Holiday on Ice Read online

  "Okay, now you're pushing all my happy decorating buttons. Are you sure you know what you're getting into?"

  "Probably not, but let's do it anyway. We'll get something to eat and then do this tree thing."

  "You're on."

  Several hours later they'd made multiple stops--first to her apartment so she could change clothes, then to eat because they were hungry. After that they'd gone to the tree lot. She and Trick had chosen a perfect medium-sized tree that was to be delivered, giving them enough time to hit the store and pick out lights and tree decorations. She'd put Trick in charge of choosing a tree topper and he'd come back with a box that he refused to show her, saying it was a surprise.

  She only hoped it wasn't a hockey player tree topper. Then again, it was his tree so she supposed he could have whatever he wanted. She was still surprised he'd gone along with the idea at all.

  They got back to his place at just the right time. They'd barely put their bags down and set up the tree stand in between the entry and living room when the doorman announced the tree delivery. Two guys brought up the tree and placed it in the stand. Trick tipped them and they were off.

  The tree looked great in the living room, and smelled so good. Like pine and Christmas. It was already an improvement to his apartment.

  After placing some water in the stand, Stella turned to Trick. "Ready to decorate?"

  "You're in charge. Let's do this."

  Trick strung the lights and Stella supervised, telling him when they were off balance or where there was a gap. They worked well together, and, once the lights were up, they put the ornaments on, bumping into each other when they rounded the back of the tree.

  "No, this one should go higher up," she said, eyeing his placement.

  "You're crazy. There's already a bunch up here. I'm putting it lower."

  She shook her head. "Too clustered. And you're putting too many in the front. We need balance."

  "No one's going to see the ones in the back anyway."

  She paused to look at him. "See, everyone thinks that, but it's not true. The back of the tree should never be sparse. Ornaments should be evenly distributed."

  He took a step back. "I'm going to go grab something to drink and leave you in charge of finishing this up."

  She gave him a side eye. "Is this your way of making me finish the decorating?"

  "Yup," he said as he walked toward the kitchen. "Want some tea?"

  "That sounds good."

  There weren't that many ornaments left to be put on anyway, so she inspected the tree and decided where she wanted them to go and finished up, then walked back a few steps to inspect the tree from a distance, making sure there weren't any gaps she'd missed. Satisfied, she put the lids on all the boxes.

  "Where do you want these?" she asked as Trick came back with two glasses of tea.

  He set the cups down on the table. "Let me takes those. I'll put them in the spare bedroom closet."

  "I'll help."

  They put all the boxes away, then came back into the living room. Stella picked up her tea and took a couple sips. Who knew tree decorating could make her so thirsty?

  She sat on the sofa and admired the tree, then frowned. "Oh, the tree topper. We forgot that."

  "That's right. Let me go get it."

  He set his cup down and went into the other room and came back with a box. "I think you're going to like this."

  "It's a hockey player, isn't it?"

  He stilled, his hands on the lid. "There are hockey player tree toppers? How did I not know this?"

  She laughed. "I don't know if there are or not. I just figured that would be appropriate for your tree."

  "It's not really my tree, Stella. It's your tree."

  Her heart squeezed. "What?"

  "You wanted this tree. It's for you. So's the topper. Close your eyes."

  "Trick."

  He gave her a look. "Close your eyes."

  "Fine."

  She shut her eyes and waited. And thought. Her tree? This was his apartment, not hers. So it most definitely was not her Christmas tree.

  "You can look now."

  She opened her eyes, and lifted her gaze to the top of the tree.

  And gasped. She set her tea down and got up, went over to the tree and tilted her head back.

  There, on his tree top, was a beautiful blonde ballerina, dressed in pink tulle, her hands in artful grace, her toes en pointe. She was twirling around in circles, with the "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" from The Nutcracker playing.

  She was mesmerized. She'd danced to this music, back when she danced ballet. The memories it evoked were thick, reminded her why she loved to dance. And the dancing angel? Breathtaking.

  "This? Really? So not a guy's tree topper."

  He looked up at it, then at her. "She reminds me of you with her short blonde hair and her blue eyes and that froufrou dancing outfit, even though I know that's not what you wear. But still, I saw it and thought of you and thought she'd be perfect for the tree."

  Her heart was crumbling at his feet. Goddamn him for doing this to her, for making her feel things she hadn't wanted to feel for a man. Not ever again.

  Hell, she'd never felt this way about any man before.

  She lifted her gaze to his. "It's beautiful. Thank you for thinking of me."

  "You're welcome. Now, that wasn't too painful, was it?"

  He had no idea. "I guess not. Are you sure your friends won't make fun of you when they see it?"

  He laughed. "They probably will, but I think I can take the heat."

  She stared up at the dancing angel again. "I love her."

  He wasn't looking at the angel, but at her. "So do I."

  Inhaling on a shaky breath, she said, "Well. What now?"

  "Isn't it obvious?"

  "Not to me."

  "Now we go out and play in the snow."

  "You are out of your ever-loving mind. It's nice and warm in here."

  "I know. But we had some great snow yesterday. Where's your sense of adventure?"

  "My sense of adventure is here. In your warm apartment. Besides, we already went out. We chose a tree. Outside. Isn't that enough?"

  "No." He looked her over. "You're dressed warm enough and you have boots on. It'll do. Grab your coat and stuff."

  She was not going to get out of this. "Okay, fine. But if you throw me in a snow pile, it's over between us."

  "Jesus, Stella, I'm not twelve."

  Maybe she was being too harsh. Or too suspicious. More likely she just didn't want to go out in the cold and the snow again. But Trick had been so sweet about the tree topper, she was going to be a sport about playing outside with him.

  "Fine. We'll go."

  "Good. And we'll have fun."

  "Sure we will."

  She thought they'd grab a taxi outside. Instead, he took her hand in his and they started walking. The streets and sidewalks had been cleared, and she had to admit, the snow was pretty. It was cold, but walking kept her warm. Plus, she had her hat, gloves, and a scarf on, so it wasn't like she was freezing or anything.

  "Where are we going, exactly?" she asked after they entered Central Park.

  He looked over at her and gave her a secretive smile. "I told you. To play."

  With it being Saturday, the park was filled with kids as well as adults. The bare trees were a stark landscape against the as-of-yet undisturbed pure white snow that had piled up along the rocks and hills of the park. It was a gorgeous backdrop and she wished she had thought to bring her camera with her to grab some shots. She did have her phone, though, so she stopped to take a few pictures as they strolled along. Trick even asked one of the passersby to take a photo of the two of them on one of the bridges. He'd pulled her against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder. She looked at the shot and thanked the person for taking the picture.

  It was a good photo of the two of them.

  "We look good together, don't we?" he asked as he looked at it with her.

>   "Yes, we do." She'd left her knit cap on, but wisps of her hair peeked out and her cheeks were pink from the cold. Trick had a hat on, too, but he looked rugged and oh so handsome in his pea coat, and she looked like she belonged in his arms.

  Whatever. Just a picture. She was making too much of it. It had just been a long time since she'd had a picture of her and a guy.

  When he stopped at the ice rink, he turned to her. "Feel like a little skating?"

  She wondered if he thought she'd balk. "Sure."

  "Do you know how to skate?"

  "Yes, I know how to skate." She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the entrance. "Come on."

  They rented skates, and without even waiting for Trick, Stella glided out onto the ice.

  She twirled around, taking in the feeling of freedom she got on the rink. It had been a couple of years since she'd been skating, and as she took a lap, she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed it. It was so much like dancing, the movement of her legs, the sense of creation she felt as she directed her skates along the ice. As she made her way back to the rink entrance, Trick came out and joined her, slipping his arm around her waist. She lifted her gaze to his and smiled, and the two of them danced around the rink, their bodies close together. Here, he wasn't the tough hockey player. He was hers. And it wasn't a game, it was a dance on skates. Their bodies glided effortlessly together, in tune with one another.

  "You're good at this," he said.

  "You seem surprised."

  He took her hands and, as he skated backward, because the ice was home to him, he swept her in a circle. "I am surprised."

  "I skated all the time when I was a kid. When I took dancing lessons, I envisioned myself as a figure skater someday."

  He skated around her, then came up behind her, sliding his arms alongside hers. "I could see you in those short skater outfits, doing flips in the air."

  She leaned against him and let him lead her on the ice. "You could, huh? You're pretty awesome on the ice yourself. There's a lyrical way to your movement."

  He stared at her. "Really? I thought I looked kind of tough."

  "Trust me, you are tough. But there's also a beauty to the way you move on the ice."

  "Thanks. Never saw myself as pretty on the ice, though."

  "I didn't say pretty. I said there's a beauty to your movement. It's the dancer in me. Anyway, we're both good on the ice. Maybe we could do pairs. Or ice dancing."

  He laughed, the sound of it rumbling against her back. "No dancing for me. I'm a klutz."

  "Maybe on the dance floor, but on the ice? You know the ice." She swiveled in his arms, then assumed the dance position, taking his hand and sliding her other hand to his shoulder. "Come dance with me. You lead, I'll follow."

  She thought he'd balk, but he pushed forward, and suddenly, they were dancing, her following his lead as they glided across the surface. There was music playing, and she lost herself in the song and the feel of the man beside her.

  The man could dance. At least on the ice. He twirled her, pulling her tight against him, then pushing her out, the two of them in sync like nothing she'd ever felt before. She was giddy, laughing, and suddenly they had an audience as people stopped to watch.

  It wasn't like they were Olympic-level ice dancers or anything. They weren't that good. It was likely that hockey fans recognized Trick. She didn't care. She was having more fun than she could ever remember either dancing or skating.

  It had to be the man, because Trick wasn't paying any attention to the gathering crowd. He was only looking at her, and it wasn't in a sexual way. It was a deeper connection, the kind of way a man looked at a woman when he . . .

  She stumbled, and he caught her. She covered by laughing and falling against him.

  "Okay, so maybe the Olympics won't be calling on us to join their ice-dancing team," she said, lifting her gaze to his.

  Whatever spell had wound around them had broken. Their audience clapped, and it was as if Trick had noticed them for the first time. He looked around, smiled and nodded, then wrapped an arm around her and they resumed normal skating.

  "Yeah, I don't think I'm cut out for dancing on the ice. My style is a little more aggressive, and I'm a lot more comfortable with a stick in my hand and a puck to chase after. But you're a great dancer on or off the ice."

  She shifted, skating in front of him. "And how would you know that since you haven't seen me dance yet?"

  "Call it intuition. And I have seen the way you move your body." He waggled his brows.

  She rolled her eyes. "Not at all the same thing."

  "Isn't it?" He gave her a very knowing look.

  "Trust me. Sex and dancing aren't at all the same."

  "I guess I'll have to watch you dance sometime. Then I'll draw my own conclusions."

  "You do that."

  They skated for another half hour or so, an exhilarating workout. Then they called it quits and left the ice.

  "That was fun. Thanks for taking me," she said as they started their walk back to Trick's apartment.

  "You're welcome. You need to get out and play more often."

  They came across a group of kids playing in the snow pack on the sidewalk. One of them recognized Trick, so he stopped to talk with them.

  Stella stood back and observed. Trick was a natural with kids. He wasn't condescending, didn't act like a superstar. He was just a regular guy around the boys. And when one of the kids hit his buddies with a snowball, Trick got into the middle of all of it, like he was one of them.

  She laughed at it, until Trick bundled up a snowball and aimed it in her direction. She shrieked and tried to hide, but he ran her down and smacked her in the back with a soft snowball.

  Then it was on, and they found themselves in the middle of a snowball war with the kids. Before long several more kids in the neighborhood joined in. Stella had never laughed so hard as she lofted one snowball after the other. These kids were good, obviously having gotten a lot more practice than either she or Trick. Trick was definitely a target--a rather large one--something he didn't seem to mind at all. Removing herself from the fray, she took pictures of the major battle, laughing at the same time as one of the kids hit Trick with a snowball to the back of the head.

  They finally extricated themselves from the bombardment and said good-bye to the kids, making their way back to his apartment.

  "I'm pretty sure one of those snowballs landed inside the back of my coat," she said as she hung it up, then pulled off her boots. "I'm all wet."

  "But you had fun, didn't you?"

  She still had a smile on her face. "I did. It reminded me of building snow forts with Greta when we were kids."

  "Yeah, my sister and I used to do the same thing. Coffee?" he asked as they made their way into the kitchen.

  "Definitely."

  He brewed them each a cup, and took the cream out of the refrigerator for her.

  "Thanks."

  He laid his cup down, then went over and turned on the Christmas tree lights before taking a seat on the sofa next to her.

  "Looks good there," he said.

  She stared up at the dancing angel, still so surprised he'd thought of her when he'd bought it. She didn't know what to make of it--or of him. Or of their relationship.

  Dammit. There was that word again, the one she so religiously avoided.

  "Yeah, it looks good."

  "You and I should spend Christmas together."

  She nearly choked on her sip of coffee. She shifted to face him. "What?"

  "You said you weren't going home, and your parents won't be coming here. We should spend Christmas together."

  Christmas together? She waited for the panic to clutch her around the throat.

  Nothing came. It always did when some guy asked her for anything that felt remotely like a commitment. And spending a holiday together was a commitment. It was a relationship.

  But Trick wasn't just some guy. He was becoming more than that.

  She waited again
for the terror, the need to end things, to run as far and as fast as she could.

  Nothing. Still, she was going to have to handle this whole thing delicately.

  "I told you Greta's coming for Christmas."

  "Yeah. So we'll all hang out. I'll cook a turkey. She can adore this awesome tree."

  He made it sound so simple. It wasn't. Not to her, anyway. "I'll give it some thought."

  "You do that."

  "Okay, well, I should go."

  "You don't want to stay?" He moved over and slid his arms around her waist. "I thought we'd have dinner and you might want to hang out. I could cook for you. Then rub your feet later."

  He waggled his brows, the invitation quite clear.

  He was almost the perfect man, which meant there had to be something lurking under the exterior. Some bomb he'd drop later to break her heart. She didn't trust her own instincts, not after the nightmare she'd endured the last time.

  She laid her palms on his chest. "Tempting as that sounds, the only time I have to do laundry and grocery shopping and clean my apartment is on the weekend. So, sadly, duty calls."

  He took a step back. "Gotcha. Some other time."

  "Definitely."

  He didn't even pout when he didn't get his way or she couldn't spend time with him.

  See? Too perfect.

  She gathered her things and put on her coat.

  "I ordered a taxi for you," he said. "Should be outside waiting for you."

  "Thanks."

  He tugged on the lapels of her coat, drawing her toward him so he could kiss her. She fell into the kiss, against the heat of his body as he swept his hands inside her coat.

  She could so easily get lost in him, in the way his lips moved over hers, and forget all her rules about not letting her heart get involved. But her steely resolve had protected her all these years, and for a good reason.

  She pulled back. "I guess I'll see you after your game Monday?"

  "Yup. Don't work too hard." He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, and that steely resolve melted a little. Inhaling a shaky breath, she moved away from him and grabbed her bag.

  He walked her to the door. "Be careful out there."

  "I will. Bye."

  She went downstairs and, just as Trick said, there was a taxi waiting for her. She climbed in and gave the driver her address, then leaned back, already wishing she was still with Trick.

  She'd had fun with him the past couple of days. He was sexy, romantic, and fun. A lethal combination. She didn't know what she was going to do. Normally when she started to feel things for a guy, she knew the next step--end things.