Emma took a deep breath and stole a glance at her reflection in the mirrored walls of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel foyer as she abandoned her winter coat—a borrowed formal coat of Jess’s—at the coat check.
Oh God, what had she been thinking with the elaborate gown? Sure, the event was formal, but her go-to sensible stylish black pant suit blinged up with a pair of heels and jewelry would have sufficed.
The glimmering emerald fabric clung to every curve of her body, except where it flared slightly at the bottom, making it possible to walk. She was relieved that Asher hadn’t picked her up, because if he’d laughed or made any sort of discouraging face when he’d seen her, she’d have changed into the practical, fade-into-the-background outfit she was famous for.
This night she didn’t want to fade. She wanted to shine. For one man only. She hoped the slight sparkle dancing throughout the shimmering fabric might be enough to open his eyes a little. The jealousy he’d displayed at her sister’s dinner party was definitely a start, and his wanting to take her on a real date had given her something to grasp onto.
As she approached the ballroom doors, her four-inch heels clicking against the tiles drowned out her thundering heartbeat. She opened her clutch and retrieved her driver’s license. Ash had added her name to the guest list, but she still felt uncertain about arriving without him. “Hi, I’m Emma Callaway, a guest of Asher Westmore’s,” she told the woman holding a clipboard and wearing a headset, standing between two event security guards. She offered them a weak smile, but neither cracked the slightest of grins as they continued to stare straight ahead, the big, bulky bodies making sure no one crashed the party inside the ballroom.
The woman continued to flip through her will-call stack and frowned. “I’m not seeing your name here…Another name, perhaps?”
She only had one. “No. It should be under Emma Callaway.” Her face turned a shade pinker as several other people lined up behind her. Great. She was going to be the crazy woman who thought she was Asher Westmore’s date for the evening. The security guards looked ready to bounce her. “I’ll have to text him,” she muttered. Which meant she’d have to walk back across the hotel lobby to the coat check. The clutch hadn’t been big enough to store her iPhone, and against her better judgment, she’d abandoned the strapless padded bra at the last minute and gone braless, so there had been nowhere else to put the phone.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I can’t let anyone in unless their name is on the list.”
“I understand. Excuse me,” Emma said, turning and moving past the next couple in line.
“Emma, wait,” she heard behind her and turned gratefully.
“She’s with me,” Asher said, appearing at the door. But when his gaze took her in, his jaw dropped. “I think,” he muttered, not taking his eyes from her as he handed the woman with the clipboard her ticket from inside his suit jacket.
Her cheeks flamed, and she couldn’t decide if his open-mouthed stare was a good thing or a bad thing. Heat crept across her bare chest and shoulders, and her mouth was dry as she stepped closer to the door, praying she didn’t wipe out on the heels.
His eyes still glued to hers, Ash moved toward her. Taking her arm, he led her inside.
Pulling her to a private corner of the ballroom, he held her at arms’ length and shook his head. “Wow. What…where…Wow.”
She smiled. “Thank you,” she said, feeling her confidence returning. “You look pretty wow yourself.”
Dressed in a dark charcoal suit that stretched across his chest and shoulders, a dark green dress shirt, and black tie, it looked like they’d coordinated their outfits. His hair was combed to one side and gelled back away from his face, and he’d shaved. She couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have at least a little scruff, and while she loved his facial hair, he looked absolutely gorgeous clean-shaven. The smell of his soft yet manly cologne filled her senses as he pulled her closer, and she wished they were completely alone that evening, instead of surrounded by a bunch of NHL bigwigs and their families.
His resolution to not see her outside his therapy appointments had been frustrating, to say the least. Touching him during the sessions, watching the reaction her touch had on him, and thinking about the amazing sex they’d had in that very room only a few weeks before had driven her crazy. But nothing she’d tried had worked—not the sensual way she’d massaged his leg, not the way she’d whispered in his ear—he was adamant about taking a step back and taking things slower. While she appreciated the effort he was making to show her that it was no longer just about sex, she wanted him. Craved him. Especially when he looked so smoking hot and smelled so wonderful. She snuggled closer, enjoying the feeling of being near him. All day she’d been nervous as hell, but here with him now, she felt the tension ease away, replaced with an intense desire to be even closer.
“Do you have a hot date after this or something?” he whispered against her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tight.
His warm breath against her exposed neck made her shiver with anticipation and excitement to be there with him. Together. With him. But she shrugged casually. “You never know where the night could lead.” She pressed her body closer, her hands sliding up over his pecs, then higher to encircle his neck.
His gaze dropped lower to the view of her cleavage visible above the fabric of the dress, and his expression was pure longing when his eyes lifted back to hers. “Yes, I do,” he said, reluctantly releasing her, but keeping one arm around her. His hand firm on her waist, as he led the way toward his reserved VIP table at the front near the stage. “Your place. That dress better be easy to slip out of.”
* * *
He couldn’t stop looking at Emma. No matter how hard he stared, he couldn’t quite believe that the amazingly beautiful woman sitting next to him was his jeans-loving, casual best friend…girlfriend? Had they moved into that territory yet? God, as breathtaking as she looked tonight, he suddenly wanted her to be much more than that.
Funny how he could know someone so long, love them, even, and then like lightning a realization could hit. The jealousy he’d experienced the week before combined with the irresistible urge to announce to everyone in the room right now that she was with him, that she was his, was overwhelming.
Seeing her standing outside the ballroom in that dress had nearly knocked him on his ass. The way the fabric clung to her sexy, athletic yet feminine build had him practically drooling, and the way her short blond hair was slicked back made her cheekbones look even more pronounced, and elongated her slim, delicious-looking neck.
He couldn’t wait to mess her up.
Watching her laugh now as the general manager of the Devils flirted with her, his heart pounded in his chest. He’d asked her here to help put him at ease over the speech and Ben and being around his fellow athletes after the injury, the way she normally did, but she was having the complete opposite effect.
His palms were damp, his mouth felt like sandpaper, and a pool of sweat gathered at his lower back beneath his suit jacket. She was gorgeous, she was smart, and she was funny. She was the one person in the world he always knew he could count on and the only one he wanted to be with.
“You didn’t mention your girl was a former Olympic athlete,” Coach Hamilton said next to him.
She hadn’t exactly been his girl until tonight.
Though he knew deep down she’d always been his girl. Man, he’d been so blind…or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to see, hadn’t been ready to acknowledge what she really meant to him. There was no denying it now.
His gaze locked with hers as he nodded. “Yes. She was—is—an amazing snowboarder.”
Across from him, he could hear his GM praising her as well. He’d always known his best friend was universally known and admired for her talent, but he’d never had the privilege of watching her bask in the compliments as she was now.
She was beaming as she talked about her time on the slopes and the opportunity of being in the Olympics. And everyone around the table was taken by her enthusiasm and passion.
“So, I assume you two will be heading to Breckenridge next weekend?” his coach said.
Asher paused. Right. The snowboarding Winter Tour competition was next weekend in Breckenridge. Only a short drive from Glenwood Falls. Could he convince Emma to go? “Yeah, maybe we will,” he said.
Asher sat back and drank his beer as he thought about it. Would she go? Not to compete, but just to watch the competitions. She’d avoided the slopes and attending the events for the last three winters. He hadn’t pushed, knowing it was probably too painful at first to watch, not being able to compete. But it had been four years…
All eyes at the table were on her. She had his coach, GM, and several other players and their dates mesmerized as she spoke.
And Asher’s emotions whirled into an even bigger tornado. She was planning on going to Florida and moving on with her new future. But right now, talking about her past, her real passion was lighting her up like the Christmas lights decorating the room.
Was she as ready to put her past career behind her as she claimed?
The glimmer of excitement in her eyes and her flushed cheeks as she recounted the training leading up to the Olympics made him think otherwise. Breckenridge might be the way to find out.
She glanced his way. “Sorry, I’m talking too much,” she said as she sipped her wine.
He shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. No. Now she was finally talking. He leaned closer, torturing himself with the scent of peppermint coming from her bare skin and whispered, “You have a captive audience.”
He was certainly captured.