Fire And Ice. Tori Carrington

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СКАЧАТЬ almost perfect. There was still the man matter. And the little problem of what she was going to eat tonight.

      She went through her cupboards one by one. Empty cracker box. Dusty cans of lentil soup she couldn’t remember buying. A jar of peanut butter that was useless without jelly, even if she had the bread to spread it on. And her large collection of art deco plates was completely useless without anything edible to put on them except dog food. Dog food, she had.

      It was just after 7:00 p.m., dark as Hades outside, with absolutely nothing on television. And Jena was about to go crazy trying not to think about the realizations she’d come to with Mona and Dulcy’s help earlier in the day.

      Imagine, her without a man for three months.

      She stilled, her hand in the process of closing one of the cupboards, and wondered why then she wasn’t out on the prowl even now.

      Pizza. So what if she’d had it twice so far this week? A nice, thick Sicilian from Mario’s would do the trick right about now. And—who knew?—maybe the delivery boy would make her stop thinking about the sad state of her sex life.

      Within moments she had her pizza ordered, poured herself a glass of ever-present wine, fed Caramel a treat, then stepped into her large living room decorated in various shades of black, gray, red and white. There wasn’t a single mid-western or Indian piece in the two-bedroom condo. Well, aside from the foot-high iron Kokopelli on the side table next to the lamp. But that had been a gift from Marie and she was required to display it, so that didn’t count. Her tastes tended toward the more modern, citified look. She put her wineglass on the gray swirled marble coffee table, then picked up the remote control, flipping through the channels idly. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Caramel nosing in a flowerpot in the corner. The mutt had turned the plant over no fewer than ten times in four weeks. And, it seemed, obedience school had merely heightened the dog’s interest in the forbidden plant.

      “No!” Jena said, shaking her finger at the dog.

      Caramel looked at her, her snout covered with dirt.

      The doorbell echoed through the apartment.

      Jena frowned at the dog, then glanced toward the door. Strange. The pizza place had never been this quick before. Sure, they were only five minutes away, but she didn’t think even that amount of time had passed.

      She tossed the remote to the couch, shooed Caramel away from the plant, then headed for the door.

      But standing on the other side wasn’t some post-adolescent teen with bad skin and braces, holding a pizza. Instead there in all his sexy glory stood the focus of her daydreams as of late: Tommy “Wild Man” Brodie.

      Jena smiled so wide her face hurt. “How did you know you were just what I was looking to eat?”

      ONLY MOMENTS BEFORE, Tommy’s recovering knee had been throbbing, the pain made more acute by the thin chill of Albuquerque, his mood dark and grouchy. He’d been wondering what he’d been thinking, flying from L.A. on a whim, tired of sitting around his apartment by himself, sick of his own company, and not up to another round of smothering from his mother, albeit via the phone from Minnesota.

      But as he stood looking at the woman he’d been thinking about nonstop for the past three months, his mood lightened, he forgot about his knee, and certain body parts that had been dormant since that one incredible night with Jena McCade sparked to life.

      Hell, but she looked good. Damn good. Her shoulder-length black hair was slightly tousled as if she’d been running her fingers through it, her purple short, short nightgown shimmered in the light as she moved, and her violet eyes first looked large as hockey pucks, then squinted at him as she smiled that provocative smile he remembered so well.

      “Get in here,” her lush mouth said as she grabbed his arm and yanked him inside.

      And in Tommy went, the door slamming closed behind him, his duffel bag dropping to the ground as Jena practically launched herself into his arms. He automatically balanced his weight on his good knee as she wound her arms around his neck, then used them to pull herself up and straddle his hips, locking her bare feet behind his back.

      Pain shot up Tommy’s right knee, but he purposely ignored everything but the flames of craving licking through his bloodstream, filling him with a need for the woman even now launching a ravenous assault on his mouth.

      Absently, he noticed the yapping of a dog. But he was too far gone to look around for it. Instead he groaned and curved his hands up Jena’s legs then her bottom to support her. He wasn’t surprised to find that she wore nothing under the slinky number. Her skin was hot under his fingers as he dipped his tongue into her mouth, his eyes watching her under half-closed lids.

      She was even prettier than he remembered. Her angular features might have looked sharp on another woman, but they fit Jena to a T. She was as unpredictable as she was beautiful, and was the only woman up to this point in his life who had been able to match him stroke for stroke, lick for lick. In fact, in the twelve straight hours they’d spent together, she’d nearly undone him. Which was saying a lot considering his eight years on the professional hockey circuit spent sampling the willing fans and strangers alike offered up at every turn.

      Jena finally paused for breath, resting her forehead against his as she laughed huskily.

      Tommy slid his hands toward her slick flesh, stopping mere millimeters short. “Now that’s what I call a welcome.”

      “I aim to please.”

      “I know.”

      She glanced over his shoulder at his duffel. “How long you in town for?”

      He followed her gaze to find a blond boxer sniffing around the perimeter of the bag. “A couple of days.”

      Her provocative smile sent shivers down his spine. “That should do.”

      He chuckled as she unwound her legs from his hips and began to slide down. Her foot hit his knee brace.

      “Here, let me help,” he said, easily grasping her hips and putting her down on the floor.

      “What’s that?” she asked, feeling his brace through the loose denim of his jeans.

      He shrugged, following the ends of her silky dark hair with a fingertip. “Let’s just say I’m in need of some primo T.L.C.”

      She twisted her lips as she made a production out of looking him up and down. “I don’t know how tender or loving it’s going to be, but if it’s a workout you’re looking for…”

      “That’ll do.”

      “Good.”

      He grinned.

      She took his hand and began leading him back, presumably to her bedroom. Halfway there, she halted. “Wait a minute.”

      “I don’t know if I can.”

      “Well, you’re going to have to, unless you want a devil on four legs drooping on your face while you sleep.”

      “Who said anything about sleeping.”

      “Oh, a man after my own heart.”

      Tommy СКАЧАТЬ