Page 33 of Not the Puck Bunny

I glanced at him, but then down at the screen. There in front of me was a photo of him, I guessed from a couple of years ago. He was smiling into the camera, but his smile looked forced, like he really didn't want his picture taken.

In direct contrast, was a woman with short blonde hair, green eyes and a huge smile. She was leaning against him, her posture possessive.

The caption said her name was Clio George, actor and model. That figured, she was absolutely stunning. Her skin was flawless. My mother would have envied her figure. Hell, so did I. In theory, they were the perfect couple, attractive and famous.

“Scroll down,” Cam said.

I glanced over at him, but did as he suggested.

My heart lurched. I had to swallow down a knot of unexpected emotion that felt a little like jealousy.

Clio was clearly pregnant, her hand on her belly. Like the first photo, Cam stood beside her like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“We hooked up after that first photo,” he said. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time. Star hockey player, gorgeous model, we were supposed to be the perfect fit, or some bullshit.”

“And then she got pregnant,” I whispered.

“And then she got pregnant,” he agreed. “The longer we were together, the more I came to realize she was only with me because of who I was and what I could do for her career. Or what she thought I could do.” He shrugged.

“So you have a kid?” What was he doing here with me then? He should be buying cotton candy for his child, and winning giant teddy bears for them. Were they old enough to learn to skate? Would he teach them?

I had a feeling any child of his would learn to skate right after they learned to walk. And hold a stick right after that.

He grunted in response. “Nope. Turns out it wasn't mine. The other guy insisted on a paternitytest to prove it wasn't his and it turned out it was. Joke was on him, I guess.”

He pressed his lips together so tight, his skin turned white. His brown eyes were unfocused, thinking back, obviously to a place he didn't want to think about any more. A place when a woman had pushed the knife into his heart and twisted the blade.

Why did I picture her laughing while she was doing it? Maybe it was as hard on her as it was on him.

“Shit,” I whispered. “That must have been…" I had no words. What he must have gone through. Thinking the baby was his, only to have that taken away. It was far worse than having someone pack up and leave without a word. What Xander did didn't even come close to this. He must have felt utterly betrayed.

“It was a relief,” he admitted. “I wanted to be a good dad, but not with her. Not for someone who couldn't see past my job and how much money I had in the bank. Not for someone who would have spent the rest of her career selling herself as wife of Mr. Cameron North. Mrs. Clio North, puck bunny.”

He didn't bother to hide his bitterness.

I couldn't blame him. What sort of person does that to another? Maybe she really thought the babywas his, but if there was any doubt, she should have been honest with him. I couldn't imagine lying like that to anyone, especially not when a child was involved.

“That explains why you're so—" I said, trying to find the right words.

“Grumpy?” he suggested. “Cranky? Angry?”

“Careful,” I said finally. “You got screwed over. If you weren't guarded, I'd be surprised and confused.” I let the silence fall again for a few moments.

“The night we met, you thought I was like that,” I said. “That I was just there to have my moment in the sun.”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “Beautiful women make me extra nervous.”

I snorted softly. “You must have known I'm not a model. I mean, look at me.” I waved a hand at myself.

“I am looking at you,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Why wouldn't you be a model? You're absolutely fucking gorgeous.” He tangled his fingers in my hair. He gripped it a little tighter before he leaned over to brush his lips over mine.

The rollercoaster car wasn't the only thing that stopped right then, my heart did too. I couldn't believe Cam was kissing me, of all people. Nor could I believe the jolt of electricity that snapped betweenus, all the way through my body and down into my core.

I missed the touch of his lips the moment he pulled back.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered before slipping his arm from around me. He didn't make any attempt to move further away, so our arms still touched, but his walls were back up. His expression was as guarded as the first time we met. Not as hostile, but just as careful.

“Don't be,” I said quickly. “We both got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

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