“You’re right.” She half turned to face him, pulling her knee up on the sofa.
She looked pretty tonight. She’d worn a knit dress that clung to her curves, and added dark tights and ankle boots. Her hair spiked up and her dangly earrings twinkled in the light cast by the lamp on his table next to the sofa. She looked soft and feminine and he wanted to gather her against him and kiss every part of her he could see…followed by all the parts of her skin he couldn’t see.
She was quiet, obviously struggling with whatever it was she wanted to say.
But this time, the ball was going to be in her court. He wasn’t going to take the lead, no matter how much he wanted to.
She leaned her elbow against the back of the sofa, then laid her head in the palm of her hand and looked around his living room, though there wasn’t anything to look at. A few pictures, some crappy art he’d bought because Liz had recommended it, and a few things he’d picked up to sit on tables because he liked the way they looked. But he didn’t think Jenna was admiring his art.
There was something she needed to say, but it wasn’t coming out.
She studied the ring on her thumb, then circled it around with her fingers. It was painful to watch her struggle.
He stood, walked to the front door, and grabbed his jacket and her coat. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Out.”
WHEN TY HAD SAID THEY WERE GOING OUT, JENNA figured they’d take a drive, some fresh air so she could get past this lump in her throat and find her voice.
She had no idea they’d end up at the freaking Ice hockey arena at one in the morning.
Who knew he had that much pull that he could get them into the arena?
And now she was being laced up in skates and protective gear and thrust out onto the ice, the lights turned on, while Tyler skated toward her with two hockey sticks in his hands.
God, she had no idea how devastatingly sexy he was in his hockey gear. On television, it was at a distance, and she never went to the games. Not since she was a kid, anyway.
But seeing him come toward her, bent over in game form, sliding that puck back and forth—holy hell it was a turn on that shocked her all the way down to her laced-up skates.
“You’ve got something on your mind,” he said, skating around her, sliding the puck between her skates and scooping it up behind her. “I do a lot of thinking when I’m on the ice. Helps me clear my head. So let’s play a little one-on-one, and maybe you’ll figure out what you need to say.”
She could skate as well as either of her brothers, had gone to the ice rink every winter since she was a little girl, so she had no problem going toe-to-toe with him, but she was no pro hockey player. “We could have just sat on the sofa and talked it out.”
He lifted up his mask and grinned at her. “My way is more fun.”
He slid the puck to her and started skating backward. “Pretend I’m the defender of my goal. Now try to get the puck by me.”
He was going to obliterate her. She already knew that, but she was competitive enough to give it a try. She pushed forward on her skates, feeling bulky and hindered with the gear on, and half blinded by the helmet. Still, she skated on, trying to keep the puck moving with her stick as she advanced toward Tyler, who stood at the left face-off circle, in front of where the goal would be.
And then he moved forward, skating toward her like a high-speed train. She shifted to the right, but he was on her in seconds, sweeping the puck away from her and forcing her to turn or skate backward.
She wasn’t as fast backward as she was forward, so she had to turn around and that slowed her down. He was already at the other end by the time she turned.
He brought the puck around to center ice and swept it back to her.
“You’re slow. Try to pick it up this time.”
“If I high stick you in the balls, you’ll slow down,” she said, irritation piquing.
He laughed and backed away. “That would cost you a penalty.”
She glared at him. “Who will you play with if I’m in the penalty box?”
“Wasn’t the kind of penalty I’m talking about.”
“Yeah? And what kind of penalty is that?”
He put his stick around her back and drew her against him.
“A time out.”
“Bogus, Anderson.” She pushed off and grabbed the puck, racing for the imaginary goal since there wasn’t a net in place. She knew she was no match for Ty’s speed on the ice but she intended to give it her all. She caught sight of him on her right side and dug in, giving it all she had, then reared back with the stick and slammed a shot forward, hitting the goal spot and lifting her stick in the air in triumph.
She skidded to a stop, Tyler a few feet away. She laid her hands on her knees because she was sucking wind so hard her chest hurt, but she was grinning like a crazy person. It had felt great.
He stopped beside her. She turned her head to him. “I scored a goal.”
“So you did. Feel good about that?”