On Thin Ice (The Baltimore Banners Book 8) (10 page)

And yeah, she definitely needed to stop thinking about it.

She shifted on the sofa and flipped open the magazine, determined to push images of Kenny Haskell from her mind and lose herself in the articles. She must have done just that because she started awake sometime later with a dizzying sense of disorientation, the feeling that something wasn't quite right. She pushed up on her elbows and looked around, the surroundings only vaguely familiar in the foggy sleep daze that still gripped her.

"I didn't mean to scare you. Sorry."

Lauren looked to her left and blinked at the man leaning over the back of the sofa, a grin on his face. She blinked again and everything clicked into place.

The morning games being cancelled.

Walking home because her sister disappeared with her car.

Kenny picking her up and bringing her back to his place. Fixing her lunch then taking a nap.

Lauren sat up and swung her legs to the side, scrubbing her hands across her face. Apparently Kenny wasn't the only one who had taken a nap. The only difference was he looked fresh, recharged, ready to go.

And she felt like she was still struggling against the thick cotton in her head, trying to get her bearings straight when all she wanted to do was close her eyes and go back to sleep.

"What time is it?"

"A little after four. Here, drink this." He passed something over her shoulder, something cool. Lauren turned her head and blinked again, the bottle of water finally coming into focus. She took it, mumbling her thanks as she twisted off the plastic cap and took several long swallows.

Kenny moved to the front of the sofa and sat down on the edge, sitting sideways so he could watch her. He was dressed in a suit, a charcoal gray with the faintest of pinstripes with a crisp white shirt and a dark patterned tie. He looked so different from earlier, when he'd been in nothing but sweatpants and a worn t-shirt. He seemed more approachable then. More…real. Just an average guy. Now he looked—she wasn't sure. Dashing and attractive, definitely. But something else as well. Not professional. He didn't have that polished veneer she so often associated with most men in suits. Her hazy mind struggled to find the right words, failing to come up with anything that would fit other than 'off-limits', and she wasn't sure why those were the words that came to mind.

She felt the heat from his leg against her thigh, even though he wasn't touching her. The thought that she should probably move away from him crossed her mind and she pushed it away. It was a silly thought, brought on by the remnants of whatever dream she must have been having along with her struggle to figure out how to describe him.

Or maybe she just needed some more sleep.

"I wasn't going to wake you up but I wasn't sure if you'd feel like you had to leave if I wasn't here."

"Hm. Probably." She took another long swallow of the water then ran a hand through her hair. She could feel it sticking up on one side—and smashed against her head on the other. Lauren grimaced then heard Kenny chuckle, the sound entirely too warm and inviting in her current state of mind.

"Yeah, you have bedhead."

"Great."

"Don't worry, you still look cute."

She nearly choked on the water, coming close to spitting it all over the place. And wouldn't that just be perfect? Bedhead and water shooting out of her nose. What a lovely combination.

Kenny chuckled again then stood and made his way to the small dining area. Lauren noticed the bag on the table, nothing more than a large overnight duffle, a garment bag draped over it. 

She stood up, quickly folding the blanket and placing it over the back of the sofa. "Let me grab my stuff—"

"Why?"

"So you can drop me off." Drop her off where, she had no idea. The arena, probably, since that was closer than her condo. She'd just have to call Dale to come pick her up. Scratch that. Dale was working. It didn't matter, she'd think of something.

"Lauren, I didn't wake you up to kick you out. Stay here until you get in touch with your sister."

"But—"

"No buts. Seriously, just stay here." He grabbed the duffel and garment bag then made his way back to the sofa, his dark eyes focused on her with an intensity she didn't understand.

"I left my cell number next to the phone. Just call me to let me know what's going on so I don't worry."

"Kenny—"

"I'll check after the game and if I don't have any messages from you by then, I'll call here. So if the phone rings, don't be afraid to answer it."

"Your phone?"

"Of course my phone. I doubt if yours will be working by then."

"I can't just stay here."

"Yes you can. It's not like I'm going to be here. And it's not like you can walk anywhere, not in this weather. Okay?"

"But—"

"I have to get going. There's plenty of food in the fridge, and you know where everything else is. Make yourself at home." He nodded, like he was reiterating his point, then moved to the door. "And if you need to spend the night, just use my bed. It'll be more comfortable."

"Kenny, I am not—"

Her mouth snapped closed when he advanced on her, an expression of steely determination on his face.

"Are you always so damn stubborn?"

She lifted her chin a notch and narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

Lauren didn't see it coming, had no way to prepare for it. Kenny stepped closer and cupped her chin in his large hand then pressed his mouth against hers. She gasped, completely off-guard and unable to move when he deepened the kiss and swept his tongue inside. He tasted like mint and spice. Warm, heady. Dangerous and determined. She moaned again and leaned closer, reaching for him, but he stepped away. A grin teased his moist lips but it was the look in his eyes that sent shivers dancing along her skin. Need. Desire.

"I like the idea of you in my bed. I'll call you later." He pressed another kiss against her mouth, this one just a quick peck, then turned and walked out the door.

Lauren stood there for a few minutes, maybe longer. She couldn't move, was too stunned to do anything except stare at the closed door.

"I am in so much trouble."

Chapter Twelve

"Tell me again where you are."

Lauren let out a heavy sigh and rested her head against her knees. "I already told you."

"So you're at some guy's house that you don't really know because your sister took off with your car. Because you were stupid enough to let her use it even after the stunt she pulled last week."

"She's your sister, too. And I don't need a lecture again."

Her brother's short laugh sounded too loud, his irritation clear even through the phone. "You need to stop feeling sorry for her. She's using you."

"Dale, not now, okay? I don't need to hear it. Now can you pick me up in the morning or not?"

"Yeah, I'll pick you up after I get relieved. Just text me the address."

"I can't. My phone's shot, remember?" She glanced in the direction of the kitchen, visualizing her phone sitting in a bag of rice on the counter. Lauren had checked it fifteen minutes ago, just before calling her brother, and it was still dead.

"Fine, let me grab a piece of paper." There was shuffling in the background, the faint noise of a squawking radio and other voices, louder then drifting off. "Okay, what's the address?"

Lauren opened her mouth to tell him, then just as quickly closed it. She didn't know the address. At least, not the building number. Not even the apartment number. She hadn't been paying attention. "Uh, I'll just meet you on the corner. At Charles and Lombard."

Silence greeted her, followed by an exasperated sigh. "You don't know where you are."

It was a statement, not a question. Lauren rolled her eyes and glanced at the television, frowning as the analysts discussed tonight's game and tried to explain the Banners' loss to Tampa. She reached for the remote and turned it off.

"I know where I am. I just don't know the building number."

"For shit's sake, Lauren. What would you do if you needed to call for help? How would you be able to tell anyone where you're at?"

"You know, you should have been a cop instead of a fireman. You're too suspicious. Besides, I know they can trace the call. And there's nothing to worry about anyway."

"You don't know that. For all you know, this guy could be a serial killer."

"Really? Do you ever stop to listen to yourself? Dale, he's a hockey player. A defenseman for the Banners. You had no problem with him Friday night when you met him and I really don't think he's a serial kisser." Lauren winced, wondering how she could have slipped up so bad. She only hoped her brother didn't notice.

"A what?"

"A serial killer."

"That's not what you said."

"Yes it is." Damn Dale. Did he miss nothing?

"No, it's not. You said kisser. Is there something else I need to be worried about now?"

"So have you talked to Tammy lately?"

Silence greeted her, just like she knew it would. Tammy was her brother's ex-girlfriend, a vapid self-centered woman that Lauren had disliked from the very beginning. It had taken four months before her brother came to his senses and broke things off with her, but apparently it hadn't been a clean break.

"I'm not in the mood, Lauren. We've been running our asses off all night and I'm tired so let it go."

"Sorry." And she was. She knew it was a sore subject with him but she didn't need him prying into things that weren't his business.

"So about this guy…"

Lauren rolled her eyes, knowing her brother knew exactly what she was doing. "We can talk tomorrow."

"Hm. Is this his number? The one that showed up on my cell?"

"Yup."

"Alright. I'll call you in the morning before I get there so you can meet me." An alarm sounded in the background, loud and shrill. "I have to run, we got another call. I'll see you in the morning."

He ended the call before she could say anything, which was probably a good thing because there was no doubt in her mind he'd start grilling her again. She shouldn't be surprised. Dale was her big brother, that's what he did. And it was better than getting into a discussion about their sister. A hundred times better. But Lauren knew that discussion was coming, too. She'd blown him off Friday night, refusing to get into it with him, refusing to talk about Lindsay and everything she'd done. She knew she wasn't going to be so lucky in the morning when Dale picked her up, not this time. Yes, they needed to have the discussion. Yes, it was time she did something.

That didn't mean she wanted to think about it, let alone admit it.

The phone rang, startling her enough that she nearly dropped it. She took a deep breath, let it ring one more time, then answered it.

"I guess that means you haven't heard from your sister yet." Kenny's voice was warm and soft and entirely too welcome, despite the irritation that edged it.

"Uh, no. Not a word."

"Does she do that a lot? Just take off without worrying about anyone else?"

Lauren leaned forward and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was the conversation she had been expecting to have with her brother, not with Kenny. And if Dale had said the same thing, she would have responded with something short and sarcastic, telling him she didn't want to talk about it.

She couldn't do that with Kenny, though. For one thing, she detected more curiosity than censure in his voice. Yes, there was an underlying irritation there as well. But she got the impression it was more irritation on her behalf instead of directed toward Lindsay.

No, maybe that didn't make sense. And maybe it ended up being the same thing when you got right down to it. But for some reason she was more willing to discuss it with Kenny than her brother. At least for now.

"More than she should, yeah." Lauren waited for his comment but all she heard was silence, broken only by whatever background noise was echoing around him. Deep voices, laughter. Someone shouting. "Where are you?"

"In the locker room, getting ready to head out to the bus to the airport."

"You didn't have to call, you know."

"Yeah I did. I would have worried if I hadn't. Are you staying there tonight?"

"Yeah. My brother's picking me up in the morning."

"And your phone?"

"I'll be making funeral arrangements for it tomorrow, I'm sure."

Kenny laughed, the sound wrapping around her, warming her. She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself since nobody else was there to see her.

Because yeah, she was definitely in trouble.

"Did you watch the game?"

"Yeah. Tough loss. You lucked out, though."

"Lucked out?"

"Yeah. For that hit in the third. I would've given you five minutes."

"It was a clean hit."

Lauren laughed then curled her legs under her. "Not even close."

"Then I would have argued with you."

"And I would have tossed your ass."

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

This time it was Lauren who laughed, remembering the youth hockey game where she had done just that. "No, it wouldn't."

She heard a muffled scratching noise, like Kenny was covering his phone, then the muted rumble of his voice. A few seconds went by before he spoke again. "I need to get going in a few minutes, we're getting ready to leave."

"Have a safe trip. Bring back some of that warm west coast weather, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll try." He cleared his throat then lowered his voice. "I, uh, I didn't mean to surprise you earlier. When I left, I mean."

She knew exactly what he meant. In fact, she'd been doing her best to not remember. Not because she hadn't enjoyed it but because she was driving herself crazy every time she thought about it. It was only a kiss. Not even a full-blown, toe-curling, stomach-dropping kiss.

Yeah, sure it wasn't. That's why her lips tingled and her stomach dipped every time she thought about it.

"Uh oh. Silence. That's not good."

"No. No, it's good. I was just—" She cleared her throat. "Maybe you caught me a little off guard."

"You okay with it?"

Was she okay with it? What kind of question was that? Was she okay with him kissing her? Okay with him surprising her like that? Okay with what, exactly? Lauren finally laughed, the sound too breathy, too low.

"I don't know. You might have to try again so I can decide."

"I think I can make that happen." There was a muffled sound again, followed by some shouting. "I have to run. I'll call you later."

"Sounds good." And oh God, could she sound any lamer?

"Lauren?"

"Yeah?"

"Sweet dreams."

She was still trying to figure out how to respond when he disconnected the call. She stared at the phone for a few seconds then leaned over and placed it on the coffee table.

Sweet dreams? Lauren was certain she'd be having dreams tonight. She just wasn't sure anyone would be able to call them sweet.