Cold as Ice (16 page)

He takes two steps back. “I just thought . . . that you . . . that I . . .” He scratches the back of his neck and keeps his hand there while staring at the crushed gravel. “I don't know what came over me.” His eyes find hers. There's a pull of desire in his gaze that captures her.

She doesn't want him this way.

“Thank you for driving me here. I appreciate it,” she says, matter-of-fact.

“No problem.” He thrusts his hands into his pants pockets. “Glad I was there. You're safe.”

“Yes. Thank you. Well, good night.” She opens her car door.

“Oh, Carla?”

She pivots before sitting down in her seat.

“I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not upset.” She tightens her mouth. Why couldn't he be a lousy kisser? It would make this easier.

“I wanted to see if there was something there.” His eyelids crease and he tilts his head slightly. “You're not?”

“No . . . no . . . I . . . um . . . I'm not looking for a fling. I don't do that. And I'm not what you're looking for. Trust me.” She sits and starts up her car, watching Devin kick rocks as he makes his way to his vehicle.

She can't fall for this guy. If he only knew she was looking for a guy wanting to commit and start a family together....

C
arla gets ready for work, throwing a granola bar into her purse. She freezes when she spots the white envelope. She should have given it to Devin last night at the tow yard. What should she tell him? If she keeps the letter for a bit longer, maybe there will be an opportunity to slip it in his car, or somehow tell him she found it and hand it to him. So many stories go through her head. Any of them would be easier than telling Devin she's been in touch with his dad.

Her cell phone rings. She slides her finger across the screen to accept the call and braces the phone between her ear and shoulder as she takes out a pair of her favorite black flats from her hall closet.

“Carla, it's Mike Donald from Sports National.”

She drops her shoes and purse on the floor. “Oh, hi!” Carla moves to the couch to sit so she can think and listen to Mike tell her she has the job. She'll have to find a place to move to, sell her car, hire movers....

“You're still at Channel Five?”

“That's right,” she says, beaming. Her heart races.

“How's it going there?”

“Fine. Yes, it's good, you know, but—”

“Is Russ still there? Last time I heard he was station manager.”

“He is.”

“Good for him. Russ has a way of getting people to do things for him. I'm sure he's excelling at it.” He laughs. “That's great. That's great. Listen, the reason I'm calling is we've had a huge response for our reporter position.”

“Yes! Yes!”

“And we've narrowed it down to twenty. Phew. I tell you, it's been the hardest position to cover yet. We don't know why. We had a Web reporter position posted and didn't get nearly as much response as this.”

“It's a great company,” she says off the top of her head. “It's the top position for any sports reporter, working with retired players, seasoned media professionals. . . .”

He laughs. “It's a hard decision, no doubt. We want to hire the right person, so you can imagine how tough this has been.”

“Uh-huh.” She flexes her toes. The excitement is too much. Maybe this is it. Maybe she's destined to move across the country, start a new life and find the person she needs to settle down with.

“Ryan Peller listed you as a reference. What can you tell me about Ryan? Is he a good employee?”

“Oh.” She sinks into her couch. “Yes, he's good.”

“How good is he at his job? And I'm not talking about a pretty face.” Mike bursts out laughing. “He sent us a picture on his résumé.”

“Ryan's good,” she says again, feeling the excitement disperse like a deflated balloon. “He does his job well. Aims to please.”

“I like that! Would you say he's independent and can work on his own, without supervision?”

“I'd say so.”

“How is he to get along with?”

“Good.” She pouts.

“All right, then. Thanks.”

Does Ryan have the same intentions? Is he reaching for similar goals? He's young and energetic. He has a better chance because he's a guy.

“He loves what he does and doesn't want to disappoint, so you'd be getting a great employee if you hired Ryan.”

“That makes my decision easier. Thank you!”

“Mike, by any chance did you see my résumé?”

“You applied for this job?”

“I did.”

He shuffles papers. “I don't see you in the pile. I have the top twenty applicants; sorry. I don't have it here. It was for this position?”

“Yes.”

“Nope. Sorry. Don't see it. We do keep résumés on hand for six months. You never know. We'll contact you if there are new positions to apply for.”

“Thank you,” she manages to say and hangs up the phone. It's time to head to work, where she gets a call from her mom as soon as she sits down.

“Did you hear from Gavin?”

“No, not lately. What's up?”

“They booked the day.”

“Great.”

“I heard Gavin wants you as one of the bridesmaids.”

“I hardly know Mia.”

“What do you mean? She's at every family function. Christmas, birthdays—”

“I don't know her. Isn't that strange to you?”

“Not really. You and Gavin are close. Anyway, I'm planning on an engagement dinner. Next Saturday. I already checked, the Warriors aren't playing, so you and your dad won't be itching to go.”

“Where are you having it?”

“I thought I'd have it here or at the Olive Garden. Apparently it's where they had their first date.”

“How nice.”

“I'm inviting family and some friends. You can bring a date if you want.”

“Probably not.”

“No date? How about Devin?”

“I knew you'd say that.”

“Well, you have a week to change your mind.”

“Mom, I'm fine being by myself.”

“We all are, Care Bear, but no one likes eating alone.”

“I live by myself and I'm fine with it.”

“Sure you are. I'd better go. I have a list of people I have to call, and then I'll make the reservations.”

“Do you know what they need for an engagement gift?”

“Oh, right. I'd better ask if Sadie can bring her minivan to haul the gifts back from the restaurant. Thanks for reminding me. Why don't you bring Timothy, then?” she asks as an afterthought.

“Are you out of your mind? No, I'm not. We're divorced, and divorced couples don't socialize with each other.”

“But you're still friends.”

“We work together. We have to get along,” Carla says. “We're civil people.”

“It would be nice to see him. You know, he was part of our family.”

“Not anymore. Maybe I'll ask Gabby to come,” Carla suggests.

“Sure. Didn't Gavin and she used to date?”

“No, that was Michelle. I have to go. I'm at work.” She hangs up as she turns into the parking lot and loads her arms with an oversize bag, her purse and a travel cup of coffee.

Carla gets to her desk, fires up her computer and takes a tin of mints out of her purse.

“Ryan,” she says, watching him walk through the studio. She holds up her hand, motioning him to come over to her.

“Hey!”

“I didn't know you used me as a reference.” She pops a mint into her mouth.

“I was going to tell you about that.” He cups his hands together. “Did they call?” He gives her a sideways grin, just enough so she can see his white front teeth. “They did, didn't they?”

She nods. “Yes.” She breaks off a piece of granola bar and pops it into her mouth. “You didn't tell me you were looking for another job.”

He presses his hand down in the air. “I don't want anyone to know,” he says quietly.

“Okay. I won't say anything.”

“I'm not worried about you.”

She pushes her face in and brings her hand to her chest. “About me? What's there to worry about?”

“Jay applied for the same job. He's sure he's got it because of his experience.”

“That doesn't mean anything,” Carla says, deciding that she would keep her application a secret as well. “A big part of what they hire on is personality.”

“Jay has personality.”

“So do you.” Ryan had that cool swagger that made him seem older than his twenty-five years.

“Jay has more experience than me. He worked for sports radio before this. What did they ask you?”

She breaks apart another piece of granola bar. “The usual. Do you need supervision? Can you work on your own? That sort of thing.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I said you're a good employee. You work hard.” She chews her snack.

“Thanks, Carla. I really need this.”

“You're not happy here?”

“I am. It's just that I'm from Toronto and it would be nice living in the same city as my family. If I stay here, it would be nice to get higher up on the food chain. I may be considered a junior reporter longer than I like.”

“I see. Well, good luck. I hope you get it.”

Ryan walks off and Carla clicks on her e-mail. She filters through the messages and writes down story ideas as she goes. As she replies to an e-mail, the lanky legs of a guy in jeans distract her. She looks up. “Hi,” she says softly to her ex.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.” She sits back in her chair, staring up at him.

“I didn't know when to ask you this, but I'm stuck.” He folds his arms to his chest. “I don't know what to do about Freddie.”

She drops her chin. “Your cat? Is he okay? He's only five. He's healthy, isn't he?”

“Yeah, yeah. Freddie's good. Healthy. It's just that I need to find him a home, and I thought that you might—”

“A home? I bought Freddie for you. He's your cat.”

Timothy grits his teeth so that his cheeks puff out and his eyes start to squint. “I know, but I'm hardly home.”

“Cats are self-sufficient.” She talks with her hands. “If he moves, that will really mess him up. You know cats aren't good with change. They hate moving. Where are you moving to?”

“I'm not.”

“Then why don't you want him?”

There's a pause, and Carla's eyes grow bigger. She sucks in a breath. “You're getting rid of Freddie because he reminds you of me, is that it? The cat. We've been apart for three years and now it's the cat that's bothering you? I still have our kitchen table and I use it. I'm not getting rid of it.”

“It's solid oak.”

“So?”

“So it's a good piece of furniture. I told you if you ever wanted to get rid of it, I'd take it back.”

“And how about the glass vase from your aunt? The one with frosted glass ribbons around it?” They divided up their possessions when they divorced. She didn't think there was anything left.

“You liked it. I didn't.” He clears his throat. “Will you take Freddie? If not, I'll find him a good home.”

“You wanted that cat because he reminded you of Sniffles, your childhood cat.”

He snickers. “We both wanted a pet, and a cat seemed like the best choice since we were both out of the house for extended periods of time,” he says coolly.

She stands and lets out a breath. “Where else can he go?”

“I don't know who will want him.”

“I don't want a pet, but I guess if nobody will take him—”

“Thanks.” He nods his head with approval. “I knew you would.”

She walks off with the realization that she has inherited a cat when it's the last thing she wants. If only adopting a baby was easier.

T
he kiss. It has been on Devin's mind since he left the tow yard. Carla was incredible. Why did he want her so badly? She was probably used to relationships and had expectations. It was clear she didn't want anything to do with him, but there was one thing for certain: He wanted more of her. The kiss was a tease for something more. She wouldn't let him get close to her, he was sure.

Devin skates hard around the ice until he gets to a pile of pucks. He picks one up with the blade of his stick and skates with it to the other end, taking a shot at his goal.

“Nice one,” Devin says about the glove save and slows down as he skates back toward the bench.

“Miller!” Coach Steve calls. “Try that again. This time shoot blocker side. I bet you'll get it.”

Devin takes his advice and skates for the blue line to pick up a puck. He flicks a couple of practice shots off the boards before skating hard to the net. He looks at the goalie and winds up and shoots. The puck skips over the blocker and in.

“That'll do it!” Steve yells and blows his whistle. “We've got a game against the Hawks tomorrow. I want lots of shots on net and defense. Remember, do your job and take your man. Last time they killed us. We let them walk right in.”

Devin steps off the ice and into the locker room to shower and dress. He walks outside in the afternoon sun and is greeted by five young women, all wearing tight tops and big smiles.

“Hi, ladies,” Devin says. Does he stay or leave? It's tempting to invite them for a drink and, if all goes well, invite them back to his house. But how is he ever going to settle down if that's the only way he's going to meet women? He takes another glance at the woman with long curly brown hair and a miniskirt. Her legs are as long and lean as a cheerleader he used to date. Tempting. Where would that get him? It's short-term. It's not like Carla will be knocking at his door anytime soon.

“What are you doing here, hanging out at the back of the building?” he asks the curly-haired woman among the few kids with Sharpie pens and paper.

“Waiting for you,” she says, shifting her weight to one side. “What do you say we grab a drink?”

“Are you old enough to drink?”

“I'm of age, if that's what you're asking. My girl Tina here has a thing for Alex Price. Any chance you can call him over, and maybe the four of us can hang out?”

He clears his throat. An elbow taps his arm. “Pricey, we were just talking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks with a raised chin. The two-inch scar on his cheek creases when he smiles. “Are we going somewhere?”

“You're taking us for a drink,” Tina says.

“We are?” Alex asks.

“My friend and I want to have fun. You guys are fun.” The one woman takes a closer step toward Devin and licks her bottom lip, playing with a long curl, wrapping it around her finger.

Devin knows what it means when women hang out at the rink. Their only purpose is to hook up with one of them and then tell everyone about it. Devin thinks about Carla.

Alex steps closer to Devin and whispers in his ear. “What do you say we head out for a drink with these hotties?”

“Nah, I'm going to pass.”

“You have something better in mind?” Alex snickers.

“I'm going home.”

“Ah, someone's waiting for you.” He gives him a thumbs-up. “Got it. Right. See you at the game.”

Devin grins and saunters through the parking lot. It was too easy to hook up with one of those women. Why can't he stop thinking about Carla? She doesn't want him, but why? He has everything going for him: single, wealthy, a good job and hasn't disappointed a lady as far as he knows. What will change her mind?

Devin starts his Range Rover when it hits him: She hasn't given him a tour of the city like she promised. A bottle of wine, a blanket and a little place he just discovered on the North Shore. A smile forms. Time to step up his game.

But right now he has something important to do before dinner: visit his sick little friend Jason, who has been on his mind. Devin doesn't enjoy hospitals and everything they expose him to, like the smell. He doesn't know exactly what that cool air brings, like an attic with a trunk of old clothes. It's unsettling because outcomes are unknown and people's lives are at risk.

Since moving to Vancouver, he was told this was one of the expectations for every player. He tried to be committed to every charity his hockey team supported, but sometimes they hit him harder than others. Devin remembers when he broke his arm playing on the school playground. Sitting in the cast room hadn't been that bad. He knew he'd be bandaged up and sent home, a minor injury. Even when he got boarded in a hockey game when he was younger and had a separated shoulder, he knew he would just be out of the game for six weeks. He would heal and be back playing.

Nothing could prepare him for the Children's Hospital. It got to him every time. It was never easy making the trip—it was sometimes a battle to step inside—but when the time was up, Devin was glad he'd gone. Seeing the smile on the kids' faces was worth it.

Devin is chaperoned by a nurse through an open door.

“There he is!” the nurse says. “Still fighting the bad guys?” she asks Jason, who is holding a computer game up to his face.

“I lost. I'm on a new game.”

“I wouldn't even know what to do with it,” she admits.

“It's easy!” Jason says and pauses his game, bringing it down to his lap.

The nurse turns to Devin. “You know how to use those things?”

“I can probably figure it out.” Devin grins at the eight-year-old with pale skin. “How are you doing, buddy?”

“Good,” the boy answers, turning off his game.

Devin takes a seat at his bedside. The boy, with a bald head and no eyebrows, makes Devin sad with worry. The more Devin sees Jason, the more attached he feels, always wondering how he's holding up and getting through chemotherapy.

“I brought you something.” Devin hands him a sports bag.

The boy's face lights up, and he takes the bag from Devin and pulls out a Warriors hat. “Wow! Thanks! It's super!” He places the hat on his head, turning and nodding to feel the new accessory.

“Looks good.” Devin rises from his seat. “Here, I'll take the tags off.”

“No, I wanna keep them. I wanna show my mom and dad.”

Devin nods and sits back in his seat.

“I guess you won't be visiting me as much when play-offs start,” Jason says.

“I don't know about that. I'll still come to see you. It just might be once a week instead of twice. I'll do my best.”

“You will?”

“Why not?”

“You won't have time.”

“I'll make time,” Devin says, watching the boy's smile broaden.

“Mom says I'm here till September.”

Devin nods somberly. He had no idea that acute myeloid leukemia could keep a child in the hospital for half a year.

“Are you sad you're missing school?”

It takes a minute for Jason to answer. “I miss my friends.”

“I bet.”

“I miss playing on the playground.”

Devin's not sure what to say. Nothing he can do will make Jason better, yet he wants to be an inspiration and give only words of encouragement. That's the whole point of the visits, but Devin is really stuck for what to say.

“I'll tell you what,” Devin says, making a promise he knows he has to keep. “When you're out of the hospital and if it's okay with your parents, I'll have tickets for you and your family to come to a Warriors game.”

“Really? I've never been to a game before!”

“Never?”

“No. My mom says it's too much money.”

“Well, I'll have tickets with your name on them.”

“I can't wait!” the boy shrieks, padding his hands on his lap. “I can't wait,” he says firmly and with strength. Devin can see the determination in his eyes.

“I can't wait either,” Devin says.