Slap Shot by Lily Harlem Page B

yourself?” he asked quietly. His brows pulled low and his arms wound around my waist but he didn’t hold me close, he just kept me trapped.
    “Of course.”
    He sucked in a breath. “My agent will kill me for this but I want to tell you, I want you to understand about my past.”
    I tipped my head. “Why would he kill you?”
    “Because, as I already told you, he’s trying to set me up working with kids, being an example and all that. It would make things awkward if this came out during the negotiations.”
    “Then I promise I will never say anything.”
    He dragged in a deep breath. “Back in my teens I spent some time in juvie.”
    “You did?” My eyes widened. “What for?” Rick behind bars, I couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t believe it.
    He swallowed and I was aware of his body tensing beneath my touch. “I fell into the wrong crowd. We took to running around at night, looking for a bit of trouble or a bit of cash, both if we could.” He paused. “One night we spotted a second floor apartment with the window open. I was the youngest but also the tallest so I was sent up on the fence and ordered in.” His eyes narrowed. “I handed down what I could—TV, stereo, kitchen stuff, even a jewelry box. I felt like shit about it but the others were shouting me on, encouraging me to get more. We would have a great time spending the cash on beer and some smokes. I was the hero of the night.”
    “So what happened?”
    “Sirens screamed down the street, a whole pile of cops got out and my so-called pals ran like the wind. Trouble was, I didn’t get out quick enough and four cops were waiting for me as I dropped to the ground. They hauled my bad little ass off to the station and screamed the riot act at me.”
    “Rick, that’s awful, didn’t you tell them it was peer pressure?”
    He laughed without humor. “That doesn’t wash when you’re seventeen, Dana. It was my own stupid fault and my own sorry mess.” He stared at the wall over my shoulder. “No one in my family had the cash to pay my bail and to cut a long story short, I got locked up for two months. It was a shit time in my life, the worst probably, but it did make me sit back and think. Made me decide what I wanted to do.”
    “And were you skating then?”
    “Yes, I was on the local team, messing about, hitting pucks whenever I could be bothered to show up. I enjoyed it, I was good at it, so I decided it could be more, a bigger part of my life. Luckily my coach felt the same, and when I got out he was happy to give me a second chance.” He shrugged. “The rest is history.”
    “You mean your rise to fame and fortune?”
    “Yeah, my rise to fame and fortune.” His gaze harnessed mine. “But I’m still looking for one thing.”
    “What’s that?”
    “What a few of my teammates have found. Someone to spend time with, have fun with, get to know. Not some groupie who hangs around the bars near the rink hoping to score a hockey player, and certainly not some crazy stalker woman who sends me freaky letters and stuff. Someone nice and normal, someone who makes me smile and who makes me think about them when we’re not together.” His voice dropped low. “Someone who makes me so damn hot I feel as if I’ve been dropped in a volcano whenever she walks into a room.”
    “I don’t think that’s me,” I said, shaking my head. But I wish it was, ’cause he’s making me so hot I’m about to combust.
    “Let me be the judge of that,” he whispered. “Because I’m sure whatever is bothering you has been blown out of proportion. We all have broken parts of ourselves we prefer to hide, but trust me enough to tell me, please.” His mouth pressed against mine, soft and gentle but with more than a hint of determination.
    He clearly wasn’t going to let up and I owed him an explanation after what he’d just shared with me. I should get it over with and tell him my story, brace myself for his disgust that I wasn’t the woman he presumed