Because this wasn’t a perfect world.
Far from it.
Smoothing her hair, she straightened, sucking in her abs and squaring her shoulders. Shewouldgo buy that cat. Eventually she’d figure out a way to ignore the hole in her heart, the one that ached to be filled even more than the lonely place between her legs.
And that was saying a lot.
“Enough.” She dabbed the mysterious moisture collecting in the corners of her eyes.
Forget burlesque classes and trying to be sexy. She’d construct a roof on her rut and call it a home. After all, this was the twenty-first century. She could take care of her own business one self-administered orgasm at a time.
She had enough time on her hands with the stupid lockout in effect.
Sniffing twice, she turned to the door. Now that she had a plan, all she needed to do was survive this stupid night and that stupidly sexy man, who had managed to ruin the one bit of stupid harmless flirtation she had in her life.Bye, bye, Byways.
Good thing she’d turned in her “Top Five Worst Coaches in the NHL”piece for next week’s paper. Petty, yes, but satisfying.
After drying her hands, she stepped into the small hallway and into Tor Gunnar’s chest.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said wryly.
“Did you follow me?” She pushed off him, aghast. Was her face splotchy?
Just when she’d thought her situation couldn’t get worse, leave it to fate to say, “Hold my beer.”
“You left your purse on the table.” He extended her purse with a stiff arm. “I thought you might want it.”
“What?” She didn’t have the first clue what thoughts marched through this man’s mind.
“I should be asking you that. Were you crying?”
“No. Of course not.” She snatched the purse and shoved it under her arm. “It’s awesome to hang out with a guy who hates your guts. Super relaxing.”
“Hates your... what?” he spluttered, glowering at her. “What makes you think I hate you?”
Great. This guy was Mr. Literal. Now she’d get some big speech about how technically he didn’t hate her, only disregarded her, and somehow that was even more awful.
She straightened to her whole impressive five feet and a half. “Don’t you?”
“Neve.” He took a step forward, filling the whole alcove, the clean citrus scent on his skin permeating the air. Her entire world shrank like a deflating helium balloon and the only thing she could do was try to focus, her gaze fixed on the third button of his blue shirt, the one that fastened in the center of his chest. The same chest that was currently heaving as if he’d just completed a record sprint.
Okay, then. He wasn’t unaffected by her proximity either.
Sweat misted the valley between her breasts. The soft, worn cotton of her bra was too rough against the sensitive peaks.
She shifted, clenching her thighs together. “Tor, listen—”
“If I hated you, then why would I want to kiss you so damn bad?”
Her heart gave up beating. She wasn’t going to survive the heat melting his frosty gaze.
“Kiss me?” Her mouth formed the words, but she wasn’t sure if she managed to squeak the question out loud until the corner of his mouth crooked.
“That an invitation?” Wry amusement entered his tone.
And there went the bones in her legs—poof, gone.
The only choice left was to fling her arms out and grip his broad, strong shoulders.
