On the Surface (In the Zone) (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

While Erin was gone, Tim thought about her constantly. He had plenty to do, but no matter how busy he kept himself, she managed to sneak into his thoughts like a sexy little ninja. He called her a couple of times, but always seemed to catch her in a workshop or eating with Tammy. To keep himself uppermost in her mind, he texted her constantly the first day they were apart.

Erin
,
I
didn’t
punch
anyone
today
.

Erin
,
I
have
that
hat
I
promised
you
. He actually overnighted it to her along with a Barracuda T-shirt and knit scarf.

Erin
,
the
beach
isn’t
the
same
without
you
. That particular text came with a picture of words he’d scrawled in the sand with a stick,
I
miss you
.

She texted him back.

Tim
,
I
didn’t
spoon
anyone
today
.

I
got
the
hat
,
shirt
and
scarf
.
Thanks
!
Very
sweet
of
you
.

It’s
freakin’
summer
,
but
it’s
freezing
here
!
The
scarf
has
come
in
handy
.

The pictures she sent him showed the workshop speaker she said made her fall asleep, a small stack of the reading material she collected that also made her fall asleep and some less-than-impressive swag—lots of pens, a water bottle and a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. One picture in particular had him chuckling. It was of a big pancake with weird brown squiggles on it. The text that came with it said,
This
is
what
happens
when
you
try
to
write
“
I
miss
you
too
”
with
chocolate
syrup
.

The woman made him grin like an idiot. That last photo and text had come while he was working out with Alex and Jason at Power Play, and Jason had grumpily asked him what was so goddamn amusing. When he showed them the picture of the pancake, Alex rolled his eyes, whipped out his phone and showed him a picture of Leilani’s ass in a thong.

“Now that’s a picture.”

Tim chuckled, not the least bit jealous.

After the workout, Alex dragged them over to his car so they could see his new skates. “My old ones are about to fall apart. Plus they stink so bad, you can smell them through my duffel bag. Hobbs, my equipment manager last season, said he could ID my bag blindfolded.”

Jason patted Alex on the shoulder. “Your mom must be so proud.”

“Like your shit doesn’t stink,” Alex replied.

“These are nice skates,” Tim remarked, picking one of them up and examining it. “Fuck, what does this weigh? A pound?”

“It’s like I’m not wearing skates at all. And look here. The tongue is reinforced and they almost feel like slippers inside, but there’s a ton of protection.”

Tim took note of the brand, Bauer AVX. Skate technology had advanced since he’d last bought skates. His old ones, while worn in and familiar, were a bitch to dry. The rivets had all rusted long ago and the skates themselves weighed a ton.

“You know what? Fuck it. I’m gonna buy all new gear.”

And he did—skates, an entire set of pads and guards, top of the line gloves, a mouth guard and even a new cup. Everything was, honestly, pretty disgusting after years of hard use and repair. Like many hockey players, he tended to be superstitious, and sticking with gear that helped you win the Stanley Cup seemed like a good idea.

And yet, although the Cup win had been last season, his play had suffered for too long and he’d been traded because of it. Now that he’d changed teams, moved to a new city and started a new workout regime, he might as well go whole hog. Once he got used to the idea, his eagerness to use the stuff motivated him to pay extra for overnight shipping.

After the skates arrived, he went to the Barracuda Ice Center where the team trained. It was public skate time, but Tim didn’t care. He just wanted to break in his skates a little. The BIC had two rinks, an NHL rink and a smaller one he thought of as the Baby Rink. The NHL ice had the fewest skaters, so he headed there. On the way, he noticed some teeny-bopper Michelle Kwan wannabes, every single one of them gangly and awkward in their brightly colored outfits. They executed their moves with a stiffness that the talented girls would eventually smooth out. On the NHL rink, he found mainly boys and a few girls. These kids projected a rougher determination, their strides short and slightly robotic, their chubby cheeks bright pink. A few kids gave him the eye as laced up the new skates. Dressed in street clothes, he was still too new to the team to be recognized, even here at the BIC.

Breathing the cold, metallic air into his lungs invigorated him. His legs rejoiced at the familiar slippery slide and scrape as he put his new skates to the test. Although somewhat stiff still, they performed well. He couldn’t believe how light they were and felt stupid for sticking with his old skates for so long. Lighter skates meant more speed, less leg fatigue. He would like to have done some stick work today, some shooting, but that was a no-no during public skate. Still, he generally enjoyed himself.

He also followed up on the CityView apartment. He’d decided he didn’t want to make love to Erin for the first time in a goddamn hotel, so the sooner he got his own place, the sooner he could get naked with her. After a meeting with the sales agent, Tim decided he liked the four-bedroom three-and-a-half-bath floor plan. They had a corner unit available and because he was impatient and didn’t want to wait for an escrow to clear, he decided to rent so he could move in immediately.

Erin’s sister offered her services as a friendly neighborhood design consultant.

“What do you like?” she asked. “Contemporary? Classic? Retro?”

He thought about it while eating one of her cookies, oatmeal mango coconut this time. “This is going to sound stupid, but we did a team-building thing at California Adventure once and stayed in that hotel there, the one attached to the park. I really liked the way the lobby was decorated. I even asked about it, and they said it was something artsy.”

Claire nodded. “Arts and Crafts. It was an art movement. I took quite a few art history classes in college and I know it well. I adore that style and it’s perfect for you.”

That same day while he unpacked, she zipped around San Diego and took pictures with her phone of furniture, accessories and even artwork. She had an uncanny knack for finding stuff he liked. Either that, or he was highly susceptible to her suggestions. Together with Claire, he managed to rack up charges on his credit card like never before. Wherever possible he paid extra for next day delivery. The bank’s early fraud department called him to make sure all the purchases were valid.

He also met her husband, Vic, the limousine mogul. He was a nice guy with a sizable gut. After eating dinner at their place a couple of times, Tim could understand why. Claire was an excellent cook and she loved trying out new recipes. She thoughtfully cooked healthy meals after he told her he had to eat lean and mean. Vic liked to talk politics and smoke cigars. Claire made him do both out on the balcony. Tim joined him, but he usually passed on the cigar. Claire did her best to find out Tim’s intentions toward her sister, but as with his two best friends, he told her as little as possible.

The day before Erin was due back, Claire worked hard in Tim’s apartment on the finishing touches. Tim had an appointment with his lawyer that couldn’t be rescheduled, so he gave Claire a key. He also completed a longer-than-usual Power Play workout. Training camp started in only two days and Tim intended to outperform most of his teammates.

When he returned home, Vic and Claire surprised him with an aquarium of his own, set up in his entry. Tim had complimented them many times on theirs and he especially liked the Nemo fish—the little orange-and-white clown fish that hid out among the stinging anemones. The tank they picked out for him was a tall cylinder about two feet in diameter. They’d filled it with gorgeous rocks, plants and silvery fish with a brilliant blue tails.

“Holy crap, you guys,” Tim exclaimed as he circled it. The bottom was mahogany and housed all the equipment. The filters hummed so softly he barely noticed them.

“It’s a house warming gift,” Claire said.

“This is seriously too much.”

Vic waved a hand. “Didn’t cost me a thing. The tank designer and I did a little bartering, plus I promised him some primo hockey tickets along with a limo for the night. You can take care of the tickets, right?”

“Sure. Absolutely.” Tim peered at the slender fish and realized with a start what kind they were. “They’re barracudas, aren’t they?”

“What else?” Vic said. “They’re pretty aggressive and you have to supply them with guppy feeders every few days. If you want, I can give you the number of our aquarium-maintenance service.”

Tim shook hands with Vic. “Thanks so much. This is beyond amazing. And not just the tank. The whole apartment.” He hugged Claire. “You worked a miracle, Claire. I owe you big time. She still doesn’t know about this, right?”

“About the apartment? No. Not a thing. Not from us,” Claire said.

“Perfect.”

That evening, Tim made his bed with a deep rust, taupe and chocolate brown comforter set that felt manly and went with the furniture he and Claire had chosen. Much as he hated to admit it, his favorite part about the set was a decorative pillow with different colored circles on it. It was a sad state of affairs when a man felt strongly about a decorative fucking pillow. That proved he’d been spending too much time with Claire and listening to her chatter about textures and contrast and focal points, whatever the hell those were.

Still, he had to admit his place looked great. No one would ever guess that only a few days ago, this had been five empty rooms. Now, he had a comfortable living room with the biggest flat screen and best sound system money could buy. He had a furnished and decorated guest room, a dining room, office and gym. He especially liked his office, where Claire had helped him display personal memorabilia—his favorite NHL jerseys, his first NHL stick, photographs, magazine covers and a puck signed by the great Wayne Gretzky. Even his guest bathroom had flair. He always found it funny that a room where you pissed and took a shit needed decoration.

He got into bed naked and enjoyed the feel of the soft sheets. Erin was going to enjoy them. He imagined what she would look like in his bed, loose and relaxed from having just come. Her eyes would be half-closed and she’d have a smile on her face that he put there.

He picked up his phone and texted her.
What
do
you
wear
to
bed
?

He didn’t expect her to answer right away. Most of the time an hour or so went by before she answered him. She and Tammy were probably painting the town red. But his phone signaled a reply not thirty seconds later.

A
T
-
shirt
,
usually
.
You
?

Depends
.
Why
aren’t
you
eating
clam
chowder
out
of
a
bread
bowl
down
on
Fisherman’s
Wharf
?

Tammy’s
out
with
a
cousin
who
lives
across
the
bay
.
I
got
room
service
.

Wanting to hear her voice, he called her.

“What are you wearing right now?” he asked.

“I told you. A T-shirt.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m wearing?” He grinned.

“I think that’s just asking for trouble.”

“I was already in trouble before I called you,” he said. He almost told her he got new sheets, but remembered at the last minute that his new apartment was a surprise. “But what’s wrong with a little trouble?”

“If trouble isn’t wearing any clothes...”

Tim smiled to himself and dropped the pitch of his voice. “Trouble isn’t.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Tim Hollander, don’t you dare suggest what I think you’re suggesting.”

Erin felt her cheeks and other significant parts of her body get very warm. The rumbly bass sound of his voice reminded her how much she missed him.

“What? That I catch a plane, ambush you at your hotel, make love to you until you’re half-dead and leave like a thief in the night before Tammy gets back?”

She laughed. “Shut up. That’s not even possible.”

“You’re right. I could never leave you after sex because then I’d miss your early morning spoon ritual.”

She remembered that morning vividly...his hand on her butt, squeezing. Her face pressed up against his broad back. That rock-hard ass of his. The manly soap smell that made her want to lick every inch of his skin.

His rough voice cut through her imaginings. “I fantasize about that morning, by the way, and that’s a first for me.”

“You’re such a liar. You’re a man. I know for a fact that you’ve fantasized before.”

“No, I meant it’s a first that I fantasize about something that happened when we were both fully clothed. I can’t get you out of my mind, Erin. I’m serious.”

She pictured him stretched out on his hotel room bed just as she was.

Except he was naked.

“Hold on. Give me a second.”

Before she could change her mind, she ran to the door and put out the Do Not Disturb sign so Tammy would know to enter quietly and hopefully slowly. She doubted Tammy would be back anytime soon, but better safe than sorry. Then she took off her T-shirt and underwear, turned out the light and got back into bed.

“Erin,” he said, “What’s going on? What was that rustling?”

“Ask me what I’m wearing
now
.”

She heard a whispered “fuck.”

She smiled.

“Are you naked?” he asked in a tight voice.

“Yes.”

“Don’t tease me,” he warned. “Really?”

“Honest to God. I’m not wearing a stitch.”

She heard him blow out a breath. Her heart in her throat, she asked, “Are you getting hard?” She had to whisper it, even alone in her dark hotel room. It felt safer to whisper.

“Are you kidding?” He lowered his voice too. “I’ve been hard since you answered the phone. How about you?”

“I’m...I’m in a similar predicament.”

“Are you touching yourself? God, I hope so. Tell me what you feel.”

She slid her hand down her stomach and over her mound.

“What do you feel?” he prompted again.

“I’m really wet.”

“Fuck. I am going out of my fucking mind right now. I wish I could touch you.”

“Touch yourself instead,” she suggested. Picturing his hand stroking his long, thick cock excited her.

“I already am.”

She found it hard to lay still. “Are we having phone sex?” she asked.

“I sure fucking hope so.”

“I’ve never done that before,” she confessed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s easy. I’ll do all the talking if you want. All you have to do is pretend I’m there. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Close your eyes.”

“Okay.”

“Pretend we’re pressed up against each other and I’m kissing you. We’re as close as two people can get. Skin to skin. I kiss your face, your neck, your ear.”

He spoke slowly. His low, soothing voice in her ear there in the dark made it seem as if he were in the room with her doing all the things he was describing. He turned her on so much and he wasn’t even touching her.

“I cup your breast. I squeeze it. I can’t help myself, I put my mouth on you there. I’m sucking gently. Your nipple is hard. I rub it with my tongue.”

“Oh God, Tim.” Her breathing came raggedly now. She knew he could hear it. He sounded a little rough around the edges now too.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last too long, Erin.”

“It’s okay. I’m not either.”

He continued describing in graphic detail what he wanted to do to her and the moment he “eased a finger inside her,” she came. He stopped talking as she tried to muffle her gasps of pleasure, and then she heard him groan. The knowledge that he was coming too prolonged her orgasm. Afterward, neither spoke for a little while. She let herself drift on the last soft, shivery ripples of pleasure.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“God, I wish I could see your face right now. I can’t wait until you get back.”

She turned on her side. “While we’re on the topic, I have some bad news.”

“Smart of you to wait until after I came to tell me,” he said with a smile in his voice.

“I pulled two consecutive night shifts right after I get back to San Diego.”

“Damn it. That sucks. I’ll be in training camp all day.”

She sighed. “Ships that pass in the night.”

“It’s okay. We’ll survive. Waiting will just make it all that much sweeter when we do see each other.”

After they hung up, she reminded herself that once the chase was over, Tim would probably move on to someone else. She told herself she was fine with that. So what if it only lasted a little while? It’d be something she could remember for the rest of her life. When she was eighty, sitting on the porch with her old lady friends, she’d be able to brag about the hot affair she had with a hockey player back in the day.

But Tim didn’t fit her stereotype of a pro athlete. He seemed like just a regular guy who happened to play professional hockey for a living.

And she was just a regular girl. Did they have a future? She smiled. Maybe. Hopefully.