Melting the Ice(29)

            Her mother would be proud of him.

            They ended up at the Gotham Bar and Grill, which sur-

prised her.

            “We’re never going to get in here. You do realize that to eat at a restaurant on Thanksgiving, you have to make reservations in advance.”

            He gave her a smile as they exited the car. “Don’t worry. I know people.”

            She knew people, too, but it didn’t matter what connections you had on a holiday. You weren’t getting in.

            He walked them right past the front door and entered through the side, by the kitchen, waving at the staff, who all waved back as if he did this on a routine basis.

            “I suppose you eat here a lot.”

            “You know, there are a lot of hockey fans in New York.”

            She rolled her eyes as the waiters waved at them, too.

            “Hey, Drew. Are you here to eat?” asked one of the guys, whose name tag read Heath, as he shook Drew’s hand.

            “Yeah. I know you’re busy today, and we only want a sandwich and some pie, so we won’t take up a table for too long.”

            “No problem. We’ll make room for you.” They followed along as Heath found them a small table in the corner that a couple had just vacated. He cleaned it up and they sat.

            Drew looked at her. “What do you think? Turkey sandwich and some pumpkin pie?”

            “That sounds perfect to me,” Carolina said, not wanting to inconvenience the staff or the patrons who’d made reservations. Obviously, Drew didn’t, either.

            “Great,” Heath said. “What would you like to drink?”

            “Iced tea for me,” Carolina said. Drew ordered a cup of coffee.

            “Not a beer?” she asked when Heath was gone.

            “Nah. Got a game tomorrow, which means warm-ups and practice early. I need my head clear.”

            “So I can come disrupt your day tomorrow?”

            He gave her a smile. “Sure. Come on by. You’re also welcome to come to the game.”

            “Not a chance. I’ll be buried in fabrics tomorrow.”

            “But you’ll watch the game, won’t you?”

            “Uh, sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

            He laughed. “You weren’t planning on catching the game. I can tell. Now I’ll be sure to quiz you about it the next time I see you, so be sure to watch.”

            The next time he saw her? Did he plan on making this a regular thing? They weren’t dating. They weren’t . . . anything. She had no time for a man in her life, especially not now. She was going to be knee-deep in designs and fabric and fittings until after Fashion Week.

            She definitely did not have time for Drew in her life. Though she’d drawn him into her life by asking him to be one of her models, hadn’t she?

            Or rather, her brother had. Damn Gray for doing that. She could have selected another model. She could have been alone today. She was already thinking about all the work she could have gotten done.

            Then again, as she leaned back and assessed Drew, his angular looks and athlete’s body, who would be a better showcase for her work? She could already picture him in some of her designs. His body was perfect for them. Not too bad a sacrifice to make for one day’s lost work.

            “You’re staring,” he said.