Page 4 of Broken Ice, Mended Hearts

She hadn’t answered my question. “Alex, you know Drake and I only broke up last winter. I’m not ready to meet anyone else. You understand that, don’t you?”

She handed me a martini and held up her glass for a clink. “Relax, Mr. Full-of-Yourself. My other guest is straight.” She shrugged and added, “As far as I know.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I raised an eyebrow. “Alex?”

“He’s another client of mine, in town for one night. Since he had no plans, I thought it would be great if you two got to know each other. You’re in the same town now.”

After coming to the US from Sweden, I’d played for the New York Condors for nine years before they traded me to the Washington Congressmen last February. Since the Congressmen were in the run-up to the playoffs, I’d barely had time to get to know my teammates. If I was only meeting this guy tonight, he must have been a member of Washington’s other NHL team. “A Barracuda?”

“Yes. Pierre Gagné.”

My glass tilted, and I took a quick sip, hoping to hide my surprise. Gagné and I had been in the same place a few times over the years, sharing the ice on opposing teams during All-Star games and exchanging handshakes at receptions. He was stunning, with an unforgettably handsome face and perfectly sculpted physique that had always made me too shy to talk to him.

Last March, a few weeks after I joined the Congressmen, Gagné and I clashed on the ice. In the heat of the scuffle, I’d lost my footing, instinctively reaching out to him for support. He punched me as we grappled for control.

We went down, and I fixated on his eyes—deep, blue-gray orbs that drained the fight right out of me. In an unexpected twist, he pulled me into a tight hug, unlike anything I’d ever experienced in a hockey game. His gaze bore through my defenses, leaving me stripped and vulnerable.

A jolt of desire had hit my balls and shot up my spine. Even now, my dick twitched when I remembered how our cups had made contact through our hockey pants. One side of his lips had curved into a smile, and for the first time since I was a teenager, I’d gotten a chubby during a game.

You didn’t want to let go when the refs pulled you apart.

It was an emotional reflex. I’d been alone for a while, and I needed a man to hold me.

He obviously wanted to hold you too. Remember the disappointment on his face when the linesman swiveled him away to go to the penalty box?

Fuck it. I can’t worry about the disappointment on his face because I need to look out for myself. No. Relationships.

“Sven?” Alex cocked her head. “Are you all right?”

I nodded at my glass, trying to mask the intensity of my thoughts. “I’m fine. Just a strong drink.”

The doorbell chimed before she could respond, and I downed another gulp of martini as she left. A minute later, she returned with Gagné in tow. He and I shook hands.

Holy hell!A spark shot up my arm, and Gagné quirked an eyebrow as he tightened his hold on me. He gave me the same enigmatic half-smile he had while we lay on the ice, and an unexpected buzz in my ears made me unsure of anything but the warmth of his grasp and the tingling in my arm. He was even better-looking than I remembered—tall and solid, with brown hair and an almost boyishly handsome face. Only the faint lines around his eyes and subtle furrows on his forehead hinted at his age—probably in his thirties, like me. Desire arced through me, and I struggled to stay on my side of the handshake and not lean in for a quick kiss. This might become a difficult evening, especially if he kept looking at me that way.

“I’m so glad you could both come,” Alex said. “I predict you’ll be good friends down in DC.”

Gagné’s crooked smile widened into a grin, and he glanced down at our still-joined hands. We let go, and there was no mistaking the warmth flooding through me. I needed to be damn careful because I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea.

Butisit the wrong idea? You didn’t imagine that moment on the ice.

And what just happened here? Was it real, or the product of my overactive, very horny imagination?

“Congrats on doing so well in the playoffs,” I said. “I was pulling for you guys after we were eliminated.”

He gave an upward nod. “Thanks. We were disappointed in the end, but it was a rush to get so far again.”

The Barracudas had made the finals before Colorado beat them and won the Cup. To the Cudas’ credit, they’d made it a seven-game series.

“Drink, Gags?” Alex asked him. “I know you don’t like martinis, but I probably have anything else you want.”

“Beer would be great.”

Gags?How had I forgotten that ridiculous nickname? There was no way I could call him that without remembering what happened on the ice and imagining him gagging on something else.

“It was a shame.”

I looked at him. “Sorry?”

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