Razors Ice 04 - Hot Ice (3 page)

Maybe he was a celebrity after all. If her brothers and dad had taught her anything about cars, she knew
that not just any old Regular Joe drove a Porsche.

“Thanks,” he said and
climbed behind the wheel.

Violet
opened the passenger door and gripped it carefully so that the wind wouldn’t bang it against the parking meter. When she slid into the black leather seat, it molded around her in pure, delicious luxury. The people at Porsche sure knew how to design a car.

W
hen she looked down to secure the seatbelt, Violet noticed her nipples poking through her bra and shirt.

Yikes.

She pulled the windbreaker closed, hoping the man hadn’t noticed her involuntary headlights. No amount of bra padding could stand up to the ferocity of the Red Valley air currents.

When he
settled into the seat next to her, Violet noticed how big the man was. He was at least 6’2’’ and probably weighed around 225 lbs. She wondered how she hadn’t noticed him when she first walked by him on the sidewalk.

Oh, that’s right
. Because her eyeballs were frozen.

The wind howled outside the car
and suddenly Violet was glad she wasn’t outside in the elements anymore. One thing was for certain, the wind hadn’t blown the man’s scent away because she could smell his aftershave from the driver’s seat. It was spicy yet sporty with a hint of the exotic thrown in for good measure.

Like he needed anymore help on the sexiness scale
, she thought with a sigh.

His long legs stretched out and he had
absolutely no trouble reaching the gas pedal like she did sometimes. Her brothers were always giving her shit about how close she moved the seat up to the steering wheel. “Like an old Granny with her nose pressed against the windshield,” they teased her.

Pushing away thoughts of her pesky brothers,
Violet continued her perusal of the man beside her. At the top of the man’s long legs, his coat fell away to reveal muscular thighs underneath dark denim jeans. Violet gulped. He must do a lot of lunges and squats when he wasn’t giving women rides across town in his fancy SUV. His hands were big, too, she noticed and he rested his palms comfortably on the leather steering wheel. Fascinated, Violet watched as he ran his hand through his hair and wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

He
started the car—which most likely had a full tank of gas, Violet was sure of it—and cranked up the heater. “Where to?” he asked.

“
Uh, Healing Touch on Spruce Street,” she answered, tearing her gaze from his big, manly hands. Sheesh, this cold weather was really wreaking havoc on her system. And her libido. First she’d accepted a ride from a complete stranger and then she had the nerve to blatantly check him out from head to toe like he was some piece of meat at the grocery store.

Indifferent to
or unaware of her ogling, the man pulled away from the curb and into traffic. When the warm air from the heater vent blasted Violet’s face, she was relieved to start feeling her extremities. She wanted to crawl into the vent and wait there until winter passed and she could feel her fingers and toes again.

“I really appreciate this,” she said again
, basking in the warm air.

“Like I said, it’s no problem. I’m going that direction anyway.”

He had a great voice, too, to go along with those great big hands of his. His voice was smooth and confident and gave her shivers where there shouldn’t be any.

“This is a great car
,” Violet commented and pulled her mind firmly out of the gutter.

“
Thanks.”

Silence settled between them. The heater was the only sound
inside the car and Violet wondered what kind of music he would be listening to if he hadn’t decided to give her a ride. Before she could give it much thought, he broke the silence after stopping at a red light.

“
So what’s your story?” he asked. He glanced over at her and his blue eyes pinned her to the seat. “Did you just decide it was a nice day for a stroll?” Just about everyone in California owned a car, so he didn’t think lack of transportation was her problem. “Or are you having car trouble?”

Violet tried to hide her embarrassment, but her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink.
“Car trouble. That’s a nice way of putting it,” she said through a nervous laugh. “It’s kind of embarrassing actually. My car ran out of gas a couple of blocks from here. I was running around doing errands all morning and I guess I lost track of the gas gage,” she explained. The flimsy excuse made her sound like an airhead and she hated herself for it. Her brothers would never let her live this down. Then she just wouldn’t tell them about it. What they didn’t know couldn’t be used against her.

“I’d be happy to take you to the gas station
,” he offered. “There’s one on Alder
Street.”

“Thanks,
but no.” Violet glanced at the clock on the dash. “I’m on my way to work and I’m already running late as it is.” Great. Patricia was going to tear her a new one for today’s debacle.

“
Okay. Well, I’m glad you changed your mind and accepted a ride or you’d probably be a Popsicle by now.”

Violet
shivered at the thought. By the time she’d reached him on the sidewalk, she’d already been halfway there. “Yeah. Wasn’t it just 90 degrees last week?”

“
Feels like it.” That was Red Valley for you. Northern California was one case of extreme weather after another. “We never get much of a fall,” he pointed out. “Or a spring for that matter.”

So, he
was
local and not just some out-of-town celebrity who cruised the streets for airheaded women.

Speaking of extremes, Violet was beginning to heat up. Really heat up. Suddenly, a warming sensation spread beneath her bottom and she couldn’t quite figure out how
her butt had become so wonderfully toasty. “Huh?” she said out loud shifting around in her seat. Sure, the sound of his voice made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but…

He
raised an eyebrow at her wiggle worm routine and then it finally dawned on him. “Seat warmer,” he explained with that lopsided smile that notched up her body temperature a few degrees more.

“Oh,” she smiled back. “Thank you. That feels really nice.”

She looked over at him and stole another glance at his face while his eyes were focused on the road. His profile was strong like the rest of him. It looked like he’d shaved that morning, but a dark sprinkling of stubble was already starting to show on his strong jaw. The way his hair fell over his brow made a woman want to reach right over and smooth it away.

Violet shoved the thoughts away and scolded herself. What had gotten into her today? These inappropriate thoughts were unsettling as well as
reprehensible. Thankfully, he pulled the SUV up to her office before she could imagine him out of that fabulous coat of his.

He pulled as close to the entrance as he could so she wouldn’t have far to walk.
Not only was he a good Samaritan, he was considerate, too. Violet appreciated his thoughtfulness.

“Thanks again for the ride.”

“Not a problem.”

She
reached for the door handle, ready to dash for the warm office. She couldn’t bear to lose her core temperature again.

For a split second
though, she hesitated to get out of the car. Not just because of the freezing wind outside, but because she liked his company. It wasn’t often she found herself in a fancy car with someone who possessed such magnetism and masculine prowess. But she had to get to work before Patricia had a conniption fit.

Before she could change her mind, s
he opened the door and stepped out into the wind. What an incredible turn of events. This morning her car had left her stranded and then she’d been rescued by the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

The car door shut with an expensive sound and Violet hurried
toward the warm comfort awaiting her inside Healing Touch.

Chapter Three

Healing Touch

When she pushed
passed the door of Healing Touch and into the lobby, Violet was instantly surrounded by delicious warmth. As usual, Patricia had the heater cranked up to the Sahara desert setting. It usually annoyed her, but today Violet welcomed the heat after her morning excursion in the bone-rattling cold.

Violet and Patricia had spent the past five years developing and growing their massage therapy practice
and Violet still felt a sense of pride every time she saw their logo on the door. When they started out they were barely able to pay their rent space and slowly but surely built up enough clients to break even and eventually make a profit.

Violet had met Patricia at The Muscle Therapy Institute of Northern California where they became quick friends. Between Violet’s passion and natural talent
for massage and Patricia’s determination and brains for business, the two had managed to create an oasis of overall relaxation and wellness for the community of Red Valley.

The office was decorated in muted
earth tones and Zen music played softly in the background. Patricia’s lucky bamboo plant sat on its usual place on the counter. A variety of green potted plants and lush ferns were painstakingly arranged around the waiting area. The relaxing décor was Patricia’s doing because Violet couldn’t keep a cactus alive even if her life depended on it.

“Nice day for a stroll, huh, Pats?” Violet joked through her numb lips.
The short dash inside from the parking lot had left her cold again.

Patricia looked up from the front desk with a look of confusion contorting her
lean face. Patricia wore the same polo shirt and slacks uniform as Violet and her soccer mom haircut was meticulously smoothed and hair sprayed into place. “Not particularly,” she answered. “What are you talking about?”

Violet draped her arms over the counter and Pat
ricia frowned. “You’ll never believe what happened to me this morning.”

Patricia rolled her eyes. “You weren’t abducted by aliens, were you?”

“No.” More like a tall drink of athletic water. And he hadn’t technically abducted her. He’d just been at the right place at the right time. With the right amount of sex appeal to jumpstart her libido back to life.

No, Violet chastised herself. She wasn’t allowed to think about that.

“My car ran out of gas, so I had to walk partway here. Thankfully, someone was nice enough to drive me the rest of the way.” Violet rubbed her hands together as her circulation began circulating again. Man, what a morning.

“You got a ride from a stranger?” Patricia asked in horror.
“Violet, what have I told you about—?”

“He was a…a
Good Samaritan,” Violet cut in, falling short of doing justice to the magnificent male specimen who had come to her rescue. Huh. She hadn’t even gotten his name. Dang it. That was unfortunate. It would have been nice to put a name to that face. And body. And those
hands
…

“Are you okay?” Patricia asked with the motherly tone she always used with her five year old son, Carter.

“Yeah.” Violet took off her coat and then panic gripped her. “I’m not late, am I?” She glanced over at the clock in the waiting area and it read 10:24. Patricia was motherly, but she’d skin Violet’s hide if she was even a minute late.

“No,” Patricia replied
sounding almost disappointed. “As a matter of fact, your 10:30 hasn’t even arrived yet.” That definitely disappointed her. Clients who were late threw the entire schedule into a tailspin. “Since we have a few minutes, can I talk to you in the office for a quick second?”

“Sure
. I need to put my coat away anyway.”

In the office, Violet hung up her
useless excuse for a jacket and stashed her purse in the bottom drawer of the desk. She combed through her auburn hair with her hands before pulling it back into a messy pony tail.

Patricia came in behind her and
sat down at the desk while Violet stood.

“So, how’s your friend Dennie?”
Violet asked.

Patricia huffed. “
Friend
doesn’t belong in that sentence, Violet, and you know it.”

After Patricia and her husband, John, had separated, Patricia went on a date with Dennie after meeting him at a coffee shop. Patricia thought he was harmless enough, but after only one date, Dennie quickly became obsessed. When she told him things weren’t going to work out between them
, he turned all stalker-y on her.

“Sorry,” Violet mumbled. But the idea of
Plain Jane Patricia having a stalker seemed much too farfetched for Violet to comprehend.

“
And to answer your question, I haven’t heard from Dennie in a while. Things have been pretty quiet since I filed a restraining order.”

“Jeez, Pats.
” Violet grew serious and her voice became concerned rather than skeptical. “A
restraining order
? Did something happen that you didn’t tell me about?”

Patricia made a pained expression and let out a heavy sigh. “Dennie showed up at my
house last week and…”

Violet gasped.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No. He just grabbed me and tried to push his way into the house.”

“Oh, no!” Violet exclaimed. “Was Carter home when this happened?”

“No, luckily he was still
in school.”

“
You think he’ll try to bother you again?”

“Let’s hope not. But just in case, I’ve made it into sort of a game for Carter. He knows to tell me or his teacher if he sees Dennie or his truck
hanging around the school.”

“Kind of like
Where’s Waldo?
”

“Yeah.
A creepy, delusional
Where’s Waldo?
Anyway,” Patricia waved her hand, dismissing the thought of Dennie and his creepiness. “I’ve got good news.”

“Good,” Violet sighed. “Because I thought you might have called me in here to scold me or something.” Violet plopped into a chair and propped her feet on the desk.

Patricia frowned at Violet’s feet.              “Why? Did you do something wrong? Oh, never mind.” She shooed Violet’s feet off the desk. “I don’t even want to know. Listen, Violet, things are looking up. My friend Gordon Martin called me last night.”

“
Oooh, Pats.” Violet cooed and leaned forward, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Am I sensing a little late night phone sex or a flat out booty call?”

Patricia rolled her eyes and primly straightened
the cardigan sweater she wore over her polo shirt. “Neither, Violet. Now,
please
focus. Gordon has given us a fantastic business opportunity.” Patricia stood, retrieved a file from the cabinet and sat back down.

Violet rolled the name around, trying to remember where she’d heard it before.
Gordon Martin
. “Gordon Martin,” she said out loud, hoping it would jar her memory. “He works for the Razors right?”

The Razors were Red Valley
’s professional ice hockey team. Despite the team’s lousy record, the United National Hockey League was proud to have a team in Northern California and the city was hopelessly loyal to them. No matter how disastrously they fared in the division’s standings.

“Yes.” Patricia looked surprised that Violet would remember. “Gordon is the
Razors’ massage therapist and he’s looking for some outside help. The team has a lot of injured players right now and massage obviously helps keep them loose and healthy. Gordon asked me if he could refer some players to us. This could be really great for us, Violet.”

Violet’s eyes widened at the opportunity. This meant they’d make ends meet for the month
and she’d get to work on real athletes. This was
great
news! “
And
…,” she prompted.

“And,” Patricia continued, “I told him we would absolutely
love
to be of service.” With a special interest in sports massage, Patricia was looking forward to working on a professional athlete as opposed to the minor players and weekend warriors she sometimes saw. “In fact, our first player just happens to be your 10:30. He’s scheduled for Mondays and Wednesdays and more often if needed. I have one of his teammates coming in later this afternoon. I know you want to focus on specializing in seniors, but I could really use your help. Whenever these guys need us, we have to make ourselves available.”

Violet swallowed and her stomach quivered in anticipation. “Great.” Today w
asn’t looking so bad after all.

“
Gordon already sent over his medical information and I created a folder for him.”

Patricia handed Violet the folder and she scanned the file.
Broken wrist five years ago. Concussion three years ago. Partial tear of the medial collateral ligament in his knee. A variety of broken bones, a concussion and multiple skin lacerations. Yup, that was her hockey player all right.

“Do you think you can give me a ride to the gas station?”
Violet asked, closing the folder. “After my 10:30 of course.”

Patricia hu
ffed the same way she did when Carter asked a question that was impossible to answer. “There isn’t time. You’re booked through the afternoon.”

Of course she was. Sometimes Violet thought she should have Patricia schedule in potty breaks, too.

“I’ll take you to the gas station later. Why didn’t you call Phillip?”

Naturally
Patricia would ask that question. Just because Violet’s fiancé was a doctor, everyone automatically assumed that he was Mr. Amazing and Dependable. Too bad their relationship wasn’t so amazing and dependable behind closed doors.

“He’s u
sually in surgery all morning,” Violet answered, not telling her the real reason. No one wanted to hear about her problems. Least of all Patricia. When her marriage had crumbled and her ex had fled the scene, she’d been left to raise Carter all by herself. The last thing Patricia wanted to hear was all about how Violet’s successful fiancé was an incredible jerk.

The bell on the front door jingled and Patricia smiled. “That must be your hockey player. Well, you
don’t want to keep him waiting now, do you?”

Violet
got up and made her way into the waiting room, scanning the player’s file one last time. So, they were really getting the business of a bona fide hockey club. If business continued to pick up, they might eventually be able to move to a bigger office like Patricia was always rambling on about. Patricia’s dream was to expand Healing Touch into a wellness clinic complete with a nutritionist on duty, spa and the whole shebang. It didn’t make much difference to Violet because she made so many house calls that she was rarely at the office anyway. Either way, business was looking up.

Violet would have sighed in relief
, but she was too distracted by the hunk of man sitting in the waiting area. The first thing she noticed about him was how he seemed to fill up the tiny space and leave room for nothing else. Including oxygen. His presence alone was enough to buckle her knees.

When he looked up
from the magazine he was flipping through and met her gaze, she nearly dropped the folder in surprise. “It’s you!” Violet exclaimed.

“It’s me,”
replied her Good Samaritan.

Violet looked down at the
red tab on the file that Patricia had neatly labeled with her color-coding system. “Jace…McQuaid.
Jace McQuaid
, the hockey player?”
Obviously
, she thought, resisting the urge to smack the heel of her hand against her forehead.

“The one and only
,” he smirked.

She slapped her
hand against thigh. “That’s where I’ve seen you! I knew you looked familiar. Gosh, I didn’t recognize you without your helmet on.”

He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.
“Is that why you were looking at me funny on the ride over here?”

She flushed.
“
That
and I was deciding whether or not you were a rapist,” she admitted with a laugh.

“Ah.” He raised his eyebrows
and nodded. “What made you decide to trust me?”

She thought about it
and replied, “Your eyes.” She looked into their blue depths and once again what she saw there gave her the shivers. “You have trustworthy eyes,” she decided with a nod.

“Thanks.”

From inside the office, Patricia cleared her throat and Violet reluctantly wrenched her eyes away from their sexy new client. She could almost hear her partner scolding her through the thin walls.

Stop chatting with the cute boy, Violet.

Yes mother!

“Oh,
I’m sorry, Jace, I almost forgot.” Violet took a step forward and stuck her hand out. “My name is Violet and I’ll be taking care of you today.”