On the Surface (In the Zone) (10 page)

Tim took another cookie and leaned back, propped an ankle on his knee. “Do you like hockey, Claire? Or your husband?”

“Vic’s a baseball fan. He likes golf too. Playing mostly. Not watching. I’m not a big sports person. HGTV’s my channel of choice. What did you want his autograph for if you don’t like hockey?”

“It was for a friend,” she said. A friend. She looked uncomfortable, so he deduced it probably wasn’t Tammy. Then he realized.

Oliphant.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw twitched. Erin wanted that autographed hat for Peckerhead, M.D. He almost decided to renege on his offer to supply a replacement hat, but then he realized that Oliphant would definitely not appreciate a cap with Tim’s name on it. Heh-heh. That made the hat mandatory. If she gave it to the doctor, he’d be annoyed. If she didn’t, that meant the doctor had fallen out of favor. Win-win.

“You make it sound so banal, but I saw the video,” Claire said. She turned to Tim. “I looked you up on Google after Erin called me.” She turned back to her sister. “Shame on you for not telling me about what happened with that psycho bully. You were on the news!”

Erin made a face.

“Why didn’t you call and tell me?” Claire asked. “Are you two dating now?” She leaned forward. “Was it love at first sight?”

“Claire. Shut. Up.”

“But—”

“I mean it!”

Tim laughed. “Claire, I’ll tell you this much. For me, it was definitely like at first sight. Serious like.”

Erin buried her face in her hands and Claire beamed. “Awesome. In that case, you should come to dinner when Erin gets back from San Francisco. I’ll make boeuf bourguignon and freshly baked bread. Tim, you can bring the wine. Something hearty. A cabernet, or maybe a pinot noir.”

“We’ll let you know, sis,” Erin said before Tim could answer in the affirmative. She gave him a sharp look that warned him of unpleasant consequences should he contradict her. He kept his mouth shut. He’d seen his father overrule that same look from his mom and rue it afterward.

“Thank you for the tour,” he said to Claire. “I really appreciate it, and the cookies were great.”

Claire hurried to bag some for him, which he appreciated. He’d been eating at restaurants so often, he craved anything homemade.

“I hope you decide to buy something here. I’d love to have you as a neighbor. And don’t forget the mirror, Erin. It’s right here by the door.”

“I’ll get that for you,” Tim said. “Good thing we brought my Escalade.”

Tim carried the wall mirror while Erin went to the elevator and pushed the down button.

“Sorry,” she said.

“About what?” He rested the mirror carefully on the floor as they waited.

“About Claire. I love her and appreciate that she cares about me, but as you can see, sometimes she goes overboard.”

“You don’t need to apologize about that. I didn’t mind. I need all the help I can get.”

“Give me a break. Women probably throw themselves at you all the time. You could probably have sex every night of the week if you wanted to. Twice on Sunday.”

He knew she meant it flippantly, but that did it. A man had limits.

“You know, now you need to apologize,” he snapped. He picked up the mirror as the elevator arrived. Erin held the door while Tim got on.

She looked surprised. “What for?”

“For assuming that all I want is sex.” Tim jabbed a finger at the button for the ground floor.

She frowned. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you? That’s the second time you’ve suggested that I’m a player and it’s starting to bug me.”

The elevator stopped at the twelfth floor and a man got on. They didn’t speak again until they got to the ground floor.

“You know what? You’re absolutely right,” she said. “I’m sorry. I keep assuming you’re a horny jerk and I’m sorry. Really.”

He nodded. “Apology accepted.”

They walked to guest parking and he put the mirror in the back. “Your place?”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

Tim fastened his seat belt. “To tell the truth though, what you said is true. On game nights, I could, if I wanted, pause on my way out of the arena, look over the crowd of fawning women and just choose one, but I don’t.” He caught her gaze and held it to make his point then turned started the engine. “Not anymore, at least. I took advantage of it when I was a rookie, I’ll admit it. I mean, I was a young kid. My whole life was hockey. Every spare minute I had in high school and later in college, I was playing or practicing. I didn’t have time for girls.”

He glanced at her. “Then I get drafted into the NHL and suddenly women are falling all over themselves to blow me in the parking lot, no strings attached. No relationship necessary or expected. At that time in my life, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. But it didn’t take long for me to start feeling shitty about it. Sure, the girls knew what they were getting into, but that didn’t make it right. Using them for sex cheapened them and even if they didn’t look at it that way, I did.”

He stopped at a red light, turned to face her. “So, cards on the table. What I told your sister is the truth. I like you a lot. Maybe even more than a lot. I want to spend more time with you, get to know you better and let you get to know me and what kind of life I lead. The real life I lead. Not the one you think I lead. Because I could really see this going somewhere if you want it too.”

“Tim...”

The light turned green and he accelerated. “I know. It’s fast. I just don’t see any reason to waste time playing games. I know how I feel about you.”

Erin sat there and didn’t say anything. He wondered if he’d gone too far. Explained too much about his wild youth. Shared his feelings too fast and pushed her too hard. If he had, so be it. Everything he’d said was the truth. If she wanted Dr. O, fine. He’d rather know now than find out after he became next door neighbors with her sister, Martha Matchmaker.

When they got to her place, he got the mirror out and followed her up to her door, uncertain and worried that he’d blown it.

She faced her door without unlocking it. She looked tense. He steeled himself for the it’s-not-going-to-work-out-between-us speech.

Chapter Thirteen

Erin stood on her doorstep, all mixed up inside—scared, excited, happy and confused. Ever since she’d met Tim, she’d felt a powerful attraction to him. He seemed too good to be true, and she wondered why someone hadn’t snapped him up already. There had to be something wrong with him that she just hadn’t discovered yet. Maybe he had a flatulence problem or was a total slob. Maybe he was selfish in bed, like Kevin had been. Maybe he was a premature ejaculator. There had to be something, because so far, he was perfect and no one was perfect.

He didn’t even seem afraid of commitment. Not five minutes ago he’d told her flat-out, he was interested in pursuing a relationship with her. But he was moving way too fast. Heck, she’d been dancing around Dr. O for three months. If a day went by and she didn’t see Adrian, no big deal. But with Tim, she hated saying goodbye. This very minute, she wanted to drag him into her apartment and throw the Three-Week Rule out the window.

“Are we going to put this inside?” he asked, still holding the mirror.

Erin shook herself out of her thoughts. “Sorry. Yes, we are.”

She unlocked the door and let him in. Her place wasn’t nearly as nicely appointed as Claire’s, but she wasn’t ashamed of it. Her furniture invited people to use it, not stand and admire it from afar.

“Where do you want it?” Tim asked.

She pointed to the dining nook. “Over there’s fine. Thanks.”

She watched him carefully prop it against the wall. She could tell the thing was heavy by the way his arms flexed. His butt looked fantastic in jeans. He turned around and smiled at her, but hesitantly. He’d put himself out there just now in the car, and now the puck was in her zone, or whatever it was in hockey. What was she going to do with it?

“I had a really nice time,” she said. What a lame statement.

“But...”

She blinked in surprise. “There’s no but. I don’t have a but.”

“Oh yes, you do. Your butt is the stuff of dreams.”

She smiled. That was lamer than what she’d said, but it still made her feel appreciated. “You’ve been watching my butt?”

“Every chance I get. If it were New Year’s, that would be my resolution. ‘Watch Erin’s butt more.’”

“Yours is pretty nice too.”

He grinned. “You think? It’s the skating.” He turned around and, with his hands on his hips, flexed his ass. “You can touch it if you want to.”

“Oh, no. That’ll just get us into trouble.”

He gave her a slow smile and came toward her. “And your point is?”

“No, Tim. Don’t get me started.” When she held a hand out to stop his approach, he took it and guided it down toward his butt. She laughed and pulled it away, but by then he’d wrapped an arm around her waist. Her laughter died away as he looked at her mouth, then back up to her eyes and slid a hand around the back of her neck. Oh, mama. The shiver that went down her back as he bent his head...

His warm lips brushed hers and made her go all melty inside. He kissed her softly and slowly, like he had all the time in the world, and the fatigue she’d fought since two o’clock that morning seemed to vanish. She opened her mouth to him and he didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her almost off her feet. She held onto his shoulders even though she knew he’d never let her fall. Reality seemed to spin away, along with all her doubts.

He moved his lips to her jaw and kissed his way to her ear and neck.

“I love the way you smell. Like coconut and woman and everything I want.”

He took her mouth again. She felt his erection growing against her stomach and that made her even hotter. Her hands did find their way down to his butt, and holy crap, it felt like pure, powerful muscle. He was muscle all over. He probably even had fit pinky fingers. The temptation to invite him to her bedroom almost overpowered her. She wanted to pull his pants down and feel that ass for real, put her hands on his skin and revel in all that hard male flesh. But she couldn’t.

If she succumbed too soon—because who was she kidding? They were going to sleep together eventually—she’d become just one more woman he’d been to bed with. She refused to be a pleasant fuck among so many pleasant fucks. She wanted him to never forget her as long as he lived, if only for the fact that she held out against his charm for three entire, excruciating weeks.

“Tim, stop,” she gasped. “We can’t do this.”

“Shhh,” he said, rubbing his cheek against hers. His breath was hot against her neck. “Too much talking, not enough kissing.”

He grabbed a handful of her behind and kissed her again with an urgency and thoroughness that literally weakened her knees. She wrestled with her resolve again and with a Herculean effort, turned her head to avoid his hot and hungry mouth. “I’m serious, Tim. I have to get some sleep before I go to work at seven.”

He stilled. Pulled back. Exhaled hard and exhaled again. “Yeah. Okay. I can stop. Christ. This is no problem. This is me, stopping.” He walked around in a small circle and collapsed on the couch. She couldn’t help but notice the quite prominent outline of his cock.

Oh my.

To think she’d teased him the other night about overcompensating. For him to overcompensate, he’d have needed to buy an eighteen-wheeler.

He gave her a shaky smile and made a fist. “I’ve got a will of iron, I tell you.”

“Hey,” she said, sitting next to him. “I’m hot and bothered too.”

“Then why—never mind. I remember. Three weeks. God, and I totally respect that. I do. But I will still respect you.” He turned his head and caught her gaze. “And it’s going to happen eventually. You know it as well as I do.”

She pressed her lips together. “Just not this very minute.”

He looked at his watch. He looked at her. He looked at his watch.

“Don’t tell me,” she said.

“Yep. I’m waiting for this minute to be over.”

“Oh, go on,” she said, laughing. “Get out of here. I need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Okay, I’m going.” He stood up and stretched.

“It’ll be easier when I’m in San Francisco,” she said.

“You’re not going to go all crazy up there, are you? Am I going to find you on YouTube dancing topless on top of a bar?”

“No!”

“Damn.” He looked crestfallen. “Doesn’t have to be at a bar, you know. It could just be a topless picture.”

“No topless pictures, Tim.” Smiling, she pushed him toward the door.

“How about flirty texts? Are you all right with flirty texts?”

“That’s fine,” she said, opening the door. “Flirty texts are fine.”

“One more kiss.” He turned and grabbed her.

He planted a big, wet, deep one on her. It didn’t last long, but it shook her down to her feet, and then he took off and hopped on the bannister again, this time going backward so he could wave to her as he slid down. A little more of her heart went with him.

Chapter Fourteen

As soon as she was able, Tammy pulled out her iPad and keyed into the in-flight Wi-Fi.

“What are you doing?” Erin asked, leaning over to better see the screen. “Oh my God, are you seriously Googling Tim?”

Tammy clicked on his Wikipedia page. “Someone has to. He could have some horrible secrets.”

“And being secrets,” Erin said, “they wouldn’t be public knowledge, like
everything on Wikipedia
.” She pulled out one of the magazines she’d brought and snapped it open, determined not to peer at Tammy’s screen.

Tammy’s finger slid down the glass, tapped it. “You mean to tell me you’re not the least bit interested in seeing what he’s accomplished? Stuff about where he grew up? His birthday?” She gasped. “The major award they gave him in 2003?”

Erin pressed her lips together and turned the page of the magazine, even though she hadn’t read a word. “No.”

“Why not?”

Erin laid the magazine on her lap. “Because it feels like cheating.”

“How is it cheating?”

“Maybe cheating is the wrong word.” Erin sighed. “Look, I’ve thought about checking him out online, but it doesn’t seem fair. There’s nothing online about my personal or professional life that
he
can look up...”

“So? You just said yourself this stuff is public knowledge. It’s not like you’re calling his old girlfriends and pumping them for information.” Tammy picked up the iPad and pressed it to her chest. “Okay, how about this? I look the stuff up and just tell you about it. That way, it’s just a friend telling another friend what she knows.”

“Tammy, you’re impossible.”

“Knowledge is power.”

“I’m not trying to overpower him.” But she
was
intensely interested in what Tammy might find.

Tammy leaned her seat back. “Well, I’m just going to read some stuff out loud. If you don’t want to listen, you can put your earphones in and look at whatever they’re trying to sell you on the inflight TV.”

Like that was going to happen.

Erin gave up and slid the magazine into the pocket of the seat in front of her. Even though it still felt slightly wrong, she decided that Tim was used to people knowing things about him that they could find on the internet. To a public figure like him, this wouldn’t feel like an intrusion.

“Okay, you win. Go ahead. No gossip, though. Only solid information. Nothing from the
Inside Scoop
.”

The
Inside Scoop
was a tabloid organization that specialized in celebrity-centered snark. Jackie always had it on in the nurse’s lounge, and sometimes Erin watched it because she was too lazy to change the channel. It always made her feel bad for the celebrities, that they couldn’t enjoy a simple meal without being hounded by paparazzi.

“But the
Scoop
always has the best stories!” Tammy protested.

Erin gave her a look and started reaching for her earphones.

“Okay, okay! Sheesh.” Tammy put the iPad back on the drop-down tray. “Let’s start with Wikipedia...”

And so began
The Story of Tim’s Life
, as read by Tammy. The professional stuff was pretty dry and uninteresting to Erin since she knew so little about hockey, but he’d received an award for being the highest goal scorer in the league which was pretty impressive. He’d won the Stanley Cup twice with the Blackhawks, apparently a big deal, judging from the tone of Tammy’s voice when she read that. Erin figured the Stanley Cup was probably the World Series or the Super Bowl of hockey.

“Is there anything about something called Bottlegate?”

“I was just getting to that. It’s right here. ‘Hollander received a five-thousand-dollar fine and a five game suspension for assaulting a fan with a water bottle.’ That’s all it says.”

“I wonder if the bottle was full.”

Further investigation revealed little else about the incident. Neither Tim nor the NHL had made comments.

“I’m sure he had a good reason,” Erin said in Tim’s defense. “He doesn’t go around beating people up for no reason. Look at what happened at Q Burger. Atwater, the Barracuda PR guy, said the fan did all the provoking.”

“Of course he did. Guy was probably a jerk.”

“Right.”

“And...yeah. It wasn’t very long after his daugh—” Tammy broke off.

Erin glanced over and saw a pained look on her friend’s face. “What? What is it?” Erin got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Shit. Erin’s first thought was Tammy’d found something horrible and this was her punishment for being nosy. Served her right.

“Hold on.” Tammy held up her index finger.

Erin couldn’t wait. She reached over and angled the iPad so she could see the display.

Tim was married in July 2004 to Waverly Evans.
They had a daughter on February 5
,
2005
,
Mollie Elizabeth Hollander
,
who died of leukemia in 2010.

“Is this still Wikipedia?” Erin demanded, shocked and saddened by this information. She couldn’t blame Tim for not sharing it yet. One didn’t just drop tidbits like that into casual conversation.

“Yes.” Tammy put the iPad away to make room for the sodas the flight attendant brought. “I can’t believe that. She was only five. It’s so sad.”

Erin nodded. “It explains why he doesn’t like hospitals.” It probably also explained why he got weird just before visiting all the kids’ rooms the other day. She’d thought he’d been having a food-poisoning relapse, but maybe memories of the pediatric ward were so painful that it made him physically sick.

A thought occurred to Erin and she sat straight up in her seat.

“What?” Tammy asked.

Erin tapped the iPad with two fingers. “Shit. Turn that thing back on. We need to find out if he’s still married.”

Tammy’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God.” She brought up Google Search and typed,
Tim Hollander hockey divorce.

Again, they found out the bare bones—he had indeed gotten divorced, a year after his daughter’s death—but not much else.

“That’s a relief,” Tammy said. “If he were still married, I’d be tempted to hit
him
with a water bottle. One of those big ten-gallon Sparkletts ones.”

Erin managed a weak smile. She, too, was glad Tim wasn’t married still, but this impromptu foray into his past had revealed more information than she wanted or needed to know. It also caused awkward questions to bubble up. How much had he loved his ex-wife? Had they been a match made in heaven? Why did they get divorced? Did she do the divorcing, or did he? Was Waverly beautiful? Part of Erin hoped the woman was a bitch who tricked Tim into marriage by getting pregnant on purpose and then divorced him later for all the money her lawyers could get. But most of her wished she’d put those earphones in after all and remained blissfully ignorant. If she had, Tim would still be up on that pedestal without all those giant question marks over his head, and Erin wouldn’t feel like she’d violated his privacy.