Page 19

Chad waved toward his en suite as he crossed his bedroom toward the door on the far side. To their right the windows had changed, no longer starting at the floor but just above knee height, and power shades had been drawn from the top downward so a gap of glass was exposed near the ceiling.

“You’re not an exhibitionist?” She gestured to the covered panes. “Somehow that’s surprising, but also reassuring.”

“Who says I’m not?” He grinned from the doorway, clearly eager to have her continue on.

It made her want to stop and absorb even more, feeling intensely curious about what she might find in the most private room of his home.

She might not ever have another excuse to nose around in here, plus there was the fact that he wanted to keep moving, which increased her desire to study everything in sight.

He’d been touchy about the homemade blanket in the guest suite, and it appeared anything to do with family closed him up like a vault.

His bed had a massive headboard, a nondescript comforter and one pillow on the left side. One. He had a bedside table, but again, just one.

“Are those walk-in closets?” She itched to open the doors flanking the king-size bed. The man had style, and she bet each space was chock-full of goodies. NHL players tended to dress in designer suits on their way to and from games, but Chad took it to another level with his one-of-a-kind flair.

“Do monkeys eat bananas?” Chad stepped from the doorway to open the closet nearest him.

She peeked inside, then entered. It was bigger than most children’s bedrooms and the track lighting illuminated rows of suits, racks of perfectly lined up shoes, several tie racks, and hats resting on shelves above.

The colors. The fabrics. She longed to sit on the small bolster by the shiny shoes and beg him to put on a fashion show.

At the far end of the room was a staging area with several open garment bags hanging on hooks, and designer suitcases on a low table waiting to be filled.

It was clear the man had a system. With so many away games each season, it was smart to leave things laid out in a way that didn’t mean tripping over a suitcase all the time.

She looked around for the jeans, jerseys, workout gear and sweaters she often saw him in. There were a few drawers, but they were smaller, suitable for items such as socks and trays of cufflinks. His casual wear wasn’t kept in here.

“All you wear are suits?” she asked.

“The other closet has my day-to-day items.” He pointed to an adjoining door in the corner that linked the two closets. It was closed, like most doors in his house, and she wondered why he didn’t leave them open.

“What will you do if you get married?”

“She can put her stuff in the guest room.”

Athena laughed, and he rewarded her with a small smile.

She paused on her way out of the closet, recognizing a few items on the rack labeled Cleaners. She fingered the baby blue ruffled tuxedo shirt he’d worn to the gala, surprised he hadn’t had it laundered immediately after the whiskey incident.

“You wore this well,” she said. “Not even an ironic whiff of pimp daddy.”

His eyes met hers, amusement crinkling the flesh bracketing his mouth. She felt a tremor start at her feet and work its way through her nervous system. The room was suddenly too small, too closed in, too private.

“Even though it should have been burned in the seventies,” she added in an offhand tone.

“Hey! That was custom-made.” He tapped the sleeve she was holding, breaking her grip on the fabric.

Giggling, she took another look at the shirt and its neighboring tuxedo jacket and pants. “You paid to have that made?”

Chad lowered his eyebrows and heaved a sigh, opened his mouth and then closed it again. He turned to leave, then turned back.

“Sorry?” she asked innocently. “Did you want to say something?”

“What are the odds of me finding a tux from that era that fits all of this?” He gestured to his thick quads and the way his jeans stretched tight over them. Mouthwatering.

She shrugged, making her eyes big and doubtful.

“And anyway,” he grumbled, “didn’t you have your dress made?”

She laughed. “You must think they pay me a lot more than they do.” She shook her head. “Consignment shop that specializes in designer items.”

“Huh. Good find.”

“Thanks.” She’d had to let out the gown in several areas, but thankfully there’d been enough material that she’d been able to do so.

“Very jazz lounge,” he said, scanning her curves as though imagining her in the dress again.

“I was thinking blues.”

“Yeah, I could see that.”

Their fingers touched while reaching for the light switch, and Chad let his hand linger over hers, the light from the bedroom casting his face in a soft warm glow.

She wanted to step closer, lean into him and press her lips to his.

Mullens thought Athena was going to kiss him. But then she shot past him, ducking under his arm and exiting the bedroom like her underwear was on fire.

“It’s getting late,” she said. “I should go.”

He caught her hand, slowing her. “We’re not done the tour.”

“Chad…”

“One more thing. And I think you’ll get a kick out of it.”

She dropped her shoulders and sagged.

“Come on, trust me, Tina.”

He opened yet another door, near the entry where they’d come in only twenty minutes ago.

Athena’s jaw slackened and he let go of her hand as she moved into the room as though pulled by a magnet. His home library. Bookcases took up the two side walls and two perfectly broken-in, cozy armchairs faced a fireplace. Coffee table. A few plants and a forgotten bottle of water.

“You read?” She turned to him, eyes wide.

“Most people do, Tina.”

She shook her head. “No, they don’t. And they sure don’t have an entire room dedicated to it.”

“Well, I don’t have kids. Had to fill the room somehow.”

He watched as she ran her fingers reverently along a row of book spines, pausing to tap a few, take a couple out to check the covers.

Her sudden need to leave had evaporated like dew on a Texas summer morning.

She headed to a stack on the table beside an armchair and picked up the hardcover on top, a biography. “This what you’re reading right now?”

“One of several.” Obviously, she hadn’t noticed the books on his bedside table. Or on the coffee table in the living room. It was one of the dangers of living alone. You had to fill the space and time somehow.

She flipped it open to where his bookmark rested, and skimmed a few paragraphs. “Hmm. You’re at the best part.”

“Don’t spoil it for me.”

“Never.” She set the book down again.

After several minutes she left the room with what sounded like a whispered promise to return.

“One more thing,” he said. He doubled back the way they’d come, skipping over a door they’d passed when she’d wanted to flee, minutes ago.

“What’s in here?” She paused in front of it.

“Storage mostly.” The space had basically become a dumping ground, and was extra awful at the moment thanks to boxes of Christmas decorations he’d pulled out, then hadn’t had the heart to put up last month.

“Dead bodies?” she asked, keeping one eye on him as she opened the door. She glanced away, taking in the room. “Oh.” Disappointment filled her voice, and she closed the door again.

“But check this out.” He moved to the far end of the hallway near his bedroom to what appeared to be a segment of opaque windows and pressed one of the glass panels.

She gasped when it slid open. “A secret door?” Athena was at his side in a flash, delicately dancing her fingertips down the glass pieces before stepping into the humid room.

When he’d moved in, he’d had the area closed in to trap the humidity and heat from the greenhouse he’d had built at the top of the staircase that led to his private rooftop patio.

Athena climbed onto the first step, gaping at the water feature that stretched upward to the floor above.

She turned to him, her eyes wild, like a child who’d had too much sugar. “Do you have another secret door in your library? Maybe behind a shelf?” She stepped off the staircase as though ready to go back and look for one.

He smiled at her enthusiasm and shook his head, happy for the first time that he’d been traded to the Dragons.

“Have you checked? Because maybe a secret bookshelf doorway pops out into your suit closet!” She frowned, chewing on her bottom lip. “No, wait. That’s not a shared wall, is it?”

“It would be pretty cool to have a bookshelf door, but alas, no secret passageways that I’m aware of.”

“You’re one colossal disappointment, Chadwick.” She turned and headed up the staircase. “Where are we going?”

“The roof.” The stairs led them past the trickling curtain of water to their right, ivy growing up alongside. A tall, narrow window stretched from floor to ceiling and beyond, merging into the glass-domed greenhouse on the rooftop.

Because it was dark out, he flicked on the lights, ensuring he also turned on the colored ones that lit up the water feature.

“I want to live here,” Athena declared as she climbed.

“That could be arranged,” he said, experiencing a strange, stabbing yearning in his chest. He rubbed the spot as though he could push out the loneliness that came with the feeling.

The top of the stairs deposited them onto a landing and the greenhouse where he was growing herbs and vegetables. He winced, doubting the wisdom of bringing her up here.

The gig was up with his eating and cooking habits, but when she saw his garden he figured things could go one of two ways. She could either rage at him for his duplicity and mockery, or else see the real him, a man she could reject for simply not having enough substance to care about.

He wasn’t sure which was scarier.

“Pardon the mess,” he said, moving past her to open the greenhouse door, turning on more lights as he went. The grow lights behind him were illuminating what a slovenly gardener he was. Spilled dirt, dead leaves, containers of rotting compost, and discarded buckets littered the glassed-in room.

Silently Athena followed him out onto the rooftop patio, where the air was welcoming and cool.

Above, strings of lights lit up the outdoor living space shaded by wide umbrellas.

Potted palms, wicker couches and outdoor rugs made the area look less rooftop and more cozy.

The small fountains, fans and misters were off, but in the heat of the day they worked to keep the area a reasonable temperature so he could sit up here without frying.

“That’s the tour.”

Athena was silent for a long moment, then turned to him, her face awash with delight in the magical light of the patio.

And this time he was dead certain she was going to kiss him.

“Will you cook for me?”

“What?” Chad looked adorably thrown off as their bodies drifted closer together.

“Cook me your favorite recipe in that amazing kitchen of yours.”

“How about I kiss you instead?” He lowered his lips, grazing hers in a way that knocked her off-kilter, awakening her body with an electric buzz.

She rested her palms against his firm chest, pressing her mouth harder to his. Their tongues touched, and his hands slid down her back to her butt in what felt like ownership. She gasped against his lips and the kiss turned hotter.

Athena jerked and pushed away, realizing this was all a tactic. A ploy to draw her further from him, the real him. Re-centering herself, her eyes caught on his tattoo. “What does this mean?” she asked, reaching for the inked skin.

He turned his head, chin down, as though wanting to hide the few leaves that showed above the neck of the black sweater that hugged his muscles, putting them on display even while covering them with fine wool. “Nothing much.”

“ Chad …”

“I just like the way it looks.”

His lips were on hers again and her mind blanked, her body taking over the conversation. His arms felt so right wrapped around her, his strong hands gliding over her rib cage. She sighed against his mouth.

When they came up for air she realized she’d been sucked into another wonderful kiss.

“Tell me something about you,” she whispered, stroking a finger down his cheekbone and through the hollow above his wonderful jaw. “Something personal.”

“Tina…” His lips were lowering to hers again.

“No.” She wasn’t falling for a distracting kiss a second time. She turned her head away, one hand on his chest. “Why, Chad?”

He licked his lips, appearing wary when she dared peek up at him. “Why what?”

“Why won’t you let me in?”

His body loosened and his limbs relaxed as he released her. Then he stepped back into her space, angling for another kiss. “I think I just did.”

“No.” Her breath hitched in her throat, torn between want and need.

“You have this wall.” She slapped a hand flat against his pecs, just above his heart.

“You kiss me instead of showing me you can cook. You deny that you follow the rules and eat based on the plan, and you deny me to the point of mockery. And to make it even worse, you think you can blind me from all that by giving me a kiss.”

“I—”

“You won’t talk about your family. You hustled me through your house like I’m too dumb to notice whenever I got close to discovering something that might actually tell me who you are.” She pushed on his chest again, trying to shake him into reacting. Something. Anything.

“I’m sorry.” He remained unyielding, unapologetic despite his words.

“What are you afraid of?”

He blinked, his mouth opening, his gaze falling away.

“Me?”

She waited for the words that might explain.

“No, Tina… I…”

“And why can’t you call me by my actual name? Is that too scary for you? Too intimate or personal?”

He didn’t have an answer, simply stood with his hands at his sides, looking lost.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Not with you.”

He caught her hand as she turned to leave. “Don’t go.”

“We were both playing tonight, and it was fun, but we’ve been ignoring the truth. I’ve been ignoring it.”

“My image is just that, Tina. It’s not real. That’s not who I am. That’s the guy who sells stuff. Cars, aftershave. Not me.”

“I know that. That’s not what I’m talking about.” She was in the space between. Between the image and reality. And he had the real man locked up so tight she couldn’t even find the bread crumbs that might lead her to him.

She really thought she might like that man. Love him, even.

“You’re not ready.” She gently pressed a hand against his chest, a wave of sorrow washing over her at the thought that she’d have no excuse after tonight to feel the strong ripple of muscles under his fabulous sweaters.

“I’ll never know you. You’ll never let me close enough for something real. The kind of real I need.”