Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) (7 page)

“How did you enjoy the music?” He stepped close and brushed her cheek with a brief kiss, the contact not nearly as satisfying as pulling her into his arms. But it would have to do in the full room with Nathalie standing there watching them.

“It was wonderful.”

She smiled up at him, no signs of the frown he’d seen earlier. He hunted her expression, just to be sure, but she seemed OK now.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said.

“Thank you for coming. You ready to eat?”

“Always.”

Nathalie patted her arm again. “Have fun tonight. And don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

Ann sighed and nodded without saying more.

Brody raised his brows in question, but neither woman elaborated and Semenov chose that moment to join them.

They said their goodnights, then made their way to the street for a taxi.

On their way to the restaurant, Brody debated bringing up the exchange between Ann and Nathalie. She’d looked upset, though as they talked on the way to the restaurant, she seemed comfortable and relaxed. He didn’t want to ruin that mood, but concern nagged at him.

By the time they got to the restaurant—a different Mexican place with the second best food in the city that he’d tried so far—he’d mostly convinced himself to let it go and just enjoy the meal with her. If she wanted to tell him about it, she would.

Watching her eat was almost as seductive as kissing her. He suspected there was something wrong with him, that he enjoyed the pleasure she took from food so much. He didn’t care. Ann Bell smiling was the best thing ever. Ann smiling and sighing over her food, better than that.

“You and Nat seem to be getting closer,” he commented as he savored his chicken mole. “Must be interesting having a new sister you didn’t grow up with?”

“She’s fantastic. I’m really glad we’re getting to know each other finally. My parents wouldn’t approve, but…” She made a little gesture with her fork before diving back into her fajita salad.

“Why wouldn’t they approve?” he asked.

She hadn’t told him a lot about her parents yet. The basics—her mother was a stay-at-home mom, her father a preacher, both very involved in the church. But he knew there was a lot more there after the vague hint Nat had dropped about being glad she didn’t look like her mother.

“My mother left Nathalie’s father,” Ann said quietly. “She didn’t… She didn’t approve of their religion.”

Ah. That explained the tension. It was common knowledge that Nathalie was a green witch, though he’d never had a chance to discuss her religion with her, as she was so private. He was curious and would have loved that conversation. But not everyone understood the neo-pagan religions. Too many people assumed devil worship even though Wiccans and other neo-pagans didn’t even believe in that devil. Since Ann’s mother had gone on to marry an evangelical preacher, Brody had to assume Mrs. Bell was one of those who saw the devil where there was none.

“So she thought Nat would be a bad influence on you?” he asked.

Ann shrugged, her gaze focused on her food. “I’m not sure she even considered that I’d want to know Nathalie.” She drew a small circle in her rice with her fork. “I don’t have another sister, just two younger brothers. And they’re more like my parents.”

“How so?”

“Religious. Extremely religious.”

He frowned a little. “How extreme is extreme?”

“
Extreme
. Fanatical.” She shook her head and scooped up some guacamole on a chip. “They don’t understand why I want to study genetics.”

“Because it’s a cool field of science,” he said, making sure to use the matter-of-fact tone that amused her. He was rewarded for his efforts with her soft smile.

“I’m glad you think so. It’s nice talking with someone outside work who actually understands.”

“I love that you entertain my alien genetics questions.”

She chuckled, the sound making his muscle tense and his heart pound. God he loved when she laughed. And because he loved it so much, he steered the conversation away from her family and back to easier topics.

“I’m sorry you missed the ice skating today,” he said. “It was a great event.”

“I would have spent most of it on my backside anyway.”

“I like your backside. I’d never let you damage it.”

She blushed, and it was all he could do not to pull her across the table for a kiss.

“How about a rain check on the skating,” he said. “I’d still like to teach you.” Mostly because it would be an excellent excuse to keep his hands on her.

“It could be hazardous.” She smiled when she said it, but the smile dropped away suddenly, and she looked back at her plate.

“I’ll take my chances.” Brody frowned at her sudden mood shift.

She made a noncommittal noise and shoveled food into her mouth.

“I promise to take care of you on the ice,” he said seriously.

She nodded but didn’t meet his gaze.

Worry tightened in his stomach again, worry he couldn’t explain, but it kept coming back to poke at him. Something there…something she wasn’t saying. The fact that she was keeping something from him, something that kept putting that distressed expression in her eyes, bothered him a lot. Every competitive, curious bone in his body wanted to push her for answers.

But another part of him just wanted to see her smile again.

That part won out. He moved on to a topic he knew would keep the grin on her face. Food. To his relief, she relaxed again, and he breathed a little easier.

Once the main course dishes were whisked away, they ordered coffees and one dessert to share.

“You’re in training,” she said primly.

Which made him chuckle. “That has never been a reason to give up dessert.”

“I’m having a lot of fun tonight, Brody. Thanks.”

“Told you I was fun.”

She smiled. “Good thing I turned out not to be a psychotic killer, huh?”

He chuckled. But the reference to their first meeting was yet another reminder that she was hiding something. He tried to ignore his nagging curiosity. Every time they veered toward the subject, she shut down on him. He wanted to keep things easy and light. He wanted her relaxed.

Yet concern that whatever she was keeping from him might be serious, and could affect their growing relationship, was like a spur in his heal. He couldn’t seem to let it go.

“Can I ask a question?” he said, then wanted to bite his tongue.

“Sure.”

He took a deep breath and dived in. “Why did I have to wait a week to call you after our first date? You told Nathalie she could give me your number, but then you asked me wait. Why?”

Her face closed up instantly, and that little crease between her brows reappeared. He cursed silently and with a lot of feeling. Damn it. He’d known that would happen. He shouldn’t have brought it up. But he couldn’t take it back now either.

“What did Nathalie tell you about that?” she asked.

“Nothing. She said I should ask you. Although, judging by your reaction, I’m not sure that was such a hot idea.”

She forced a half-smile, but it fell away quickly. “I can’t…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Boyfriend? Ex-husband? Ex-girlfriend? Stalker? Current husband? IRS? Mob?”

Her frown turned to the adorably confused expression he loved. That felt like a minor win.

She shook off his list of possibilities. “Nothing like that. It’s personal, though.”

He desperately wanted to know the truth, to ask the next logical question. But watching her face close up was worse than not knowing. His knee-jerk reaction was to make a joke of the whole thing and move on, as he’d been doing all evening.

It still bothered him, though. He had a feeling whatever had happened in that week was important enough to get between him and Ann.

“Personal…in that you don’t want to talk to me about it yet?” he asked, trying to balance his curiosity against caution.

“We’ve been on exactly four dates. We met less than a month ago. We’re nowhere near the stage where I can tell you everything about me.” She looked down at the table, toying with her coffee cup. “Not sure I’ll ever be at that stage.”

She murmured the last so quietly, he wasn’t sure she was talking to him anymore. His heart hurt at her desolate tone. He could practically feel the loneliness in it, and that tore at him because she didn’t have to be lonely. Even if things didn’t work out between them, she was too wonderful to be alone.

“Well, I have secrets, too, you know,” he said, defaulting to light humor, hoping to erase the sadness in her expression. He just couldn’t take it anymore. “Deep, dark secrets.”

Her lips quirked up. “You? I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“You put everything out on the surface. I’m not sure you could keep a secret if you wanted to.”

“That’s not true.” He purposely infused his voice with exaggerated offense. “I have a big secret.”

“Really? And that would be?”

He leaned across the table, looking left and right before focusing on her. “I have an extensive collection of romantic comedy movies,” he whispered.

Her laughter bubbled out in a short burst. The sound settled his nerves and sent a wave a pleasure through him.

She shook her head. “First of all, I’m not sure why that’s a secret.”

“I’m a big, mean hockey player. I can’t be caught with a rom-com collection.”

Truthfully, he didn’t care, and he was pretty sure she realized that since they talked about his romance novel collection all the time. But he liked that the humor had returned to her expression. He was willing to say whatever it took to keep it there.

She snorted. “Second of all,” she said, “you’ve just confirmed you’re terrible at keeping secrets.”

“OK. You got me. But I can keep one if necessary. I mean, you should hear the stuff I know about my brother.”

She laughed. “If you tell me, will he be upset?”

“Hell, yeah. It’ll tarnish your view of him before you’ve even met him. Wait, I like that idea. OK, so this one time, when we were six years old…” He went on to tell her some of the most embarrassing stories he could remember about his twin—one of which was actually his own embarrassing moment, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

By the time he was finished, she was grinning, chuckling, and a few times had laughed heartily. He made a mental note not to ask about that first week again. At least not until he was more sure of their relationship.

Realizing he wanted a relationship with Ann wasn’t particularly shocking. He’d barely been able to think of anything else since meeting her. He
liked
Ann. A lot. And not just because he found her adorable and sexy. He enjoyed spending time with her and wanted more. As much as she’d give him.

But that first week, the mystery around it, felt like a threat hanging over their heads, just waiting to destroy the good thing they had going.

And there didn’t seem to be a damned thing he could do about it.

Ann waved her arms about trying to catch her balance, teetering precariously on the thin line of steel that was supposed to be holding her upright. She flailed, backpedaled, and would have dropped hard onto the ice, but Brody’s strong arms caught her around the waist.

Cheerful music blared through the air as skaters with significantly better skills than she had swirled past. The Bryant Park open air rink was full of people laughing and shouting, gliding and spinning over the ice. The November air was brisk, but the day was bright and sunny. Around the rink, adorable wooden house stalls that made up the holiday market lined the park’s stone paths.

The atmosphere was cheerful, the air filled with scents of delicious sweets, cinnamon, and the exquisite meals being served at the open-air, two-story restaurant set up at the corner of the rink. On the opposite side, the long, white tent where the skates were stored and people waited for their session on the ice glowed as brightly in the sun as the ice itself.

Ann glared down at her skates as she clung onto Brody for dear life. This would be a lot more fun if they were sitting outside the rink, drinking hot chocolate, and watching other people fall on their asses.

“This is impossible,” she said.

Brody laughed. “You’ll get the hang of it. You just need more practice.”

She made a face. “Right.”

Despite her worry about melting the rink, she had agreed to let Brody try teaching her how to ice skate. Her “headache” excuse last time had had nothing to do with a headache and everything to do with the terrible training session she’d had the day before with Nathalie’s father, Mr. Mendez.

They were trying to teach her how to start the fire on purpose and control it, an effort that went against everything she’d spent her life trying to do. She’d failed miserably. And repeatedly. The session had gone so badly, she’d been sure if she went to the ice rink the next day, she’d turn it into a swimming pool. And then hurt Brody when he tried to help her. The thought of hurting him—or having him see her fire and turn away from her like she was cursed—was too much to take.

But she’d known she’d disappointed him by not showing up. She hated doing that. Hated that the fire kept interfering. So when he’d declared their next date would be ice skating, she’d given in.

In truth, she wanted to prove to herself she could manage it. And she’d worked her ass off during the week in between their last date and this one to ensure she could keep her hands cool.

Starting the fire on purpose, controlling it to that degree… Well, she still had a lot of work to do there. But for now, she was determined to have this date, this experience without hurting anyone.

Or ending up in a swimming pool instead of an ice rink.

She hadn’t realized how hard the actual skating would be, though. Her legs wobbled again, even though she wasn’t moving, and she tightened her grip on Brody.

“Didn’t you ever try this as a kid?” he asked.

“I grew up in Texas. When would I have bothered with ice skating?”

He eased her away from the support of his big body so she had to stand on the skates again. Her ankles felt like rubber as she tried to find a way to balance.