Melting the Ice(45)

            “Your place or mine?” he asked.

            “Isn’t yours closer? I’d like to see it.”

            He nodded and gave the driver his address. It was a short ride to his brownstone, especially this late at night with less traffic on the streets. He paid the driver and they got out.

            “This is nice, Drew.”

            “Well, it’s not your place, so don’t expect much.”

            She laced her arm in his. “I’m not expecting anything.”

            He could tell she was buzzed and a lot more relaxed than the last few times they’d been together.

            Which he liked. He wanted her to have a good time. He just hoped he’d remembered to pick up the place before he left for his game.

            They walked up to the second floor. Drew took his time. He liked Carolina leaning against him. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, then flipped on the light, exhaling as he saw the place. That’s right. He’d just had it cleaned yesterday, so it wasn’t its normal disaster.

            She slid out of her coat and hung it on the rack by the door. “This is nice, Drew.”

            “Thanks. Just a one-bedroom. Kind of small. Like I said, nothing fancy like your place.”

            And it wasn’t. It was a simple, one-bedroom apartment. He had some basic furniture, a sofa and a couple chairs. He had a killer TV and gaming system, of course, but this wasn’t home to him. It was where he stayed during the season.

            “You want something to drink? I have water, pop, and . . . beer. No wine. Sorry.”

            “Water would be great, thanks.”

            Drew grabbed two bottles of water from his refrigerator, opened the tops and handed one to her.

            “Thank you,” she said.

            Carolina walked around his living room, then down the hall, opening the door to his bedroom.

            Okay, they were going there. He was going to ease into it, maybe turn on the television or play some music.

            She stared at his king-size bed. There wasn’t room for much else in the small apartment, but there was no way in hell he was sleeping on some cramped, tiny bed, so he’d opted for the bed and a nightstand and shoved the dresser in the closet.

            “Big bed.”

            “I’m a big guy.”

            She glanced at the bare walls before turning to face him. “And I love how you’ve decorated the place.”

            “Thanks. It’s my specialty.” He took a long swallow of water, then leaned against the doorway. “I don’t spend a lot of time here. Just sleeping, mainly.”

            “This place isn’t home to you.”

            She was observant. “No.”

            She was also holding back, hesitant. He wanted to go to her, touch her, pull her into his arms and kiss her. Oh, man, he really wanted to kiss her. But he wanted her to come to him, to feel comfortable about being here with him.

            This had to be her call. He knew how resistant she had been to him, and her sudden turnaround had surprised the hell out of him. If she had any reservations, the last thing he’d do was push her into doing something she really didn’t want to do.

            She wandered into the room. “The bed is the focal point.”

            “Yeah. I don’t need a lot of furniture.” He smiled at her. “I’m a guy. I just need a place to crash.”