Melting the Ice(13)
“Are they secret sketches?”
“Not really. They’re just difficult to explain.”
He gave her a look. “So, you think I’m an idiot.”
“I didn’t say that.”
He held out his hand. “Then let me see them.”
“Fine.” She dug her sketchbook out of her bag and flipped to a page, then handed it to him.
He looked at them, stunned by her talent as he reviewed the pages she’d drawn of him and some of the other players. She’d caught everything about the game and the players. The speed, the intensity in their expressions. He could feel the action and the emotion on these pages. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Wow, Carolina. These are really good. I had no idea you had talent like this.”
He saw the blush creep across her cheeks as he handed the sketchbook back to her.
“I had to do them fast. They’re just messy drawings.”
“No, they’re . . . amazing. You captured the fast pace and passion of hockey like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“What I really wanted to do was show how you all move.”
“I’d say you did that perfectly.”
Their waiter showed up. Carolina deferred, so Drew ordered a bottle of wine for them.
“What’s your intent in doing the drawings? Obviously you’re not looking to design hockey uniforms.”
She let out a short laugh. “Uh, no. But I am thinking about sports when I design for men. How to take movement into consideration. And comfort. Men don’t like to feel restricted or weighed down in clothing. You want to feel comfortable, even in”—she looked around and leaned forward—“underwear.”
“So you’re going to create a line of men’s underwear, too?”
“Yes.” Her lips tipped upward at the corners. “How do you feel about modeling underwear?”
He shrugged. “I feel fine about it, but how do you know I’ve got the goods to do it? Maybe you want to use some dude who does that for a living.”
“I suppose you have a point. I’d have to . . . see your body again.”
He smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
She rolled her eyes. “Look. You’re going to have to be a professional about this if we’re going to work together.”
“Hey, I can get naked and not think about having sex with you. Maybe.”
“Can you?”
“I’m not twelve, babe.”
“Or twenty-two, drunk, and unable to remember my name?”
He leveled a not-quite-happy look at her. “I knew exactly who I was sleeping with that night.”
“Maybe you did. It was the day after you forgot who I was.”
“Yeah, I screwed up big-time that night, and the day after. I could give you a lifetime of I’m sorry’s, but that can’t change what happened or the fact I treated you like shit afterward. But I’ll still say it, as many times as you need to hear it—I’m sorry, Carolina.”
FOUR
THEIR WAITER BROUGHT THE WINE, AND TOOK THEIR food order, so Carolina didn’t have time to respond to Drew’s apology. Probably a good thing, since she had no idea what to say to him.