Fresh Ice (28 page)

Quinn wasn’t sure what he felt more: surprise or triumph. “Your ankles hurt?”

She nodded, her hair silky on his skin. “Three workouts with you and my ankles are on fire. I’m a runner. My legs should not be in pain after a couple hours on the ice.”

“Pain in the legs, we can solve that!” Quinn stood and reached for the jar of ointment. “We have this….this stuff.” He wrinkled his nose. “And, if that doesn’t work, I’m sure we can find other ways of easing pain.” He bestowed his most wicked grin on her. “Which would you like first? Foul or fun?”

The grin had the desired effect. She laughed and threw a pillow at him. “Foul. But just the ankles.”

“Just the ankles?”

She shook her head. “No…my knees…and my legs…and everything!” She hugged her legs to her and howled.

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that all that bouncing around after skating today, running in for coffee, all that chatter…that was a cover?”

“I forgot to get the coffee. I begged Cat for a fist full of aspirin.” She chuckled, a throaty sound that stirred something deep in Quinn. “I didn’t want to seem weak.”

“Weak?” The one word brought him to his knees. “Izzy…” he knelt next to her and stroked her hair, “you are the strongest woman I have ever known.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to stop crying on your couch.”

“I’m saying that,” he murmured against the back of her neck, “because it’s the one thing I know to be true.” He wrapped his arms around her, aching to meld with her.

His cell buzzed
I don’t care who that is; I’m not picking that up.

The buzzing stopped and Quinn allowed himself to inhale Izzy again.

The elevator door buzzed.

“What the hell?” Quinn glanced at the display on his phone.
Serena!

“Are you expecting someone?”

No. And Serena’s definitely not expecting anyone either.
“That’s probably Benny with some notes or something. Tell you what, why don’t you go and get in the shower, I’ll deal with him, and then we’ll test this ointment and see if this really works.”

“Okay.” She stood and moved stiffly to the bedroom. Quinn grabbed and t-shirt from his bed and threw it on as the elevator doors opened.

“Hello, Serena.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, praying he looked casual.

“Quinn.”

“You’re back early.”

“St. Maarten was a bore. I should know better than to try and take an extended vacation.” Serena waved a dismissive hand. “What the blazes is that stench?”

Quinn sniffed, as if smelling something for the first time. “Oh, well, I’ve got dinner here, and I just finished working out.”
Chinese food and body stink…yeah, it’s close to whatever is in that jar.

“Who’s in the shower?”

Quinn blinked back the panic. “Shower?”

“Your shower is running, Quinn.” Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t have a woman up here, do you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Serena. You know I’ve never let a woman shower in my place. I was just about to get in.”
Please don’t be in a showering mood.
“So vacation in the island was boring, huh?”

“Awful. No one to rub sun tan lotion on me. Next time, you’re coming with me.”

“Then don’t schedule your vacation during hockey season.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “What does that leave me, three weeks a year? Anyway, I was thinking I’d have dinner with you tonight.”

Oh hell no.

“But I’m not going anywhere with you smelling like that, and I don’t have the time to wait for you to shower.”

There is a God and He likes me just a tiny bit.

“I’m catching a flight to New York in a few hours. I feel the need to do some real shopping. What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Serena locked in on Izzy’s skate bag. “What is that? Are those figure skates?”

Shit.
“Those? Oh some girl left those at the rink after that Make-a-Wish thing. I picked them up from the arena. She’s supposed to pick them up later at the station. In fact, Benny’s coming over in a bit to get them.”

“Ew, Benny. Well, that would explain the ridiculous amount of food you have here.” Serena made a face. “It’s a good thing I’m leaving. You’re a complete pig when I’m not around. I’ll be back next Friday.”

“Friday. Got it.”

“And Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

Serena waved a hand over her nose. “Do something about that smell. I’m not coming back here until you swear to me it’s gone.”

I’ll keep that in mind.

With one more disdainful glance Serena got into the elevator. Quinn exhaled, his shoulders sagging. He stared at the bags of take out on the table.
Not really in the mood for Chinese anymore.
He put the containers in the fridge and dialed the pizza place down the street and ordered a mushroom and sausage.

I should probably make sure she’s okay with that.
Without thinking twice, Quinn tapped at the bathroom door and opened it. “Izzy?”

Thick steam blurred his vision. Over the hiss of water, she responded. “Yeah?”

“I sort of changed my mind. How do you feel about pizza?” He tried very hard to keep his mental image of her clothed.

“Can we get sausage and mushroom?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

Stop trying to see through the steam.
“It’s only my favorite.”

“Okay, great. I’ll be out in a bit. This shower is amazing!”

Yeah, compared to yours, mine is a modern marvel.
“Take your time.”

Reluctantly, he closed the door and finished placing his pizza order. His bedroom seemed chilly after being in the bathroom, so he turned on the fireplace and the television and stretched out on the bed.

Ten minutes later, she emerged, drowning in a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts.

“You look like you feel better.”

Her laughter was light and musical again. “Yeah, nothing cures a major case of the blues than a super hot shower. I do have to say, though, if I’m going to make a habit of changing clothes here…”

“I sort of hope you might.”
Was that too bold? That was too bold for someone trying to take it slow. Yep, I’m not good at taking anything slow.

Izzy blushed, and covered her face quickly under the guise of toweling off her hair. “Anyway, I have to start just keeping a change of clothes with me. Seriously, this is the second time now I feel like some sort of tiny little cartoon character in a normal person’s clothing.” She reached for her comb.

“Here, let me do that.” Quinn took the brush from her. “Sit right here in front of me.” He combed through her wet hair with long, gentle strokes.

“I never pictured you being good at something like this.”

Quinn paused. “My sister had long hair, and hated the way my mom yanked at it when it was wet. I guess I felt sorry for her, so I brushed her hair out once. After that, she begged me to do it every time.” He stared at the strand in his hands. “I did that until I went away to school. Funny, I haven’t thought about that in ages.”

The elevator buzzed. Quinn hopped up. “Stay right there. I’ll get the pizza. And something for your legs that isn’t quite so odiferous.”

Izzy’s laughter followed him all the way to the elevator. Again he handed the doorman a wad of bills.
I’m not counting change when I’ve got Izzy laughing in my bed.

He set the pizza on the bed. “Now, tell me what I can get you to help with the leg pain, because I believe that we both know, as enticing as a mutual rub down sounds, we’re not touching each other with that ointment.”

Izzy opened the pizza box. “Fair enough. Coach had another ‘cure’ but only for the very worst pains.” She picked up a slice and took a bite.

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything vile smelling, I’m intrigued.”

“Well, he’d pour half a glass of red wine, and then he’d put two ice cubes in it. ‘Drink this, Bella,’ he’d say. ‘Drink but tell no one, for telling will cut the power of the cure in half.’ He liked to pretend he was from some foreign country, he’d use this fake accent all the time.”

Quinn laughed out loud. “And how old were you?”

“I think I was fifteen. It was right after Col and I drank that bottle of wine in his office, so he probably figured if I didn’t die from that, I’d be okay.” A wistful smile crossed Izzy’s face. “Talk about not thinking of something in years.”

Chance told me she puts ice cubes in her wine.
“Well, I do believe that’s a painkiller I can work with. Give me a minute.” Quinn returned to the kitchen.
I knew that massive collection of wines I’m not drinking would come in handy.
He opened cabinet. “You said red, right?”

“Yeah. Pinot noir, if you’ve got it.”

“You want pinot noir with ice?”

“Don’t judge me. My coach got me hooked on cold wine, and one of my running partners liked pinot noir, so I just put the two together.” Her giggle was infectious.

Quinn smiled. “I’m not judging. I’m thinking you probably wouldn’t do well as a guest judge on some snooty food and wine tasting show, but hey, when it comes to food and wine, I say, ‘whatever gets you through the meal.’”

“You say that, do you?”

“I do.”

“That would explain why you camouflage everything with mushrooms. But whatever you’ve got, wine-wise, is fine.”

Quinn stared at the wine in his cabinet.
I have four bottles of pinot noir. Four, in a sea of other wines. How in the world do I have this vast a collection of wine?
A vague memory taunted the back of his mind.
Oh yes, wine: the drink of choice for college co-eds who’re trying to be classy for the older guy.

Am I really going back to that part of my history?

No, I’m opening a bottle of wine for a completely age appropriate woman. This won’t turn into anything weird. Okay, it might be weird, but it won’t be sex. It definitely will not be sex.

He poured one glass and dropped two ice cubes into it. Grabbing a can of Vernors’ for himself, he returned to the bed.

“Oh thank you.” She took a sip from the glass and set it on the nightstand. “It’s okay that I’m drinking, if you’re not?”

“It’s perfectly fine. Have a glass. Have three. Let’s see where the night takes us.” He kept his tone light to cover the sudden desire flushing his skin.

This is not how people take it slow.

This just in…I’m terrible at taking it slow.

He stretched out on the bed and cracked open the Vernor’s. “I’ve got my Vernor’s, I’m a very happy guy.”

“Okay.” She took another sip of wine. “So, what’s your big pain killing secret? You’ve got to have something good. Hockey is rough.”

I have a bottle of hydrocodiene left over from my playing days but I’m not touching that, either.
“Well remember, for most of my playing days I numbed my aches and pains over at Chance’s. Nowadays, I have the tried and true: Tylenol.”

“Really?”

“Well, not just plain old Tylenol. Tylenol PM.” He opened his nightstand and pulled out the bottle. “A couple of these,” he opened the bottle and shook out two pills, setting them next to his can, “and I’m sound asleep in about twenty minutes.”

“I’m familiar with the product, but I’ll stay with the wine for now.” She stretched and rolled her feet and groaned. “Did I have this much pain when I was training? I don’t remember any of this hurting so much. I must be old.”

“You’re not old. Tell you what.” Quinn finished a piece of pizza. “You keep sipping that watery cold wine, and I’ll rub your legs. I used to go out with a trainer who taught me a few things.”
And someday, when we aren’t taking it slow, I will share those things with you. Tonight I rub your feet.

“You are way too good of a guy, Quinn Murray.”

“Most people would not agree with you.”

“Most people don’t know you.”

Most people know what a complete bastard I am.

***

She didn’t miss the awkward pause. It hung between them, a void she wanted to fill, but Quinn seemed disconnected, distant. He kept his eyes locked on her foot.

“I’m serious, you know. You’ve been so wonderful to me.”

“You make it easy.” He didn’t look at her. “Not everyone has your ability to bring out the best in people.”

There was a note of warning in his voice, something subtle, dark.
I’m not digging any deeper.
Izzy took another sip. “So, Sports Center?”

“You want something else?”

“No, it’s fine.” She finished the wine and set the glass on the nightstand. “I need to get going anyway.”
Before I decide this is just way too comfortable.

Quinn shifted from her foot to her calf.
Okay,
one more minute.
Her eyes fluttered closed. The wine and his hands had an electric effect on her.
I can’t stay.