like I’m going easy on you.”
Was that what this was about? Befriend the enemy? At first, she’d thought he’d been trying to kill her with this escapade. This was worse. She straightened her shoulders and, seeing her opportunity, shoved him off-balance.
The look of surprise on his face as his butt hit the ice almost made her laugh, but she kept her game face on. “I don’t go easy on anyone.” With that she dashed toward the boards, picking up her pace as her fake confidence grew…Until she was only feet away and going at a breakneck speed—breakneck according to her standards anyway.
Oh shit. How did she stop? She’d seen skaters and hockey players doing this sideways full stop thing that sent snow flying up into the air. It didn’t look that hard…She bit her lip as the boards drew closer and her window to make a decision closed.
“Olivia—brace yourself,” she heard Ben call as he scrambled to his feet behind her.
Shit. She was going for it. Twisting her body to the left at the last minute, she turned her skates sideways as she closed her eyes and hoped not to end up facedown on the ice.
“Holy shit. Did you just do a hockey stop?” Ben’s disbelief made her open her eyes.
She was still on her feet. Her heart leaped with joy. Forcing a cocky grin, she turned to face him as he approached. “If hockey stop is what that expert display of talent is called, then yea…”
Her words were cut short by a light push that had her off-balance and onto her butt on the cold ice. Mouth open, she blinked away her surprised expression. “What the hell?”
“That was for hustling me.”
Chapter 13
Wow, I think this woman is going for everything but the poor guy’s kidneys…and maybe one of those just in case,” her colleague Kendall Schiller whispered in the back of the courtroom later that morning. They each had a case on the docket.
“No kidding.” Usually sitting in the room and hearing other cases while she waited for her own to be called didn’t bother her, but today she was starting to feel bad for the couple. Three kids and twenty-six years together down the drain—why? Because he worked too much to support her and the kids? Hardly an offense. The worst of it was the poor man seemed like a decent guy, who was about to lose everything…
Oh God—she was getting soft. Was that a side effect of the hormone injections, too? “I’m going to get some coffee.” Water actually. She hadn’t had coffee in days, not being able to stand the look of disapproval on Madison’s face every time she saw her with a coffee cup. Lack of caffeine had to be why she was losing her edge. She’d blame it on that at least.
But when she stood, every muscle in her body ached and she grimaced.
“What’s wrong with you?” Kendall asked.
“Nothing…just a tough workout this morning.”
“You don’t work out.”
“Hence the hurting.”
“Hey, get me one, too,” she said, rummaging around in her oversized purse for change.
“I got it,” Olivia said, hobbling painfully toward the door, her annoyance with Ben Westmore growing with each painful step. Not only did her body feel like it had been ripped apart, but she’d also noticed a big purple bruise on her left butt cheek when she’d gotten out of her second shower that day. If she ached this much already, she’d be immobile tomorrow.
Pulling her phone from her purse, she scrolled through her contacts looking for his number, which he put in her phone, not her. And which she just hadn’t had a chance to delete yet.
You could delete it now, a nagging voice taunted.
Instead, she texted, My body hurts everywhere.
She tucked the phone into her suit jacket pocket as she reached the coffee kiosk at the back of the courthouse.
The blond guy behind the counter smiled in recognition. “Double Americano?”
Oh God, it was tempting.
“Not today. Just a black coffee and a bottle of water please,” she said, as the phone chimed.
He nodded and left to pour the coffee as she read, Do you need me to fix that?
What an arrogant jerk.
Though he had a point. What had been the purpose of her text?
Just letting you know that you were a terrible date. As soon as she hit Send, she gasped. Damn it! Date? Seriously? And though she was annoyed, she was pretty certain her tone would come across more flirty in his no-woman-can-resist-me mind.
She was right.
Date? Sweetheart, that was hardly a date. But since you thought it was and I disappointed—do over?
Her heart raced. No. Of course she didn’t want a do-over. She hadn’t wanted the first one. God, it was easier to manipulate the truth all day for other people than it was to lie to herself. She started this mess—again. She had to e
nd it now.
No. Plain, simple, short.
“Here’s your coffee and water. That’ll be six dollars,” the guy behind the counter said.
Olivia handed him the cash and took the drinks. Her phone chimed…once, twice, three times. Holy crap, was he writing a novel?
Setting the drinks down on the ledge near the window outside the courtroom, she read,
Dinner and drinks with the lakeside view of the mountains…
Tempting.
Followed by a full body massage to work those kinks out…
Even more tempting…
Finished off with a late night soak in my hot tub.
She deserved a freaking medal for willpower.
No.
Oh, but damn, how she wished she could say yes.
* * *
Man, he was losing his game. Ben frowned at the two-letter response from Olivia, before tucking the phone into his locker. No. Just no after she’d started the exchange. After the kiss and then the insane chemistry between them on the ice, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t contact her. There was complicated and then there was stupid, and he had enough stupid to make up for at the moment.
But when he saw her message on his phone, he wasn’t going to ignore it.
“Westmore, what the fuck are you waiting for? Let’s go,” the team’s assistant coach said, pushing open the locker room door.
“Coming,” he said, slightly annoyed with himself that he’d actually waited for her reply. His phone was a constant stream of text messages from women, though less so since he’d changed his number after Vegas, so why was the one from the woman he couldn’t have so important?
Maybe because he hadn’t been able to shake the image of her falling on her sexy ass on the ice all morning. The look of shocked innocence as she realized he’d pushed her had made him laugh to himself more than once, earning him odd looks from his teammates. Then seeing her unexpected text on his phone had surprised the shit out of him.
And now, after initiating the flirty back and forth, she’d shot him down with a simple no. He put on his helmet as he walked out to the rink.
Not that he needed an explanation. Obviously, their situation was the reason she was putting the brakes on this crazy attraction between them. Because it sure as hell wasn’t because she wasn’t into him. The kiss at his lake house had told him everything he needed to know, and the sexually charged tension between them had almost melted the ice. He’d wanted to kiss her again. He’d intended to kiss her again, before she’d pushed him.
Maybe This Love Page 11