Melting the Ice

NINE

THE QUIET OF THE HOLIDAYS—AFTER CAROLINA HAD gotten Drew out of her house, if not out of her head—had given her the opportunity to make some serious progress on her line. She’d buried herself in work, mainly because she needed to, but also because she wanted to forget the mistake she’d almost made.

Again.

He touched her so easily, slid past her defenses as if that hurt had never happened. Though it was her hurt, not his, so she had to stop blaming him for how he made her feel.

And if it was light and simple to him, again, that was on her. He wanted her, and she supposed she should feel flattered instead of insulted.

As she rolled her head around her neck to get the kinks out, and lifted her shoulders up and down, she realized Drew had been right on one count.

She was tense, could feel it in every muscle as she worked on hour ten of this day, which had started far too early and would likely keep going until she couldn’t see the thread or her eyes grew so tired the lines on the fabric patterns started to run together.

Today she was in her work studio, a space she rented so she and her assistants could sew and bring in the models for fittings. She was fortunate that she’d made a good living working as a designer for David Faber, and that she had family money to start her business. But that’s as far as the family money went. Now she was on her own, and she wanted to succeed—or fail—on her own merits. She didn’t want to rely on Preston money year after year to fund what others would think of as a hobby project. The pressure was on.

This line had to be a success.

At least she was seeing some progress, and that made a little of the tension ease.

“It’s coming together, Carolina.”

She nodded at Edward, one of her assistants, a talented designer in his own right. She’d hired him as soon as she knew she was going to design a line of her own. He’d been an invaluable asset, with a critical eye for what looked good on men, and sewing skills that she treasured.

“Yes, it is. At least there are finished products going up on the racks.”

He put an arm around her and hugged her close. “And beautiful finished products at that. One step at a time, is what you always tell me.”

She turned and smiled at him. “I know. I know. I just want it all to be done right now.”

“But it isn’t, and you need to have patience. Just breathe and take it one day at a time. The reward will be yours at the end, love.”

She laughed. “Quit throwing my own platitudes back at me and get back to work.”

Edward moved off. Carolina went to the rack, checking the finished products against her tablet so she knew what had been completed and what was left to be done.

Too many things left to do and not much time to accomplish them.

She fingered one of her dresses, a simple cotton shift she’d worked hours on designing. She slid her fingers along the scalloped edges. The hint of lace had been a perfect touch. The beige was subdued. She loved its simplicity and hoped the audience would, too.

But maybe it was too simple. Maybe if she amplified the color or changed to a print . . .

“You’re second-guessing yourself again, boss. It’s perfect just the way it is.”

She shifted her gaze to her other assistant, Tierra, a gorgeous, raven-haired beauty and the best seamstress a designer could ever ask for.

“You’re right. That dress is perfect.”

“It is,” Tierra said. “So leave it alone and come talk to me about how you want this shirt stitched. I also have a question about the fabric for this dress. The patterns aren’t matching up like they should.”

The next couple of hours were a flurry of activity. By the time they ended for the day, it was nearly eight p.m. Carolina headed back to her apartment, mentally and physically exhausted.

She changed into yoga pants and pulled a sweater over her long-sleeved shirt, then fixed a frozen Chinese microwaveable meal and sat on the couch cross-legged. She grabbed the remote, needing some mindless television to wind down her brain after today’s intense work session.

She surfed channels, not finding anything that suited her. When she landed on tonight’s hockey game, she stopped, set the remote on the arm of the chair, and watched the game while she ate.

The Travelers were tied one to one with Nashville’s team going into the second period.

After her not-so-stellar showing on the ice skating rink Thanksgiving Day, Carolina watched the ease with which the skaters raced across the ice, sticks in hand. She couldn’t help but focus on Drew as he fought a Nashville player for the puck, always so impressed with his skill on his skates. He’d been so calm and patient with her that day when he could have just as easily blown her off to showboat his superior skating prowess. Instead, he’d put his arm around her and slowly made his way around the ice with her.

Okay, so he wasn’t the jerk he’d been in college. At least he hadn’t been that day at the rink. But he’d still tried his best to get in her pants.

Then again, she hadn’t exactly been throwing off stay away from me signals, had she?

Pondering that thought, she focused again on the game. She hadn’t heard from Drew since she’d asked him to leave her apartment that night. When he’d told her it wasn’t over.

Yet he hadn’t called her and hadn’t been back.

She rolled her eyes and took her bowl to the sink, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher.

Did she expect him to follow up, to chase her down like he’d promised?

“What is wrong with you? You don’t want or need him in your life except to model your clothes.”

She marched into the living room, determined to change the channel. But her phone rang and she picked it up, smiling when she saw who it was.

“Stella. What’s up?”

“I’m downstairs. Are you busy?”

“Not at all. I just came home and threw on sweats. Long day.”

“I’m coming up. Buzz me in.”

Stella was Carolina’s best friend, and you just didn’t say no to her. Besides, she could use the pick-me-up, and since Stella was a fireball of energy, she couldn’t think of a more perfect time for a visit. She buzzed her up and went to the door to let her in.

“Hello, love,” Stella said as she breezed through the door and shrugged off her short leather jacket.

“Your style always kills me, Stell,” Carolina said.

Stella looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now, oh fashion maven?”

“Not a damn thing. You’re stunning as always.” Carolina looked at Stella, always marveling at her friend’s fashion sense. Stella was tall, so the black leggings showcased her amazing dancer’s legs. She wore a gauzy top that rode to her hips, and finished the look with distressed combat boots. With her spiky short blonde hair and her sexy, killer blue eyes, the woman was a man magnet.

Stella waved her hand. “Stunning, my ass. And you look like shit. Have you slept yet this year?”

“And to think I wanted to see you so you could brighten up my day.”

“No you wanted to see me because you know I’ll bitch slap you with the truth. You’re working too many hours. And I brought beer.”

Carolina wrinkled her nose. “When have I ever liked beer? And you know I have to work a lot right now.”

“Whatever. I’m putting the beer in your fridge. And because I know you’re a beer hater, I also bought wine. The good kind—not even from a box.”

Carolina laughed. “You’re so sweet to think of me. Let’s get to drinking.”

Stella popped a beer, then fumbled through Carolina’s gadget drawer for the corkscrew and drew the cork out of the wine bottle while Carolina grabbed a glass from the cabinet.

“And you bought a cabernet. You remembered.”

Cocking a hip, Stella waved the corkscrew at her. “Of course I remembered. We’ve been friends for almost six years now.”

“I know. But you’d be surprised how many self-absorbed people I know.”

Stella handed Carolina the glass, then lifted her beer and clinked it against Carolina’s wineglass. “Honey, I work in the dancing world. I know all about self-absorbed.”

Carolina led her into the living room and they sat on the sofa. Stella’s gaze strayed to the television and she cocked a brow. “Hockey? You’re watching hockey?”

She knew she should have turned off the television before she let Stella in. “It’s . . . research.”

“I’ll say. Hot men, fast skates, all that adrenaline. Yum.” Stella propped her feet on the coffee table and took a sip of beer. “Which one’s your favorite?”

She should’ve just blown it off and made up someone. “Actually, I went to the same college as Drew Hogan. He’s going to do some modeling for the new line for me.”

Stella looked at the TV, then leaned forward. “No shit? You know him that well?”

“Remember that guy I told you about, the one I had the drunken interlude with during college?”

Dragging her gaze from the television, Stella looked at her. “Virginity guy?”

“Yeah.”

“That was Drew?”

“That was Drew.”

Stella laid her feet on the floor and put her beer down. “You have got to be kidding me. And you’re still speaking to him?”

“It was a long time ago, Stella.”

“Yes, and he was a big dick to you that night. Correction. He gave a big dick to you that night, and then he acted like a douche.”

Carolina shook her head. “We were both drunk.”

“And he took advantage of you. Then dumped you. Asshole.”

Carolina loved that her friend was so fiercely protective of her. “It wasn’t exactly like that. Did I make it sound like that?”

“You didn’t need to make it sound like that. That’s how it was, wasn’t it?”

She shrugged. “Not really. I mean yes, I was a virgin, but God, I chased after him. Lusted after him. He just gave me what I’d wanted. What I asked him for. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t—didn’t love me like I wanted.”

Stella sighed. “And you’re still speaking to him. You’re way more forgiving than I would be.”

“Clearly, you’re a mean bitch. Who broke your heart so badly?”

“No one, because I won’t let a guy get within a mile of it. I’ve seen too many of my friends messed up by men. They’re all vicious heartbreakers. Best not to fall in love, that way you won’t get hurt.”

Carolina shifted on the sofa. “Seriously? But you date a lot. In fact, you’re always going out with guys.”

“Exactly. Different guys. They’re fun, and they have penises, and if they know what to do with them, they might get to hang around for a while. But keeping them, long term? No way. As soon as I think I might be developing feelings for one, he’s out the door.”

After all these years of knowing Stella, she had no idea her friend felt this way about men. And she could deny it all she wanted, but some guy had broken her heart. Why else would she protect it so fiercely?

She was so gorgeous. Tall and lithe, with a killer figure and a man’s attitude about sex and dating. She could quite possibly be every man’s dream.

“So who broke your heart, Stella? Seriously.”

Stella picked up her bottle of beer and took a long swallow. “I’d rather hear about the hot and studly hockey player who’s back in your life again. You should tease the hell out of him, then leave him high and dry.”

Carolina laughed. “You have a mean streak.”

Stella grinned. “I know. But that’s me. So tell me about you and—oh shit, he just scored. Goddamn, he’s good.”

Carolina jerked her attention to the screen and caught Drew’s score on the replay. He’d skated past the defender and caught a pass from a teammate, shooting the puck past the goalie and into the net.

It had been a magnificent shot, so filled with power she had felt it zing all the way through her television.

“Hello? Did you just orgasm watching the replay?”

She rolled her eyes at Stella’s comment. “Not funny. It was a good shot, though.”

“So how much are you seeing this Drew Hogan guy?”

“I’m not seeing him at all. We did spend Thanksgiving together, but only because I stayed here to work, and my mother and brother conned him into dragging me out of the house. So I worked the homeless shelter with him. Then he took me ice skating. And we went out to eat later that day.”

“So, you spent the entire day with him. Did you get him naked? Did he get you naked?”

“He most definitely did not get me naked that day.”

Stella laughed. “So he got you naked another day.”

“I had to get his measurements.”

“Ohhh, so you did get him naked.”

“Not naked. He had his boxer briefs on.”

Stella glanced at the television again, then pulled her attention back to Carolina. “I’ll bet he has a killer body.”

“He’s ripped, for sure. Even more so now than he was in college.”

“And you want to fuck him again?”

“Honestly, Stella. You’re so . . . blunt.”

“So? What’s wrong with women loving sex? When was the last time you got laid?”

She had a point. “Too long.”

“Okay, then. Go jump hot stuff’s bones, then dump him, hard. You’ll get a great release and it’ll be nice payback. But hey, first we should go to a game. I love hockey. Can you introduce me to some of the players?”

“Why? Do you want to ruin one or two of them, leaving them well satisfied but crying in your wake?”

Stella laughed. “Maybe.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. Since they’re in town, send hot stuff a text message. We can go party with them after the game.”

“Uh, it’s a little late, don’t you think?”

“It’s Friday night. What else are you going to do?”

“I was going to work tomorrow.”

“You can start a little later. Let’s have some fun tonight.”

She narrowed her gaze at Stella. “You’re a very bad influence.”

Stella laughed. “No, honey. I’m the best friend you’ve got. The one who’s going to prevent you from turning into a sweater-wearing cat lady who owns a rocking chair. Now send the text. They’re deep into the third period now and up by two goals, and I’d wager your guy is going to be ready to party after the game.”

Carolina could not believe she was doing this, but she grabbed her phone and sent the text.

“You’re going to make me regret this.”

“No regrets. Just fun.”

Carolina didn’t know about the fun part. But the message had been sent.

And she already regretted sending it.