Razors Ice 04 - Hot Ice (2 page)

Cody
started to laugh, but one look at Jace and he knew his teammate was serious.

Jace pushed his plate away and stood up.
It was time to leave this scene in the dust.

“Jace, don’t leave in a pissy mood
,” Cody pleaded, still waiting for his refill.

“Can’t stay
,” Jace replied gruffly. “I’ve got an appointment. See you bastards later.”

Jace
grabbed a coffee to go and strode out of the restaurant and into the blustery winter day.

Chapter Two

Check Engine

In the middle of downtown Red Valley, Violet James’ Volkswagen
Jetta began to sputter and cough. Frantically she scanned the street for a parking space and, with a little help from the nearly gale force wind, coasted into a vacant spot next to the curb just as the engine died.

She looked at the dash for some indication of what was wrong, but all the ga
uges played dead. Groaning, she turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened.

“Great,” she muttered and banged her head against the steering wheel.
Why did the worst things always happen when you were already running late?

When she looked up, the
‘check engine’ light flickered and then the little gas pump light lit up.

“Ah, now you tell me,” she
groaned, blaming the light.

Despite having a
handy dandy little gas level gage that was specifically for the sole purpose of warning her about her tank level, Violet was officially out of gas.

Mondays really were the worst day of the week.

How could she be so stupid? She normally didn’t forget important things like keeping her car filled with gas. But in Violet’s defense, Patricia did have her running around town like a chicken with its head cut off. When Violet had agreed to go into business with her best friend, she had no idea Pats would rule with an unwavering iron fist and enforce an inflexible schedule of appointments.

Violet glared at the gas light on
the dashboard. Too bad she’d decided
not
to spring for the roadside assistance coverage on her auto insurance policy. The extra five bucks a month didn’t seem like such a waste of money now.

There was only one thing left to do.
Violet dug her phone out of her purse, bit the bullet and dialed Patricia’s number.

“Hello, you’ve reached Patricia
Liles of Healing Touch Massage Therapy…”

With a heavy sigh,
Violet disconnected the call. It was no use. When Patricia didn’t answer her phone, it usually meant she was with a client. Then again, when
wasn’t
she with a client? She kept the appointment book at Healing Touch scheduled to the max. But thanks to Patricia’s perseverance, their massage business was working its way out of the red. They were doing so well that Violet could finally afford a vacation. That is,
if
Patricia let her clear her schedule long enough to take one. Fat chance.

Just in case Lady Luck was on her side
this morning, Violet tried to start the car one more time. Nope. Out of sheer determination and probably a dash of spite, the gas light continued to glow. No pennies from heaven today.

Violet contemplated
the other people in her life whom she could call for help. Her parents were out of town celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary and her three brothers were scattered all over the country. Jeremy was on tour with his band, Brayden was in Sacramento scoping out classic cars for the family business and Tanner was most likely elbow deep in a game of blackjack at the newly remodeled casino in Baker’s Bluff. Violet wouldn’t call her brothers anyway because they’d never let her hear the end of it. And frankly, Tanner was just as unreliable as her gas gage.

That only left
one person.

Phillip.

No freakin’ way
. Violet would rather walk a hundred miles in the cold bone-rattling wind than call Phillip Krandall for help. Even if he did drop everything to help her—which he most definitely would not—she’d have to hear all about how irresponsible she was and how she regularly shrugged her responsibilities—which she most certainly did not, thank you very much. She most definitely was not in the mood for her fiancé’s holier-than-thou attitude and longwinded lectures.

Lord knows, s
he didn’t need one more reason to question their strained relationship. Doubts about Phillip were already accumulating like dirty laundry in a frat house.

Left with no other choice,
Violet grabbed her purse and swung open the car door. The wind disagreed and slammed the door shut, nearly smashing her fingers in the process. Violet yelped and sat back in the seat. This was not going to end well. Her office was at least three or four miles away and she might blow away before she even got there. Too bad she’d forgotten to wear her cement shoes today.

Just in case
her luck had changed during the last ten seconds, Violet tried Patricia’s number again. Nope. No answer. She wracked her brain for an alternative, but there just wasn’t one. She was going to have to battle the wind and hoof it.

Violet
looked down at her thin windbreaker and even thinner polo shirt underneath. Windbreaker, huh? She’d see about that. She zipped up the jacket and a few inches up, the zipper decided to stick. She tugged and tugged and then the bottom section under the zipper split open. She pulled the zipper back down and tried again. Same thing. Instead of zipping the jacket closed, she was zipping it open. This was just her luck.

Giving up
the ghost, she left the jacket halfway zipped—which was better than nothing—and took a deep breath. On the count of three, she pried the door open and climbed out of the car. Instantly, the fierce wind cut through the thin jacket and froze her to the bone. She pulled the windbreaker closed and secured it the only way she could by folding her arms across her chest.

The sidewalks were deserted and she half expected to see a tumbleweed blow across the street.
She was glad she hadn’t worn a skirt today or she’d definitely be having a Marilyn Monroe moment a la
The Seven Year Itch
right about now.

Granules of sand pelted her
face and eyes. After walking a few feet, her nose and ears felt like they were going to break off.

Violet
clutched the windbreaker around her body, put her head down and began the long trudge down the street toward the nearest gas station.

* * *

Jace stepped out of the downtown coffee shop and into the freezing February wind. Burr, it was nippy outside. Red Valley, California was notorious for its sweltering hot summers, cold winters and generally unpredictable weather. It was the perfect location for a hockey team. Good ice in the winter and plenty of local recreational opportunities during the off-season.

Speaking of recreational opportunities,
Jace thought to himself, he obviously wasn’t taking advantage of them in the same way his teammates were. It was easy to blame his crazy schedule during the season or his various injuries, but the simple truth was that he just couldn’t shake the bad taste his ex-wife Simone had left him with—even if it was for a quick no-strings-attached roll in the hay.

Jace looked across the street at his SUV
parked at the curb and the wind whipped through his hair. Man, it really was cold outside this morning. He was glad he’d found a parking spot near the café and didn’t have to hoof it from the public parking lot a block away.

Just before he decided to make a break for
his vehicle, a movement to his right caught his eye. Glancing over, he saw a woman walking toward him on the sidewalk. She looked frozen solid from trudging into the wind and was rubbing her bare hands together in a futile attempt to create warmth. It was easy to tell she hadn’t dressed with a morning stroll in mind. Between her lightweight windbreaker and thin khaki pants, no amount of rubbing was going to penetrate the numbing wind chill factor.

Jace
hissed out a breath.

Rubbing? Penetrate?
Damn his teammates. Now he had sex on the brain.

As she
came closer, Jace eyed the curvy body the woman’s windbreaker was doing nothing to hide. Despite the wind, her stride was confident and her hips swayed with the kind of sensual rhythm that made Jace swallow hard. He could definitely see himself enjoying some recreational activities with a woman like that.

When the woman
was within earshot, Jace smiled warmly at her and narrowed his eyes. “Good morning,” he said, the wind blowing his words in her direction.

S
he continued walking by him, not breaking her stride.

Distress plus damsel equaled…well, Jace didn’t know what it equaled, but he couldn’t stand by and watch someone struggle, especially in the freezing cold.

He turned on his heel and asked her backside, “Hey, do you need a ride?”

* * *

When she realized the man was speaking to her, Violet stopped mid-step and spun around. “Huh?” she asked, her breath coming out in a white puff that the wind greedily snatched away. It was nice having the wind at her back, if even for a brief moment while she found out what the man wanted.

Before he could speak, a
gust of wind pushed her toward him. To stop from being pushed smack dab into his chest, she put on the brakes, her toes digging into the sidewalk.

When he closed the distance between them, she
looked into his blue eyes. Wow, those were the kind of eyes you only saw looking down on you from a movie screen. The kind that raised more questions than answers.

The wind made her wobble and h
e reached out and grabbed her elbow to steady her. “Would you like a ride?” he asked. He was holding a paper coffee cup and the steam swirled from the cup, mocking her.

His hand was still on her elbow and he released it when she steadied herself. The wind whipped her hair into her mouth and he reached out to brush the strands away. The movement was much too intimate to share with a stranger on the sidewalk.

Violet shook away any inappropriate feelings of warmth and intimacy and took a step back. The wind pushed at her back, trying to make her falter again, but she held her ground and pushed the hair from her face.

“
A ride? Oh, uh…no thanks,” she answered, pulling her coat tighter around her body. She silently cursed her jacket’s faulty zipper. What was the world coming to? Zippers—not to mention gas gages—had only one function to perform. And today, she was 0 for 2.

She
took another step back from the could-be criminal. Hey, a girl couldn’t be too careful, even when a man was as attractive as this guy was.

“You sure?”
he asked, looking up at the white sky. “It’s not exactly walking weather.” He gave her his best smile and shoved his free hand into the pocket of his expensive-looking coat.

“I’m just going a couple of blocks
,” Violet told him.

He nodded, but made no move to walk away.

Since he didn’t seem to be in a hurry, Violet considered his offer and tilted her head to look him over. He didn’t
look
like a criminal. In fact, he looked oddly familiar like she’d seen him before, but she couldn’t quite pin-point exactly where. He looked too athletic to be a movie star and what would a celebrity be doing in downtown Red Valley in the middle of winter anyway?

Although he wasn’t trying to look wealthy on purpose, he
looked it all the same. His shoes looked expensive, his jeans designer, and his coat was definitely not off the rack. He looked casual, but in an “I could walk right onto a photo shoot and fit in” sort of way.

He had jet black hair that was not too long
and not too short, broad shoulders, and a muscular chest. If it weren’t for the scar near his mouth, he might have been
too
good looking. The scar pumped up his masculinity several more notches and added a roughness to his looks. And the more the wind mussed up his hair, the sexier it looked.

When her gaze reached his eyes,
Violet looked into them, searching. For what, she didn’t know. They were beautiful eyes. An intense blue, the color of the ocean around those beautiful remote islands that no one but celebrities could afford to travel to. Then Violet noticed that those eyes were,
gulp
, looking back at her. Instantly she flushed because he’d caught her right in the middle of her ogle-fest and there was nothing she could do about it.

His full lips turned up into a smile and she
couldn’t help but smile back.

She blinked the grit from her eyes
and cleared the lust from her throat. “Okay,” she said with a shrug. “I could use a ride.”

The cold must have frozen over the part of her brain where she knew she wasn’t supposed to accept rides
in cars with strange men. But the thing was, there was absolutely nothing strange about the man on the sidewalk in front of her. Sexy and potent, yes, but definitely nothing strange.

“I’m parked right over here
,” he told her and started across the street.

She followed
him, shivering from the cold and unrelenting wind. “I appreciate this.” She barely finished her sentence when she noticed the black vehicle the remote on his keychain had unlocked. It was the Porsche’s version of an SUV, the Cayenne Turbo. Violet’s eyes widened and she whistled. “Sweet ride.”

This man could be anyone, but she took comfort in the fact that at least he didn’t drive a van with blacked-out windows.
A Porsche she could justify.