“You don't have to answer that,” Ronan said.
Calista didn’t hesitate. She pivoted to the Czerski twins. “Conrad and Jakob Czerski, of course.”
The guys chuckled. Everyone knew these two were headed to the top. The twins’ grins grew though, how could they not? Calista was a combination of sincerity, beauty, and passion. He’d never met anyone like her.
“Which twin?” the outspoken dude on the home team pushed.
Calista tilted her head, making her hair swing over her shoulder, long, fair with golden highlights. Several guys watched the motion and straightened on their skates, now interested in more than her opinion, and they had no idea of how incredible the strands felt tangled in his fingers. “They’re equal. Certain positions don't get recognized that way, but they are. I’d love them both for the Snowers.”
The team shuffled, but by the buzz in the air, Ronan could tell they liked her answer.
One of them said, “You're the first owner who's come to see us.”
Calista’s face softened. She tilted toward the coach. “I’m not officially owner yet, and I’m the worst at public speaking. May I speak with the players individually?”
The coach held out his arm in a gesture that encouraged her to go ahead. “Of course.”
Ronan followed behind her.
Calista praised each player, and Ronan shook their hands after her, moving down the line. She had specific, unique words for each man. She told a clumsy skater she loved how he was where he was supposed to be at all times. She told another who’d been taken out in the second period that she’d loved how he’d touched the ice with his fingertips, and that the audience had held their breath at the athletic feat of pulling himself up after almost going down. Another, that although his final point was the star moment for the crowd, she’d liked when he’d fallen in the first period, had gotten up, and charged back even harder, that perseverance would get him far. And on and on she went, praising each one for something small but exact, with a stellar precise memory as if her brain had recorded the entire game.
Her thoughtfulness made his heart swell, and as much as he was ready to take her out of there, he could listen to her go on even longer, and he knew the men could too.
They reached the Czerski twins who hugged her and greeted him with a fist bump. “Did you mean what you said?” Conrad asked quietly, his arm still around her.
“Yes.” Her one word was solid and sincere.
One word, and Ronan ached at her kindness, her ability to see beyond the obvious, and he needed to pull her into his own arms. If he’d had a girlfriend like her back in the day, he’d have never let her go. The rink spun around him, noise stopped, and the press of his heart expanding became all consuming. In that spinning moment, he knew he’d fallen for Calista. Ronan shoved that truth away before he did something stupid like fall to his knees in front of her. He had to concentrate on the players, not himself, and keep his turmoil on the inside.
All the guys had remained until they reached the end of the line, both from enjoying seeing him there and from her compliments. Their delighted faces took him back another step and nudged him to make more time for the fans.
Calista reached the final player who stood by the away coach. He wasn't the best on the ice, but there was raw talent there. “If the Snowers sale goes my way, I hope you’ll consider us.”
The guy blinked rapidly, gaped, and nodded as fast as he was blinking.
His coach slapped him on his back. “Told you.”
* * *
They went back to their hotel suite. Ronan’s heart was still thumping hard against his chest. His own feelings were swamping him, and he was replaying her words in his mind like a melody. She’d been so sweet. How had he ever thought she was manipulative? He needed distance as much as he wanted her in his arms. He could do this, pull back, and give them both room, make decisions before being careless with her heart. “I’m going to shower and hit the sack.”
Calista nodded and went toward the second bedroom without protest. Conversely, he was a little jealous by the ease of her agreement. Was she going to disassemble something? Was she not as rocked by the impossibility of them coupled with the overwhelming desire for them at the same time? Was he twisting off the ice by himself?
The heat of the shower helped him unwind but did nothing to calm his desire. Ronan padded out to the living room in pajama bottoms. Calista sat on the couch with her laptop. She had showered too. Her pink sleep shirt ended at her thighs, and she had pinned her wet hair atop her head. Her vanilla-scented lotion accosted his senses in a torturous here-I-am, taste-me lure.
“Did you want to go out?” They should have discussed after-game plans on the flight over, instead they’d talked hockey. He could suggest dancing, her body close to his, while they swayed to the music, and his hands on her hips directed her moves. The gray fabric of the couch sank down as he sat beside her.
Calista didn’t look up. “I'm more of a homebody.” She smiled a small smile. “If Piper marries Mikah, I’ll have four brothers who play hockey. Can you imagine? I can go to so many games, I promise I’ll be the best support.”
Yeah, she would. Her compelling enthusiasm for hockey was unmistakable. “You’re close to your family?” He’d gotten that impression more than once. He put his arm along the back of the couch, resisting the urge to release the damp strands of her hair.
She nodded.
“Me too.” Which was only one of the reasons he was going back to Washington. Ronan dropped his arm and clasped his hands between his knees. He needed to tell her that. He took a breath, taking in more of her fragrance. As if he had no control of his body, he scooped her legs over his, and ran his palm up her silky thigh. He wanted another night with her. They weren’t in town, or in public, there was no risk. Did she want the same?
Calista froze, then looked intrigued.
Ronan smoothed his palm to the inside of her thigh.